#I know there’s a thing that fits perfectly here

[wreckedandpolemic]

screwed up and brilliant - matty healy

(mdni) in which your whirlwind summer takes a turn you never could have predicted. part two of white and gold. 16185 words.

warnings (here we go): daddy kink (obvs), phone sex, authority kink, roleplay, dom/sub dynamics, mean dom!matty, spanking, semi-public sex, gagging, oral (f receiving), mentions of anal, vague allusions to parental fuckery

The singular thought circling through your head the entire way home is what the fuck. If it weren’t for the soreness in your muscles, the bruises on your thighs and your embarrassing lack of underwear, you’d believe you dreamt the whole thing. You stop the taxi a little ways down your street, trying not to draw attention to yourself returning from your unbelievable night. It’s not like your parents would know exactly where you’ve been, but you’d rather save yourself the embarrassment of getting caught coming home from a hookup.

It turns out you didn’t need to worry, though, your footsteps echoing through an empty house as you let yourself in the back. Checking your phone for the first time since you left the dinner with Matty, critically low battery and a text from your mother flash up at you. We’ve gone out for lunch at the Dove. Love you x, the text informs you, a sense of guilty relief washing over you. There’s few things you love more than your house being empty; your shoulders loose without your mother’s nervous, slightly oppressive energy and your father’s meaningful and disappointed glances. Your steps are light as you waltz up the stairs to your room, flinging open your wardrobe to start getting ready before you realise you don’t know what you should be dressing for.

You tip out your clutch onto the bed, business cards, lipgloss and a forgotten pair of earrings spilling on your sheets as you dig for Matty’s number. Tapping the keyboard idly, you try to think of a good opening message, inspiration striking as you catch sight of a discarded bra on your bedroom floor. You slip into a favourite set, black with gold detailing and leaving very little to the imagination, and pose in your bedroom mirror, texting the photo to Matty.

hi x

trying to get ready but i don’t know what to wear :( where are we going?

Fucking hell

Hi, pretty girl

You could wear that and I’d be a very happy man

yeah i bet you would

answer the question perv

I don’t want to spoil the surprise

if you don’t tell me im changing

Fine

Brat

It’s nice but relaxed

Youre not dressing for dinner its not that hard

rude

pick me up in an hour ;)

You turn back to your wardrobe with a groan — what the fuck does he mean by nice but relaxed? A skirt and a nice top? Heels or no heels? What are you supposed to do with your hair? Leafing through your clothes, you find a green sundress tucked away near the back, a vintage treasure you’d picked up at a market a few years ago and promptly forgotten about. By some stroke of luck, it fits perfectly, the skirt swirling gorgeously around your calves. Your reflection grins back at you as you dust on some makeup, finding a dangling pair of jade earrings to match.

Exactly on cue, your phone rings, flashing up Matty’s contact. “Hi, love. I’m outside — well, as close as I dare, anyway. I’m on a double yellow, actually. Risking my spotless driving record for you.”

You snort. “They’ve gone out, park in the drive. I’ll come to the door.” You pad down the stairs as Matty’s tyres crunch on the gravel outside. Smoothing down your hair nervously, you take a deep breath, the blurry outline of him visible through the stained glass of your front door. You swing the door open as Matty raises his fist to knock, giggling slightly at the way he stands, his hand hovering meaninglessly in midair.

His eyes blow wide as he takes you in, crowding you close in a split-second. “Hi, princess,” he grins, electricity tingling under your skin where he holds you by the waist, his body pressed against yours. “If nobody’s home, I can do this,” he breathes, catching your lips and kissing you deeply, licking into your mouth like a starving man.

After a long moment, you find the strength to push him away. “Matty, the neighbours!” you protest.

“Fine,” Matty says, walking you inside and kicking the door shut behind him. He pulls you back to him, catching your lips in a filthy kiss, a slide of lips and tongue, sticky with desire. Groaning into your mouth, his lips fall to your neck, pressing kisses over the concealed bruises on your neck. You can tell he wants to cover them, mark you up as his own, and you giggle as you push his head back.

“Do we have to go to lunch?” you tease. “They’re not gonna be back for hours.”

Matty pinches your ass through your skirt. “Needy girl. You’ll love the place, I promise.” Slowly, like it pains him, he lets go of you and steps back, eyes widening as he properly takes in the sight of you for the first time. “God, you look gorgeous, princess. You look like summer.” You flush, shifting on your feet and glancing at the floor. “Can’t believe I get to have you. You know everyone who sees you is gonna be fuckin’ jealous of me, gonna want my pretty girl for themselves?” He looks livid at the mere prospect, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

You giggle. “But I’ll be there with you. Why would I want anyone else?” you assure him, stretching up to kiss at the corners of his mouth until he cracks a smile. Your chest aches a little at the sight, a private moment of happiness stretching between you. You can almost see the path along with it, a brief flicker of a life with him dancing in your imagination before you swat it away.

Fuck, you’re in too deep. You’re hurtling towards a vast expanse of something, and you don’t even have the strength to look away. You can only hope the breakneck pace isn’t going to break your heart, too.

“That’s right,” Matty says, after what feels like an eternity. “All mine, yeah? Shall we?”

You nod, not yet trusting yourself to speak, and take his hand, sliding into the passenger seat of his car. The smell of clean leather envelops you, mixed with Matty’s now-familiar cigarettes and cologne smell. Matty’s hand lands on your thigh and traces absent circles as he reverses out of the drive. The streets roll by, rows of houses all merging together, your eyes glazing over while you avoid Matty’s gaze. “So pretty, baby,” he murmurs. “My pretty little passenger princess.”

“Does that mean you’ll drive me anywhere I want?” you tease, finally bringing your gaze back to Matty. The afternoon light casts him in a soft glow, his curls ruffling in the gentle breeze. He taps his fingers absently on the wheel, a sick thrill running through you as you remember feeling them on your skin, thighs clenching needily under his touch. You slide a hand between his legs, smirking at the hiss he lets out when you palm gently over his cock. “Promise I’ll make it worth your while,” you add teasingly, plying him with wide, innocent eyes.

Matty chuckles darkly and returns his other hand to the wheel, your skin impossibly cold in the absence his touch leaves behind. “You gonna get me off right here? In the car with the windows down? Such a naughty girl.” He inclines his head as if to say go on, calling your bluff, and you lower your gaze and return your hand to your lap, subdued. “That’s what I thought. Don’t make promises you can’t keep, princess.”

You shrug. “Wouldn’t want to taint your spotless driving record,” you tease, and he tips back his head and laughs, the sound filling the car and wrapping around you, your head going fuzzy with affection. A few minutes later, Matty puts the car in park, leaning over the centre console to kiss you. His hand comes up to cup your jaw, thumbing lightly over your cheek and smiling against your lips. Ever the gentleman, he comes to the passenger side to let you out, and you take his arm and let him lead you inside. 

“Afternoon,” Matty greets the maître d’ with a polite smile. “Healy for two, one thirty?”

“Ah, yes, right this way, sir,” he says, his eyes flickering curiously over you as he leads you through the restaurant.

His gaze lands judgmentally on Matty when he tugs you into him by the waist, and you bristle, deliberately planting a kiss on his cheek as you walk. “Would you like to sit inside or outside?” the maître d’ asks in a tone that suggests he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Can we sit outside, please? It’s such a nice day,” you say, and Matty grins indulgently down at you. He inclines his head at the maître d’, who leads you into the restaurant’s courtyard. Your jaw drops at the oasis you’ve suddenly found yourself in, lush green dotted through with glass tables, quiet chatter undercut with the splash of a dancing water fountain.

“This place is gorgeous,” you say as Matty pulls out your chair for you. “Do you come here a lot?”

He sees right through you, smirking over his menu. “I’ve never brought a girl here,” he tells you, answering the question you’re really asking.

“You keep saying that,” you say thoughtfully. “No bullshitting this time, what makes me so special?”

Matty meets your eyes, holding your gaze deadly serious. “I don’t date a lot, princess,” he tells you. “The girls that I… spend time with…” Your jaw clenches. “They’re not… Well, I need to feel a connection, you know? And I hadn’t felt it in a long time. I was kind of starting to give up hope,” he huffs a quiet laugh, a soft smile crossing his face when he speaks. “And then I met you, and I could just feel it.” He’s gazing adoringly at you, and you suddenly wonder if maybe it’s okay that you’re in too deep, because maybe, just maybe, he’s right there with you.

“Matty, I—”

“Good afternoon!” a bright, falsely cheery voice cuts in. “Are you both ready for drinks?”

Annoyed at the interruption, you purse your lips and address Matty. “I don’t know… What do you think I should get?” you grin, deliberately playing up the affection, leaning towards him and batting your lashes.

“I don’t know, darling. Are you feeling like wine?”

“I can come back,” the waitress says, all pretence at cheer abandoned as she taps her pencil against her notepad impatiently.

Rolling your eyes, you wave a hand at her. “No, stay. Just give me a minute to decide, ‘kay?” You scan the menu and deliberately order the most expensive rosé with a smirk in Matty’s direction. He shrugs, ordering himself a Malbec, and the waitress finally buzzes off.

It feels inappropriate to return to your conversation after the interruption, and you chuckle awkwardly. The breeze ripples in the silence between you, pulling clouds away from the sun so it shines directly into your eyes. Wincing, you shield your face, squinting in a way you’re sure is horrendously unattractive. Matty laughs softly. “Here you go, darling,” he says, pulling his sunglasses off his head and gently resting them on your face. “God, and here I thought you couldn’t get any prettier,” he adds, and you flush, picking at imaginary lint on your dress to avoid his gaze. 

“Flatterer,” you scoff, kicking softly at his shin. “Thank you,” you add, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“S’nothing, princess. Keep ‘em, if you want.” Matty shrugs as if they’re inconsequential, and not a two hundred pound accessory. “Smoke?” he offers as you’re still reeling.

You nod, tilting your head quizzically. “Thought you didn’t want me ruining my lungs?” you tease, slipping the cigarette between your lips.

Matty chuckles. “It’s a beautiful day, you’re getting fresh air, your pretty lungs will survive one,” he teases, flicking his lighter under your cigarette as you take a deep drag.

His gaze lingers meaningfully on you as the smoke curls from your mouth and you squirm. “What?” you ask, desire evident in his eyes; he just keeps fucking staring.

He blinks, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “God, you look fucking hot,” he adds with a chuckle. Just as you go to reply, the waitress returns with your drinks. You give a cursory thanks and take a long sip, full flavour swirling in your mouth. “You know, I wouldn’t have put you down as a dry wine kind of girl,” Matty remarks. “Sweet little thing like you.”

You flush the colour of your wine, but meet his gaze in challenge. “You don’t know everything about me.”

“I’d like to,” he says immediately, and you swallow thickly, his ability to disarm you frustratingly constant. He’s so fucking perfect, it’s actually disgusting. As you’re searching for a response, he perks up, tilting his head to tune into the song playing quietly over some unseen speaker. “Oh, man, I haven’t heard this song in forever,” he gasps, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “I was obsessed with this one when I was younger. Used to be on my band’s setlist and everything.”

Your jaw drops. “You were in a band?” you demand. “Were you any good?”

Matty chuckles. “I’d like to think so. S’a shame it didn’t pan out, really. I would’ve made a great rockstar, don’t you think?” he smirks, visions of Matty clad in a leather jacket, sweaty and gorgeous, crooning into a microphone swimming across your vision.

“Fuck, yeah. I’d have hated fighting your hordes of fangirls for your attention, though,” you sigh, and his grin widens as you stroke his ego. “Were you the guitarist?” you ask, memories of his calloused hands ghosting over your skin.

He scoffs, insulted. “I was the frontman, obviously.”

“Obviously,” you repeat, teasingly blowing smoke in his face as you stub out your cigarette. “But you still play?”

“Yeah,” Matty says, smiling wistfully, the expression taking years off him so clearly that you can almost see the ambitious, idealistic boy he must have been. You hope there’s a world where the band worked out for him, even if it means you’d never have met. “S’just a hobby, though,” he shrugs, interrupting your reverie. “You should hear my mate Hann, he’s fucking wicked.”

Taking a sip of your wine, you sigh meaningfully. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to play the guitar.” You lean purposefully on the words, and Matty grins.

“You want me to teach you?”

You smile blithely. “Oh, please. I can sight read sheet music and everything, I’d be such a good student, Professor,” you add, smirking as he stiffens slightly.

“Oh, behave,” he scolds lightly, tugging at his

collar as if he’s sweating at your words. 

“Make me,” you giggle, meeting his eyes in challenge.

“You know I will, princess,” he says seriously, your skin prickling hot as he watches you, daring you to break first. You’re saved from having to, though, by the same waitress coming to take your order. Not even having picked up the food menu, you let Matty order for you, trusting his taste. 

As it turns out, his taste is impeccable, down to the steak being cooked exactly the way you like. “God, this is fucking delicious,” you exclaim, digging in eagerly. “This place is amazing,” you add, unable to keep the beaming smile off your face. You chat back and forth for a couple of hours, asking about his family and his childhood, cooing at the stories he tells. If anyone were listening, they’d probably be nauseated by your obscene flirting, getting bolder as Matty continues plying you with wine even as he switches to water.

The same waitress returns, the false cheer bright in her tone as she offers you dessert menus. “No, thanks,” you say without taking your eyes off Matty. “We have dessert at home.” You flash your teeth in a grin so there can be no mistaking your meaning.

Matty picks up the bill, and you don’t even pretend to protest. It’s been years since you’ve been on a date you didn’t have to pay for, guys your age from your circles unusually stingy, and you feel guilty expecting broke college boys to pay for you. And it’s only feminist to split the bill with another girl, anyway. “Dessert, yeah?” he smirks as you slide into the passenger seat, and you squirm.

“I promise I’m just as sweet,” you tease. “Take me to yours and I’ll show you exactly how sweet I can be.”

Matty clicks his tongue. “I don’t think so,” he says, and your stomach sinks. “Good girl like you shouldn’t put out on the first date, or didn’t your daddy teach you any better?” he says, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

God, he’s a fucking tease. “You didn’t teach me anything like that, Daddy,” you pout. “You can’t get me all needy looking this hot and not let me have you. S’not fair.” You fold your arms, sulking.

“Oh, angel,” he tuts. “Not figured it out, yet? I don’t have to be fair.” And with that, your fate is sealed, Matty dropping you home and leaning over for a chaste kiss that he resists your attempts to deepen. “I’ll see you soon, princess. You know where to find me,” he promises, your eyes not leaving him until his car turns the corner and disappears from view.

You slope inside, disappointed and unsatisfied, plagued with the thought of where you could be right now if Matty had taken you home with him. Your father’s car is in the drive, and you groan to yourself, utterly uninterested in explaining yourself. Of course, you’re expected to anyways. “Where have you been?” your mother demands, and you fold your arms. If she’d asked out of curiosity, genuine interest, it would be different, but she only wants to know so she can approve or disapprove, sneering consternation written across her face.

“Out,” you say shortly, thick tension pulling taut between you.

“With who?” she asks, lips pursed.

“A friend,” you snap. “God, Mum, I went out for lunch, what’s it to you? I’m a grown-ass woman, I shouldn’t have to ask my mummy for permission to leave the house!”

“Language!” she exclaims, and you roll your eyes and push past her, storming up the stairs and slamming the door, finally breathing easy when the lock on your door forms a decisive barrier between you and your parents. Left alone, it doesn’t take long for your thoughts to drift back to Matty and the ache he left between your thighs. You wonder if he’s home yet, if he’ll want to hear your voice, or if it’s too soon.

You war with yourself for a few minutes, but your desire wins out, calling Matty up and laying back against your pillows. “Hello, darling.” He picks up on the second ring. “Missing me already?”

“Mhm,” you murmur, the mere sound of his voice sending a pulse of desire thrumming through you. “Thinkin’ about you. About how you got me all needy.”

He laughs darkly. “God, what am I going to do with you? Naughty girl can’t even keep her hands to herself for an hour. Are you getting wet for me, angel?”

“Yes,” you moan happily, thrilled to get what you want. “I need you.”

“You beg so pretty, baby,” he coos, grunting softly, and you can just picture him, cock half-hard in his palm as you hear the rustle of clothes dropping to the floor. “C’mon, tell Daddy what you want.”

You whimper, dipping your hand under your waistband, slick pooling against your fingertips. “Wish you were touching me,” you moan. “Could’ve brought me home with you. Could’ve bent me over anywhere you wanted, stuffed me full and fucking used me.”

“Such a slut,” Matty murmurs, faint, slick sounds echoing from the other end of the call as he grunts rhythmically. The image of him makes you dizzy, fisting his cock messily, hips thrusting into his hand. You moan quietly, rubbing slow, tight circles into your clit. “Are you touching yourself?” You murmur an affirmative. “Stop.” Your blood runs cold, like you’ve been doused in ice water.

“Wh- What?” you hiss, disbelieving.

“You heard me, darling. I told you, good girls don’t put out on the first date. Daddy’s teachin’ you manners, yeah?”

“That’s not fair, Daddy,” you whine again. “Don’t need you to tell me when I can get off. Managed just fine before you came along,” you add petulantly.

Matty just laughs. “Okay, baby. I’m sure you did. You could hang up this call right now, get yourself off all on your own. But you won’t,” he says, smugly confident. “You know why? Because Daddy knows what’s best for brats like you. And, really, you just wanna be my good, sweet, dumb little girl, don’t you, angel?”

Thick, choking lust envelops you, crushing the air from your lungs as you find yourself whimpering, “Yes, Daddy. Won’t touch anymore,” you say, your mouth moving without your brain’s say-so.

Your body hums with energy, tense with the knowledge you won’t be allowed to release it. “Good girl,” Matty croons, your chest warming at the praise. “Still gotta punish you for bein’ a brat, though,” he adds, through a soft moan. “Don’t want you touchin’ that pretty cunt without my permission, ‘kay?” Your stomach sinks, arousal flaring impossibly in your gut.

“Okay, Daddy. I’ll be good,” you promise, his appreciative moan sending heat spiralling between your legs. You stay on the call until the sound of Matty spilling into his fist fills your ears, leaving you sticky and fucking throbbing with need. It takes you what feels like forever to get your breathing under control enough that your legs will stop shaking to carry you to the shower. You gasp as you plunge into the freezing cold spray, barely enough to quench the fire rolling through your veins. Unable to resist, you text Matty a picture of yourself when you step out, the steam on the mirror teasingly blurring your wet, naked body.

And that is the last time you hear Matty’s voice for an entire fucking week. There always seems to be some obstacle, a friend’s birthday, or a dinner you’re not invited to, or both of you are up to your eyeballs in pointless, mind-numbing work. You’d almost think he was avoiding you, if not for your constant back-and-forth over text and Matty’s incessant pleas for you to visit him at the office. You resist for a while, terrified of being caught and what that would mean for this… thing… that’s blooming between you, still fragile and new.

But it’s driving you fucking crazy, and you miss him, so after a week, you find an excuse; because you’re a good, dutiful daughter, you’re bringing your father lunch to share after he cancelled your meal out yesterday. You zone out after the same five minutes of talking in circles, giving automatic, robotic responses you know he wants to hear. It would be a lie to say you didn’t breathe a sigh of relief when the lift doors ding shut, carrying you up to Matty’s office. You haven’t told him you’re coming, hoping your presence will be a welcome surprise. What you hadn’t counted on, though, was his bleach-blonde secretary, idly tapping on her keyboard and actively standing in your way.

Your heart sinks. She’s pretty, unbelievably so, and barely older than you. If Matty hasn’t already had her, which you doubt, it’s crossed his mind. What if that’s what he’s been doing, all those times he’s complained about leaving the office late? A vision of her spread out on his desk fills your mind, Matty crooning his sweet, filthy words into her ear as her chest heaves. Her boobs are fake, you decide, your gaze flickering to them. It’s not humanly possible for a pair of tits to be that big and perky at the same time. Pushing down the jealousy roiling in your gut, you step up to her desk. Her eyes sweep over you, unimpressed, and she purses her lips.

You push your shoulders back, letting the snotty, spoiled brat who’s never been told no free, a snide grin spreading across your features. It feels fucking good to exercise that facet of your personality again, having tamped down on it since you went to uni — makes it easier to play well with others. Impatiently, you click your fingers in front of the woman’s face. “I’m here to see Mr. Healy,” you say with a saccharine smile. Sure, you could just call him and tell him you’re outside, but this is so much more fun. Especially now that you get to mess with her head, too. Matty’s never fucked her, but she wants him to, you can tell by the way her face falls when she sees you. Good, you think vindictively. Maybe blondes don’t have more fun. Not with him, at least.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asks, voice nasally and grating.

You sigh, like she’s asking you a ridiculous question. “No, but he’ll want to see me, trust me. Tell him… Tell him Angel is here, yeah?” She looks at you, sceptical and detached. “My parents were hippies, what can you do?” you shrug, raising your eyebrows and flicking your fingers patronisingly at her, as if to say go on. Your gazes lock in a battle of wills for a brief moment, but you grin victoriously when she picks up her phone.

“Hello, sir. There’s a girl out here asking to see you.” The way she says girl feels like a slur dripping from her overglossed lips. “Says her name’s Angel? She doesn’t have an appointment, I can send her away, if you like. Won’t be a problem.”

“No, no, send her in. And, for future reference, she’s welcome anytime, okay? No appointment necessary. Actually, I’ll come get her.” Matty’s voice is faint from the other end of the phone, but distinct enough that you can hear his words and the click as he sets the phone down. Seconds later, he emerges from his office, breaking into a wide grin at the sight of you. “Hello, angel,” he grins, kissing your cheek politely but lingering a little longer than appropriate. “Feels like it’s been forever. Come on in, yeah?” He takes you by the waist and leads you to his office, and you throw a smirk over your shoulder at the secretary as you go, a clear message: I win, you lose. “Oh, and Ruby? Nobody in my office for the next hour, alright?” She flushes as red as her name suggests, glaring at you furiously, trying to tell you this isn’t over. You ignore her, though, because you and Matty are finally alone.

“Only an hour?” you giggle. “You’re losing your touch, sir.”

“Oh, sir, hm? That’s new,” he teases as you perch on his desk, drinking in the sight of him with something dangerously close to relief.

You lean forward. “She wants you. So fucking badly,” you remark.

“I know,” he shrugs, loosening his tie with one hand and stroking your bare thigh with the other.

This time, you let the jealousy bubble up to the surface. “Have you ever fucked her?” You know the answer, but you want to hear him say it.

Matty laughs. “Have you ever heard the expression, don’t shit where you eat?” he asks, and you wrinkle your nose and nod. “Well, that goes double for the young, hot blonde the company dangles in front of you like fucking bait, just waiting for you to cross a line.”

You’re starting to see red, his words nothing close to what you wanted to hear. “But you would. If she didn’t work for you.”

He shrugs. “Maybe.” He grips your hips, sliding you closer to him, dislodging stacks of paper and pens from his desk. “If I didn’t have you.” Then, his fingers creep higher, tantalisingly close to where you want them, and you push down the argument you were about to start. Giving up the best sex you’ve ever had isn’t worth it just because you got a little too possessive over someone who isn’t actually yours.

“She’d never be as good as me,” you say bitterly. “I don’t think a man like you would let a little red tape stop you if you actually wanted her. What’s wrong with her, really?”

Matty smirks. “Jealous girl,” he says smugly. “Don’t wanna talk about her when I could have this,” he adds, rubbing slow, teasing circles into your thigh. You whine softly, arching forward into his touch. “You’d be better than her, yeah? You wanna prove it?” You tilt your head quizzically. “Let’s say you’re my secretary, yeah, baby?”

A thrill runs up your spine. “Yes, sir,” you breathe. You slide off the desk to prop yourself in the chair opposite his, unbuttoning your blouse a little and leaning back with a smirk. “You wanted to see me, sir?” you say, playing up your wide, innocent eyes.

“Yes,” Matty says thoughtfully. “I think we need to discuss your behaviour in my office.” You bite your lip to clamp down on your grin, nodding seriously. “Always in those short little skirts, bendin’ over so you can show off those pretty, lace panties. You wear those for me, don’t you, baby?”

You smirk, popping the buttons of your blouse past decency. “You’re wrong, sir.” You spread your legs wide, and he chokes on his inhale. “I’m not wearing any panties.”

Matty groans, sweeping his desk clear, pens and paper scattering across the floor. “Bend over,” he orders sharply. “Now.”

You stand to obey, then pause. “Wait one second,” you say, darting around the desk so you’re face-to-face. “Just realised I haven’t done this yet.” You sling your arms around his neck and press your lips against his, kissing him hungrily and melting at his touch. Desperately, you try not to dissect the relief flooding your body from the point where his hands meet your skin. “Okay,” you say as you pull back, breathless. “M’ready now.”

Bracing your elbows on the desk, you bend over, baring your dripping cunt as Matty shoves your skirt up your thighs. “Spread your legs for me.” You obey, but he just growls and kicks them further apart, a shocked sound pulling free from your throat. “Wider,” he orders. “Not doin’ such a good job of convincing me you’d be so much better than her, you know,” he says, tone almost conversational if his nails weren’t digging into your hips so hard they’ll bruise. 

Angry, red-hot jealousy floods your veins, tangling cruelly with the ball of anticipation winding tight in your core. You can’t decide whether to go lax, let Matty have his good girl, or to fight against him for comparing you to her. It doesn’t take long for the brat to win out. “You want her so bad? Call her in, then,” 

You can practically hear Matty’s eyebrows raise, the realisation you won’t let him have this so easily setting in. “You want me to, baby?” He clicks his tongue. “I don’t think so. I think you’re jealous of the pretty girl who sits outside my office all day.” He reaches around to pop another button of your blouse. “And you’re scared of what I might be doing with her when you can’t see.” He pulls your shirt out of the waistband of your skirt and tugs it off your shoulders. “So you want her to know exactly what we’re doing in here, so you can lay some kind of claim on me. Am I right?” Your mind spins as you try to think of a smartass response, thoughts jolted free from your head when Matty spanks you harshly. The crack of skin on skin might have been loud enough to be heard from outside, you think with a pulse of satisfaction. “Unless the next words out of your mouth are yes, sir or yes, Daddy, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you moan out, your cunt throbbing needily. “You’re right. Want her to see how good you fuck me, want her to know she could never make you feel as good as I do,” you say, the admissions stumbling one after another from your lips, unbidden.

“There’s my good girl,” he coos, your stomach clenching at the sound of his belt unbuckling, his zipper falling. “Such a little brat when you’re gagging for my cock, aren’t you, princess?” You nod furiously, whining as he teases your hole with the tips of his fingers. Desperate for friction, you grind back against them, weak, helpless moans tumbling from your lips. “Beg for it.” You choke on a gasp. “Go on, angel. You want my cock so bad? Beg for it.”

You don’t even have time to pretend to have dignity before wanton pleas spill free. “Fuck, Daddy, please! Want your cock so fucking bad, always make me feel so good, s’not the same when I do it myself,” you whine, giving a shuddering gasp when he teases your clit with the tip of his cock. “Please! I’m beggin’ you, Daddy, I’ll be good, I promise.”

Matty chuckles. “Alright, baby, alright,” he murmurs soothingly, lining himself up with your soaked entrance and sliding home so fast you’re gasping. Your knees buckle as you scramble for purchase on the desk, nails scraping against the varnished wood. “Oh, princess, it’s okay, Daddy’s here now,” he soothes, your cunt pulsing desperately around him. “Look at you, bein’ all sweet for me now you’re stuffed full. Such a dumb little slut, aren’t you, baby? Bet you wish you didn’t have to think about anythin’ except my cock.”

“Mhm,” you whine, arching your back as much as you can, your tits pressing against the cool wood of the desk. “M’just your stupid little slut, Daddy, please fuck me,” you beg, grinding back against him.

Matty’s hips slam suddenly against yours, a whining scream tearing from your throat as pleasure spills over in your veins. His hand comes down to cover your mouth, your body going limp against his. “Shh, princess. I’m at work, remember?” The reminder that fucking anyone could come to his door, know exactly what he’s doing to you, sends a thrill up your spine. “Can you be quiet, hm? Or do I need to make you quiet?” Another deep thrust draws a long, low moan from your throat, and he seems to have answered his own question. The fabric of his tie covers your mouth, spit leaking out around it. “There you go, angel. Nice and quiet for me. Bang on the desk if you need me to stop, okay?”

You nod, something that might be yes, Daddy coming out garbled around the gag. Matty fucks into you brutally, your chest heaving as ecstasy burns under your skin. “Good girl,” he coos. “Good, sweet girl. Takin’ my cock so well, princess. Such a pretty toy for your Daddy.”

Matty sets a bruising pace, your tongue pushing against his tie as it holds back your pathetic little noises. Your tits press against the desk, the sharp tip of a pencil digging into your bare stomach. You barely feel it, unconscious of anything but Matty’s skin against yours. “God, you feel so fucking good, princess. Daddy’s girl, aren’t you? Why would I ever want another girl when I’ve ruined you so perfect for me? Look at you, good little girl gagged and bent over my desk like a whore.” You moan, filthy words washing over you, sliding down your throat, sticky, wet pleasure dripping out of you.

You’re dizzy with lust, dazed and drooling, ecstasy spiralling through your bones. You can’t even think, Matty fucking all coherence out of you, every thrust clouding your mind more and more. Garbled moans fall from your lips in a filthy, spit-slick string, Matty’s rhythmic grunts swirling deliciously around your head. The calloused pads of his fingers find your clit, euphoria scorching in your bloodstream at the scrape over your swollen nerves. Your legs feel like jelly, melting hot and sweet under Matty’s touch. “You’re close, aren’t you, baby? Can feel your pretty cunt squeezin’ me so tight, princess. You wanna cum for Daddy?”

A few more rough circles over your clit, one more deep, spearing thrust and you break, wailing around the gag. “Good girl,” Matty croons, fucking you through as stars shatter behind your closed lids. Liquid ecstasy melts your bones, glueing you to the desk. Matty groans your name, cock pulsing as he spills inside you, a sound that’s pure desire falling from his lips. Still inside you, he unties the gag, letting it fall onto the desk as you draw a deep breath. “How are you feeling, angel?”

“So good,” you murmur, voice scratchy from disuse, whining as he pulls out of you. “Always make me feel so good, Daddy,” you add, letting Matty flip you around and set you on the desk, his eyes falling to your glistening core. Cum drips obscenely from you, puddling sticky and wet on his desk, a filthy smirk crossing his face.

“Good girl. So pretty for me, darling.” He tucks himself away, and once his belt is buckled he’s the picture of professionalism while you sit in front of him, sex-rumpled and half-naked and panting. “First girl I’ve ever fucked in here, you know,” he adds, so offhand you’d almost miss it if it it hadn’t made your heart jump into your throat. You can’t make head or fucking tail of him, one minute taunting you with his pretty secretary, the next swearing that you’re special. “M’sorry, darling, I don’t have much in here to clean you up with,” he says with a soft laugh, wiping a tissue through your folds and crooning soothingly when you whimper.

“S’okay. Was worth it,” you say. Your limbs feel tired and heavy, your eyelids drooping as you glance at the time and realise half your allotted hour is gone.

“You tired, sweet girl?” he asks with a soft, fond chuckle.

“Yeah,” you yawn. “You wore me out. Wish we were in bed. That was the best sleep of my life,” you confess, huffing a soft laugh.

You shudder as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch careful and tender. “Soon, princess, I promise. I’m sorry we haven’t seen each other. Missed you,” he says, and the admission melts in your chest, glueing your organs together and squeezing tightly. You sigh, the question on the tip of your tongue dissolving like a sugar pill as your resolve shatters. “How’s your week been, angel? Your friend’s birthday, right?”

You swallow a grimace. Isobel is hardly your friend, in the same way your parents aren’t friends, but you run in the same circles so proximity forced you into something resembling friendship. “Oh, the usual,” you say idly, twirling a curl that’s sprung loose from the gel in his hair around your finger. “Drinks, drugs, boys,” you tease, grinning when his jaw clenches. So he can dish it out but not take it? Interesting. 

“Did you talk to any boys, princess?” he asks, eyes glittering dangerously.

Shrugging airily, you kick your legs where they dangle off the desk. “So what if I did?” you challenge. The next words wrench themselves free of your mouth, tasting bitter as they fall. “We’re only fucking, it’s not like you actually own me. If I want to fuck someone else, are you gonna stop me?”

The question hangs thick and acerbic in the air between you and Matty swallows visibly. “No,” he says after a pause. “You can fuck whoever you want, princess. Won’t be as good as me, though, and you know it,” he says, smug and acrid.

The air between you is tense, horribly charged and all wrong, and you can feel tears prickling at the back of your throat. “I should get going,” you say abruptly, getting to your feet. “I’ll see you soon,” you add, not looking back at him as you cross the room.

“Say hi to Ruby on your way out, yeah?” Matty says, something close to a sneer in his voice. As you open the door, though, you paste on a blithe smile and relax your shoulders for Ruby’s benefit. 

“Hope it’s not you who has to clean up in there,” you smirk as you pass. “Made a bit of a mess,” you giggle, savouring the way Ruby’s face shifts in colour as she swallows her grimace.

And so you leave Matty’s office more confused about what he wants than when you fucking came in. Something shifts between you after that. Your words don’t change, Matty just as syrupy-sweet as ever, but the difference is palpable, sugared words souring as you digest them. He gets even more possessive while you fuck, more degrading, insisting you’re such a little slut, baby. Whoring yourself out to every fucking boy who looks at you, but you always come runnin’ back to your Daddy, yeah?

But it’s not always angry and mean. Sometimes, it’s slow and so sweet you could swear it’s loving, Matty lavishing you with praise, murmurs of that’s right, such a good girl and Daddy’s girl, so pretty for me soaking into your skin and tying themselves in knots around your brain. Some nights, especially recently, you don’t even fuck when you go to his place. Being there is a comfort, away from catty friends and overbearing parents, somewhere you can just be. Last night, you’d suddenly realised you kind of just weren’t in the mood, apologising and making to leave, and he’d just kissed your temple, pulled you in close and asked what your favourite movie was. And you started to believe. And then you’ll go out for drinks, so much as mention a boy’s name; he’ll toss a jab about some pretty young girl he works with, and you’re right back where you started, tearing each other apart at the seams. 

You’re this close to ripping your fucking hair out, sick to death of bottling it all up when you finally decide you need to unload on someone. “I just don’t get him,” you complain, your best friend Thea making sympathetic noises at all the right moments. “One minute it’s all you’re my girl and my pretty baby, the next it’s such a whore, bet you’d let anyone fuck you.”

“But you’re still sleeping at his place?” Thea asks, judgement obvious in her tone.

You groan. “Yes, leave me alone! If you saw the state I’m in after, you’d understand.”

Thea clicks her tongue. “And you haven’t actually fucked anyone else?”

“No,” you admit, defeated. “Don’t know if I could, to be honest.”

“Does he know that? Has he?”

“No and I don’t know. I just don’t know where I fucking stand, and I can’t ask. He’ll think I’m some pathetic little girl who can’t handle it, I know it.”

“You know what you need? You, me, a pair of slutty little dresses, and those fancy cocktails with about twelve kinds of alcohol in them from 102. I’m not taking no for an answer, I’ll see you at ten.”

And, true enough, at eleven you’re clutching a gin bowl for dear life and screeching along to the song thumping through the club’s speakers. “I need a refill, c’mon!” you shout in Thea’s ear, dragging her off to the bar where you can hear slightly better.

Despite the queue, the bartender stops in front of you with a smile. “Love that dress. What can I get for you?” You scan the menu, brow scrunching in a frown, but your words die in your throat as the bartender steps into slightly better light and you take her in properly. She’s a fucking goddess, model-pretty with thick, dark hair and long-lashed brown eyes. 

Thea swats your arm and you realise your gaze has drifted down, and you pull it back up to where she’s waiting with a smirk. “You’ve— The menu’s changed. I used to get a Sucker,” you manage to get out around the lump in your throat.

“Alright,” she says cryptically. “And you?”

Thea shrugs. “I’ll have what she’s having, I’m not picky.”

She laughs. “Oh, no. You two do not pick the same poisons. I’ve got this, okay?” Slightly entranced, you watch her work, setting something golden and glittering in front of you. “Sunshine Baby,” she says with a wink. “And for you… Antichrist.”

Thea takes her swirling, dark drink with a delighted grin. “She was into you,” she teases, nudging you with her hip.

“Oh, please, she wanted a tip.” The pair of you find a table, one with a prime view of the DJ booth so you can ogle the hot, blond DJ as he whips the crowd into a frenzied mass of sweating bodies. You keep returning to the same bartender, whose name you learn is Charli, and she keeps plying you with free shots for hot girls and increasingly strong drinks, until you find yourself stumbling onto the dancefloor and losing track of Thea.

Your head feels light, your body loose in a way it hasn’t been in weeks, the alcohol dampening your coherent thoughts. A pair of hands find your waist, and you twist your head back to meet the eyes of their owner. He couldn’t be further from Matty if he tried; your age, for one, tall, willowy and blond. The kind of man you’d usually never have looked twice at. But maybe that’s exactly what you need right now, you think, grinding your hips back against his with a grin. “Can I get your number?” he asks, pulling you free of the dancefloor, sweaty and flushed and smiling freely. After a long moment of consideration, Matty’s warning gaze flashing in your mind, you smirk and give it to him. “Let me take you out. You free Thursday?”

His overconfidence is jarring, and you swallow a frown. “I don’t know,” you tease. “Maybe. Why don’t we get back out there and you can convince me?” You obviously aren’t going to fucking go. Even as drunk as you are, you know that. Whatever this thing with Matty is, it’s serious to you, and you know the pair of you need to untangle it. But, for now, you shove it to the back of your mind, distracting yourself with free shots from a pretty boy, your head spinning wildly by the time you find Thea.

She might even be drunker than you are, stumbling and slurring as you bundle her into a taxi; she lives on the other side of town to you, so it doesn’t make sense to share. “Go, I’ll be fine,” you insist. “There’ll be another one in a minute, okay? Bye! Love you!” you shout as the car pulls away, Thea’s slightly green-tinged face hanging out of the open window. Left alone, you suddenly realise just how drunk you are, your vision blurred as you slump to the curb. When ten minutes pass without a taxi appearing, panic starts to set in; it’s too close to closing time and you’re too drunk, 102 won’t let you back in, and it’ll be the same story anywhere up and down the street. You’re alone in the dark, bile rising in your throat as you do the only thing you can think of and dial Matty.

“Hello?” he says, voice gruff with sleep. “Bit late to be calling, darling. Can’t sleep? Need some help to relax?” he adds, his smirk audible.

Your voice wavers as you speak. “M’sorry, I didn’t know who else to call,” you say, choked with the effort of holding back tears. “I can’t call my parents, I don’t have any fucking friends who’d care, there’s no taxis, I—” you cut yourself off with a hysterical gasp.

Matty shushes you soothingly. “Baby. Baby, breathe. Breathe for me, okay?” You try your best to obey, drawing deep, hiccuping breaths, shuddering harshly on the exhale. “What’s wrong, love?” You stumble your way through an explanation, babbling profuse apologies, mortification creeping up your spine. “Darling, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry. Where are you?”

“102,” you sniffle. “It’s—”

“I know the place. Sit tight, okay? I’m getting in the car now, I’ll be there soon. I’ve got you, promise.” The wave of relief that floods your body when you finally spot Matty’s car pulling to a stop in front of you is near-crippling, and you’d have collapsed when he wraps his arms around you if he wasn’t supporting your weight. “Oh, baby. Sweet girl, it’s okay. I’m here now. I’ve got you,” he repeats soothingly, only pulling away when you stop swaying on your feet. “God, you smell like the floor of a dive bar,” he teases, and you chuckle weakly. “C’mon, angel. Let’s get you in bed, yeah?”

You murmur another apology as you slide into the passenger seat, and he waves it away with a smile. “Hey, my house is the left back there,” you say, the cool night air having snapped you back to yourself a little.

“I know,” Matty says quietly. “I’m not sending you back there alone, darling. Promised I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” he says, his hand on your thigh gently calming instead of teasing.

“Thank you,” you mumble, looking down at your lap as Matty parks the car in his drive.

“Any time, angel. I’m serious. I’m glad you called. Don’t ever want you to think I won’t be here if you’re not okay.” And fuck if that sickening, chaotic mess of feelings doesn’t just bubble right back up to the surface. He leads you into the kitchen, your body curled into his to steady yourself. “I’ll get you something to eat, okay?”

You shake your head. “Mm-mm. You’re already doing too much. And I won’t keep it down, anyway,” you say, pressing a hand to your roiling stomach. “I just need to lie down.” You start to wander into the living room, and Matty grabs your wrist gently. 

“You need to eat something, darling. Drink some water, sleep in a bed,” he adds insistently. You let him fuss over you, plying you with a slice of toast and a glass of water, and you tuck yourself into his chest as he carries you up to bed. Dressed in one of his well-worn shirts, his familiar scent fills your lungs, comforting as he tucks himself into bed next to you.

“Thank you,” you repeat. “Can’t say it enough. Didn’t have to do all this, Matty. I would’ve been okay.”

“Don’t want you just okay,” he answers. “Want you feeling good, and safe, and happy. Get some sleep, love, m’here.” You close your eyes obligingly, but your drunken haze lifting has set your thoughts free, spinning like a coin set on its edge that just won’t fall. Your night plays back in sickening detail behind your lids, the memory of the boy’s hands on you bringing bile up your throat. Laying in Matty’s bed without having been thoroughly exhausted first always plays with your sanity, your brain wandering to places you know it shouldn’t go as he sleeps peacefully next to you.

The sun is coming up by the time you give up on sleep, hoping Matty’s rhythmic breathing means he won’t hear you trying to sneak away. No such luck, though. “Where you goin’, sweetheart?” he asks, and you feel a stab of guilt at interrupting his sleep yet again.

“Home. I’ll get out of your hair, now. Thank you again,” you say quietly.

“Baby. Princess. Come here, come back here,” Matty says, and he looks so sweet and earnest, sleep-soft and smiling, that you obey, and you can’t help the happy little sigh that escapes you as he pulls you close.

Shame burns hot through you as you remember the previous night all over again, and you can’t stop yourself from blurting out, “A boy asked me on a date last night.”

Matty’s hand tightens on your hip. “What did you say?” he asks, voice low with warning.

You sigh, steeling yourself to look into his eyes. “What do you want me to have said? you answer, and he blinks, confusion written across his features. “What is this, Matty? Because if this is casual, if you just want a shiny young girl on your arm for a few months, it’s fine by me,” you lie, pushing down the nausea that pools at your words. “But if this is just fun, we should be allowed to see other people — are you seeing other people?” you ask, tension winding between your shoulder blades as you prepare for the answer. 

“No,” Matty practically growls. “And I’m not fucking anyone else, either, before you ask. I haven’t in weeks.” He huffs a laugh. “I tried, the day I met you, tried to get you out of my head ‘cause I didn’t think I’d get to have you.” His thumb rubs gentle circles into your hip, his touch comforting as his words soak in, a soothing balm to your nerves. “Didn’t fucking work. Couldn’t stop picturing you instead,” he confesses. “You’re in my head, princess. M’sorry I let my little strop go on so long. Thinkin’ about some other man touching you was driving me crazy. I was bein’ selfish. If you want to see other people, I—”

“I don’t,” you interrupt. “Only want you.”

He breaks out in a wide grin. “Pictured this being a bit more romantic, but,” Matty pinches your hip gently, and you giggle, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. “You’re my girl, yeah? Properly mine.”

“Yeah,” you say, practically glowing as you smile back at him. “As long as you’re mine.”

He threads a hand into your hair, kisses you like breathing is a choice, licking eagerly into your mouth as you melt against him. “What are you gonna say if another boy asks you on a date, princess?”

“I have a boyfriend,” you beam, just using the word making your heart warm. The tangled knot that’s sat in your belly for weeks now blissfully untied, your body feels loose and happy and willing. “I’m gonna have a shower, okay, then I’ve gotta thank you properly, yeah?”

A filthy smirk pulls at Matty’s lips. “I like the sound of that.” You giggle, pressing a kiss to his nose before climbing off him.

“You would,” you tease, padding into the bathroom and running the shower. You luxuriate under the water for several long, glorious minutes, the water pressure melting the last lingering tension between your shoulders. The smell of the club lingers in your hair until you scrub it with Matty’s expensive shampoo, the smell familiar as you work your fingers over your scalp, lingering like you’ll be able to absorb him through your skin. You towel your hair mostly dry, despite your insistence that Matty was committing a cardinal sin by doing the same, and wander back into the bedroom still naked and dripping wet.

Matty chokes on a gasp. “Fuck. Hi, gorgeous.” The praise heats your cheeks and you kneel at the foot of his bed, clasping your hands behind your back.

“Hi, Daddy,” you say sweetly. “I said I’d thank you properly. Gonna show you what a good girl I can be. Best girl you’ll ever have.” Matty smirks, sitting up to give himself a better view. “Can do whatever you want with me. All day long.” He smirks, dirty and sleazy and delicious, and pats the sheets next to him.

“C’mere, princess. Up you get.” You scramble to obey, sighing happily when he tangles his legs with yours and kisses you slow and deep. His hardness presses against your thigh as you make out, his hands wandering to your ass and squeezing. “God, so perfect, darling,” he praises. “Can’t believe you’re all mine.”

“Yours,” you whimper into his mouth, almost deliriously happy. His kiss is almost ferocious, hungry and devouring, desire coiling under your skin. “Daddy, please. Want you so bad,” you murmur.

Matty laughs. “Patience, angel. Thought you were gonna be good?” he says, but it’s light and teasing, without any of the underlying meanness that might have laced his tone a week ago. You relax, tension unspooling in your belly as you put your trust in him. His hands skim over your body, somehow both gentle and working you into a frenzy. A litany of pathetic little whimpers fall from your lips as you squirm under his hands, Matty smirking into the kiss. “Sweet, needy baby,” he croons. “Missed havin’ you all sweet for me. M’sorry I was so mean, princess. Gonna make it up to you, I swear.” His fingers finally find your clit, heat welling between your thighs. It takes a Herculean effort to stay still, not react beyond your involuntary gasp, but the proud little smile on Matty’s face is worth it. “Good girl. Tell Daddy what you want, angel.”

You nod, swallowed in hazy pleasure as he rubs slow circles over your clit. “Want you to fuck me,” you choke out, your throat closing in overwhelming arousal.

Matty rolls on top of you, connecting your lips in a messy kiss. “Of course, baby. You okay like this? Wanna watch your pretty face while I fuck you.”

“Please,” you breathe. Matty doesn’t tease, just rubs gentle circles over your clit as he enters you, moaning softly into your mouth. Your hips roll, desire pooling under your skin as he fucks you slow and deep.

“God, missed havin’ you like this,” he breathes, his head falling into your shoulder. “Oh, darling, I know, I know. Daddy’s here, I’ve got you, okay?” he murmurs as you whimper softly, languid, bone-deep pleasure rolling over you. Matty’s eyes are liquid with affection, his lips curving into an unconscious smile.

His lips find yours again, your tongues sliding together as punched-out gasps fall from your lips in time with his smooth, measured thrusts. It’s immeasurably intense, Matty playing your body like a symphony, and you’re powerless to do anything but whine and writhe. “Thank you s’much, Daddy. Feels so fucking good,” you whimper, locking your legs around his waist. The change in angle is glorious, ecstasy winding through your bloodstream as Matty rubs circles into your clit.

“Good girl,” Matty murmurs, “Such a good girl for Daddy. My girl, my fucking girl. Wish I could keep you all sweet and cockdrunk for me all the fuckin’ time. Fuckin’ wish I could have you as my little kept girl, have this pussy at home waitin’ for me every fuckin’ night,” he groans, the familiar fantasy spiralling through your mind. He murmurs soft, sugary words into your ear, liquid desire melting your brain until you’re sure it must be dripping from your ears, soaking the sheets under your hair. “So, so pretty, darling. Look so gorgeous while I’m fucking you, god.”

You glow at the praise, heat thrumming under your skin as his hips meet yours over and over. You’re practically delirious, lost in thick, syrupy pleasure, the lewd sound of skin meeting filling the room. “Mmh, oh, my God, fuck—” you gasp, pleasure coiling tight in your belly as you dig your nails into his back. “M’gonna cum, Daddy, oh, my God, need it s’bad. Wanna cum, wanna make you cum, shit. Need to feel it, need you to fill me up, make me yours, God, please!”

“Fuck, such a good girl,” Matty gasps, his rhythm faltering as he gets closer. “Can hold on for me, just for a second, yeah? Wanna cum together,” he adds, and you whine, rolling your hips up against him and trembling with the effort of holding your orgasm at bay. He fucks into you with deep, sloppy thrusts, moaning into your mouth and pinching your clit. Garbled moans of fuck and yes and Daddy stumble from your lips, sticky, hot desire dripping from your cunt as you writhe under him. “Fuck, princess, you ready?” Matty gasps against your lips.

“Yeah, m’ready, Daddy, c’mon. Cum in me, fill up this slutty little pussy. M’yours, your good girl, your little cumdump. God, need it s’bad,” you moan, breaking into a whine as Matty spills inside you with a groan. Your orgasm follows a split-second later, moaning against Matty’s mouth with stardust glittering in your veins. Euphoria scorches under your skin, your head floating clear of your body as pleasure floods you, gasping and moaning. “Thank you,” you say dopily, smiling up at him as he pulls out. You widen your legs to watch his cum dripping out of you, pooling obscene and sticky on the mattress.

Matty watches you with a laugh. “Little cumslut,” he says fondly.

“Your little cumslut,” you smirk, stretching out your sore muscles. “When I said anything you want, I meant anything,” you grin. “Want me to be your little kept girl? Cook and clean for you while you look all pretty and important?”

He chuckles. “First of all, I’ve seen what you think passes for a meal, princess. Don’t know how you haven’t poisoned yourself.” You swat his shoulder, laughing. “Second of all, if you can stand right now, I haven’t worked hard enough,” he says, a smirk pulling at his lips. 

“You’re lucky I like you cocky,” you tease, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth and testing your weight on your feet as you stand. Matty catches you as you stumble slightly, I told you so written plainly on his face. “Don’t,” you warn, before it can leave his mouth.

“Y’know, I think I like the sound of having a little housewife for the day,” he grins, your stomach tying itself in a knot at the word wife from his lips. “C’mon, sweet girl, I’m sure we can find something for you to occupy yourself with while you’re waitin’ for me to fuck you dumb again, huh?” he teases, your thighs clenching at the words. You bend to reach for your clothes, and he tsks softly. “Didn’t say you could get dressed, did I, angel?”

“No, Daddy. I won’t.” You swallow thickly, following him downstairs, feeling shockingly exposed in the glare of the sunlight pooling from the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Matty’s cum trickles down your thighs as you hover beside him.

“Make us some tea, would you, darling?” he says, casual like you’re not naked and dripping cum on his pristine kitchen floor. “Shame you haven’t got a little apron, or something. Think I’d go a bit crazy, seein’ you in my kitchen dripping wet in nothing but an apron and a smile. Gotta teach you how to cook someday, if you wanna be my kept girl,” he continues, still maddeningly conversational as your cunt pulses wantonly at his words. “Tea, darling? Or have I got you too dumb for that without even touching you?” he teases.

Almost mechanically, you fill the kettle and flick it on, dropping a teabag into a mug for him and wrinkling your nose unsubtly. “Can I have a coffee? I don’t do tea.”

Matty laughs. “Course, princess. Want you to make yourself at home. Coffee’s just down there.” He points to a cupboard near your feet, stroking over the curve of your ass as you bend over. You don’t realise his game until you scan the contents of the cupboard and find nothing but pots and pans, and his fingers are tracing your messy, sensitive cunt. “Oops, did I say down?” he deadpans, reaching above your head to open another cupboard. “I meant up.”

“Perv,” you tease, retrieving the tin of coffee as the kettle whistles.

“Can’t help it,” he murmurs, dipping his head to kiss softly at your neck and jaw. “Too fucking gorgeous. Can’t believe you’re all mine.”

You giggle, breaking his hold to pour your drinks. “Can’t believe it took us this long. We’re idiots, kind of.”

“A bit,” he chuckles, accepting his tea and taking a sip. “So, what did you say? To that boy?” he asks, and you roll your eyes.

“No, obviously. Felt so guilty taking his number. Deleted it in the car,” you admit, staring into your coffee to avoid his gaze.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Knew nobody could fuck you like me, right? Nobody could treat you as good?”

You flush, setting your drink down and hopping up onto the counter, crossing your legs behind his back as he crowds into your space. “No, Daddy. Only you, I promise.”

Matty cups your jaw. “That’s right, princess. All mine. And I’m yours,” he says, cupping your jaw and connecting your lips in a searing kiss, drinking in the taste of you as you pour your emotions into his mouth. “So perfect, such a perfect girl for me,” he says, sucking a bruise into your skin and working his way down. He presses kisses over your tits, one hand coming up to play with a peaked bud as he wraps his lips around the other. You whine, arching your back and pushing against his attentions, a low buzz of pleasure growing in the back of your skull. “Love these tits so much, baby. So fucking perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, pressing a kiss in the valley of your breasts and tracing his fingers down, your muscles tensing at his touch. Desire whirls in your stomach, your head light and skin loose on your bones. He drops to his knees on the cool tile floor, kissing your knees as he spreads your legs wider, eyes blowing impossibly wider at the sight of your dripping cunt. “God, made such a mess of you, huh, princess? Want Daddy to get you cleaned up?”

“Please,” you gasp, threading a hand in his curls as he kisses the tender skin of your inner thigh. “Daddy, please. Want your mouth,” you whimper, moaning when his lips meet your slick skin. The pressure between your thighs is instant and familiar, mounting as Matty laps at your folds. He pulls off to bite at your thighs, scraping over his own fading bruises, faint pain tangling with pleasure under your overheated skin. His tongue is hungry as it fucks into you, his moans vibrating gloriously through you as you cling to the counter for dear life.

Your hips grind against his face, euphoria spiralling through you, stoking the fire low in your belly. “That’s it, princess. Gonna help Daddy get you off? My pretty little cockdrunk slut, need it all the time, right?” he murmurs, rubbing circles into your clit as he buries his tongue back into you. You can’t fucking think, everything in your brain drowned out by lips, tongue, teeth, Matty.

“Fuck, yes, Daddy, feels s’fucking good,” you whine, burying your hand in his curls and dragging him even closer, his tongue impossibly deep inside you as you clench around the muscle. Heat unspools in your belly, licking under your skin and setting your blood on fire, your hips rocking unbidden against his mouth. You cry out as Matty wraps his lips around your clit, pleasure-pain screaming from your still-sensitive nerves, all his attention focused on your swollen bud. “Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God,” you gasp, pulse jackhammering between your thighs, so fast you’re scared it’ll set off dynamite in your chest.

“Yeah?” Matty smirks up at you, his lips and chin soaked in your arousal. You’re close, embarrassingly so, his tongue sloppy and greedy as he devours your cunt. His quiet moans into your cunt are intensely gratifying, amplifying the ecstasy kicking wildly under your skin. “God, you’re so pretty fallin’ apart like this. Could live between these pretty thighs, princess.” In response, you tighten them around his head, savouring his little gasp as his tongue returns to your cunt, licking over your hole with fervour. Your eyes roll back in your head, swimming dizzily in ecstasy, your cunt throbbing with need.

Your entire body is tense, muscles clenched and expectant as Matty tongue-fucks you within an inch of your life. “M’so close, Daddy, wanna cum,” you whimper, chasing the pleasure that coils tight around your veins, your vision blurring as euphoria chokes you.

Matty circles his fingers over your clit, his callouses scraping deliciously over your tender skin. “Cum for me whenever you’re ready, princess. Wanna feel you fallin’ apart on my tongue. Sweetest fuckin’ girl in the world,” he murmurs, pulling your clit into his mouth and sucking hard, a scream tearing free from your throat. Molten desire pools in your belly, your body humming with energy begging to be released. “Come on, darling, let me hear you. Give me everything you’ve got,” he moans, your cunt dripping on his tongue.

“Oh, fuck, m’cumming, Daddy, fuck! Oh, God, feels s’good, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimper, pure pleasure breaking you wide open, your vision whiting out as Matty’s tongue curls deep inside of you. You throb around him, every muscle in your body suddenly jelly, his hands on your thighs the only thing anchoring you to reality. Matty gets to his feet with a smirk, wordlessly prising your jaw open and sliding his wet fingers into your mouth.

You wrap your fingers around his tongue, sucking and licking the taste of you off his skin and moaning softly. “Good girl. You look so fucking gorgeous when you cum, princess.” He catches your lips in a messy kiss, your slick on his tongue as it sweeps your mouth, his hands finding your hips and pulling you close. “You up for a little day out, angel? Wanna show off my pretty girl, make everyone jealous of me.”

You giggle. “I told you. Anything you want. If you want to bend me over and show the entire fucking world who I belong to, I’ll drop my panties right then and there, promise.”

Matty’s jaw clenches, nails digging into your hips. “Don’t want anyone else seeing you like that, ever,” he growls. “C’mon, princess, go and get dressed. Got a busy day planned,” he grins.

“When did you have time to plan a day out?” you scoff, hopping to your feet and heading back up the stairs.

“Wanted to take you out and ask you to be my girlfriend, but that part got wrecked. I still wanna spoil you, baby.” He wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss into your hair.

You melt into his touch, leaning into him with a soft, private smile. “You’re too sweet,” you say, pulling away from him to step into your discarded underwear and jeans, turning to rifle through his drawers. After a few moments, you find what you were looking for, a shirt that must be a remnant of some distant, misspent youth; so small it’s almost your size, and it must have been cropped short on him because it barely brushes the hem of your jeans. “Did you actually wear this?” you laugh, turning this way and that as you admire how surprisingly well the shirt flatters you.

Matty laughs. “Told you, I was in a band in my twenties. Made some questionable fashion choices, but I made it work.”

Your eyes light up. “You have to show me. Please, I have got to see what you looked like when you fit into this,” you plead, and he scoffs.

“Nah. Looks better on you, anyway,” he says, sliding a pair of sunglasses over your eyes and kissing your cheek, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Have you got a jacket? It’s fucking cold, for June,” he comments, a poor attempt at sounding casual.

It’s not that cold, and he knows damn well you don’t have a jacket. “Hmm, nope.” You pop the ‘p’ obnoxiously. “Guess I’ll have to borrow one of yours,” you say airily, as if that wasn’t his obvious fucking game all along. He slides a leather jacket over your shoulders, well-worn and smelling like him, and your reflection stops you dead. You look fucking hot. You look like a rich man’s scandalously young girlfriend, the graceful lines of him slotting perfectly into the picture. You snap a sweet photo of the two of you as he kisses your temple, and you giggle up at him.

“God, never gonna get over how gorgeous you look wearin’ my clothes, darling,” he murmurs, giving your ass a little smack and hurrying you into the car. His hand is familiar on your thigh as he drives, the warmth of his touch soaking into your skin and fizzing up in your chest. He presses kisses to your cheek at every red light, his gaze adoring every time it lands on you.

You share a lazy, light breakfast, trading kisses over pastries and coffee; yours heaped with cream and sugar and his bitter and black. Matty listens as you explain your friends’ petty little dramas, nodding or frowning at all the right moments but wise enough not to weigh in. He presses you against the car when you leave, digging one hand into your hair and the other into your waist and kissing the sugary-almond taste out of your mouth. “Pretty girl,” he praises, smiling as you flush. 

“Sweet boy,” you murmur, kissing his nose as he pulls back and opens the passenger-side door for you. “Such a gentleman,” you giggle, sliding into your seat. You fiddle with the radio, turning to him expectantly when the car stays in park. “Thought you had the whole day planned out?”

“I do,” he grins. “Just waitin’ for you to tell me where you like to shop, angel.” 

You smile, rattling off a list that comes as easily as breathing. “Are you gonna take me shopping?” you giggle as the engine purrs to life. “Won’t you get bored?”

“Nah,” he shrugs, reversing out of the car park. “I’ll be like the male lead in a romcom, carrying all your bags and following you like a lost puppy. It’ll be well funny,” he chuckles, and you can’t help but laugh, the image of him laden with shopping he’s paying for and wandering around a boutique looking slightly mystified frankly adorable.

“You’d make a good movie star. Just about pretty enough.” Matty gives an offended scoff and lights a cigarette, sulkily facing away from you as he takes a drag. An old favourite song crackles through the radio and you sing along, uninhibited and happy and maybe even a little in love.

Matty smiles at you indulgently as you start flipping through clothing racks, running your fingers through the fabric and musing which pieces already in your closet they’d pair well with. You pull out a pretty little summer dress, white and lacy with pink florals, and hold it up without looking at the price tag. “What do you think?” you grin, watching him picture you wearing it with a sleazy smile.

“If you want it, it’s yours,” he shrugs. “Go wild, princess.” Not one to look a gift horse, you take him at his word, draping the dress over your arm and fluttering off to flip through the skirts. A scandalously short leather mini catches your eye, and you hold it against your hips thoughtfully.

Matty’s jaw tightens unsubtly. “Oh, don’t be such a boy,” you tease. “I’ll model it for you later,” you add with a grin, and his hands fly to your waist and pull you in.

“Please don’t get me all worked up, sweetheart,” he pleads against your lips. “Don’t wanna have to cut this short because I had to bring you home and take what I need from you, do you?”

Your insides melt into liquid and you flush, heat slick under your skin. “Tempting,” you smirk. “Later tonight?”

His eyes darken, sparkling with allure. “I’m counting the minutes,” he murmurs against your lips, taking an inappropriately greedy handful of your ass and pressing his lips against yours.

Your knees go weak when Matty licks into your mouth, his tongue hedonistic and clever and sure. You indulge yourself in his kiss for a few moments, his body pressing against yours as he threads a hand into your hair. “Mmh, stop trying to distract me,” you say, voice slightly rough with desire. “I’m gonna bleed you dry, darling.”

Matty grins. “Do your worst, angel.”

And you certainly try your fucking hardest, piling his arms high with blouses and dresses and skirts; lipsticks and powders and creams; pumps and heels and sandals. When Matty starts dragging his feet, you take pity on him and pull him into the lingerie section, his jaw going slightly slack as he stares around; he looks vaguely guilty, like he’s been caught somewhere he shouldn’t.

You pluck a delicate, white corset off the rack, holding it up musingly. “How about this? Might be cute with one of those skirts?” Matty swallows thickly, clearly stuck for words that won’t get the pair of you banned from the store and maybe arrested for lewd behaviour.

“I like it.” He clears his throat. “A lot.”

You grin mischievously. “I have an idea, Daddy,” you murmur, the word a delicious taboo as it slips from your lips, scandalously inappropriate on the wide-open shop floor. “Should get yourself some presents, too. Pick some stuff out for me?”

A filthy smirk splits his face, and you shiver, a thrill running up your spine. Matty, it turns out, has extremely discerning tastes, at least when it comes to lingerie. Everything he chooses is carefully considered, holding the lace against your skin to consider the colour, the shape, the cut of the piece and how it’ll sit on your body. You end up heaped with a pile of bras and panties, corsets and teddies, babydoll dresses and chemises, slightly dizzy at the thought of dressing up in them for him.

“Think that’s more than enough to keep us both happy, don’t you, princess?” he grins, leading you to the counter. It takes aeons to get you rung up, and you feel a little faint at the sight of the total; it’s more than five thousand pounds. Matty doesn’t even look fazed, though, kissing you softly and swiping his card like it’s nothing. It’s maybe a little embarrassing, but you feel a faint tingle of arousal at him taking such a massive sum in stride.

You drape yourself across him as he loads your bags into the car, pressing grateful kisses anywhere you can reach. “Thank you, Daddy. Too good to me. Tell me how I can make it up to you.”

Matty smiles, wide and warm and so fucking sweet you can taste the honey dripping from his mouth. “Don’t need to, angel. Just let me spoil you. Like seein’ you happy after I was such a little bitch before. M’sorry, sweet girl.”

You laugh as you slide into the car beside him. “I’ve accepted worse apologies for worse things from far worse men. I think we’re more than even now.” You run your hand over his thigh, cupping his cock with a smirk. “How about I put on a little fashion show for you when we get back? Call it even when I can’t even remember my own name?”

He grins. “You are filthy,” he says delightedly, throwing on a burst of speed that pins you against the seat, suddenly desperate to get the pair of you into a bedroom. 

Matty’s mouth is ravenous on yours as soon as you’re alone, dropping the bags to grip your waist hungrily and pull you flush against him. “Mmh, hold on,” you say, breaking away regretfully. “Don’t you wanna see me all dolled up for you, Daddy?”

Groaning, Matty slides his hands down to your waist, spanking you when you bend over to retrieve your bags. A pulse of wanton arousal throbs stickily between your legs, an involuntary moan rumbling from your lips. “Pretty little slut,” he mumbles approvingly. “Wanna get that pretty ass all red for me, god.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you murmur, straightening up and leaning back against him. “Anything you want.” He follows you up the stairs, making himself comfortable on the bed as you slip into the bathroom and change. You primp and preen, experimenting with lip swatches and sparkling eyeshadow, switching out your outfit until you’re satisfied. 

Matty is waiting on the bed when you slip back into the room. The sight of him, his legs spread wide and clad only in boxers with one hand lazily palming his cock through the fabric, is almost enough to make you abandon your plans. “D’you like the skirt now, Daddy?” you ask, pulling the waistband down to reveal the scrap of deep-red satin clinging to your waist.

“Mmm, I don’t know if I’m quite convinced yet, princess,” he teases. “Think you should show me what it looks like off.”

A heavy pulse of want wells between your thighs, and you grin. “Let me put on a little show for you, first.” You cue up a carefully-curated playlist, swaying your hips in time with the beat and slowly peeling off your shirt. Matty’s breath catches at the sight of you, groaning low in his throat, the sound going straight to your cunt.

Turning and bending over right on cue, you shake your ass, flashing your panties under the skirt; Matty moans outright. “So gorgeous, princess. Gettin’ me so fucking hard, god,” he groans, and as you turn to face him, you’re treated to the sight of him freeing his cock, slowly pumping it and watching you intently. Your skirt slides to the floor as Matty fucks into his fist, delicious, gasping little moans tumbling from his lips. “Fuck, c’mere, please,” he pleads, gaze fixed on you as you stalk to the edge of the bed.

“Wanna sample the merchandise, huh?” you tease, straddling his lap and grinding down on his cock. Matty’s hands come up to your tits, palming and squeezing greedily as your head falls forward to meet his lips. You let him grope you for a few long, delicious minutes, his hands finding your hips, your waist, your ass and digging in. Then, you hop off his lap, and Matty whines. “I’ve still got more stuff to try on,” you grin, slipping away and changing into a sheer-white babydoll with a matching thong.

Matty chokes on air at the sight of you, and you smile angelically, kneeling at the foot of the bed. “God, gonna drive me crazy, darling. Need to fuck you so bad,” he groans, his cock flushed red and dripping as it disappears into his fist.

You giggle. “M’glad you picked this one, Daddy. D’you wanna know what I thought when I saw it?” He nods, dazed and practically drooling. “I thought, ‘That’s what I wanna wear around the house when I’m bein’ a good little housewife for my Daddy,’” you murmur, and Matty has a physical reaction, shuddering as his eyes go wide, the fantasy playing clear as day on his face.

“Fuck, princess,” he groans. “Angel. Darling. Sweet girl. Come here. Let me fuck you, please,” he begs, hips shifting needily as he pumps his cock.

Draping yourself over his lap, you smile blithely up at him. “You promised to spank me, Daddy,” you pout, and Matty gives a filthy smirk, tracing his fingers over your panties as you shudder and squirm.

“Such a filthy little slut, god,” he murmurs. “This sweet little ass is gonna look so pretty covered in my handprints, baby. Gonna remind you who you belong to every time you sit down, yeah?”

Arousal swirls through your body, wanton need dripping from your neglected cunt. “Belong to you, Daddy. Your girl— ah!” you gasp as Matty’s hand comes down, meeting your ass harshly. A long, low moan pulls from your throat, sweet pain tangling with the burning need under your skin. “Yes, Daddy, fuck. Please, more,” you whimper, face pressed against the sheets as you sink deeper into glorious submission. Three more smacks come in quick succession, the flesh of your ass flaming under his touch.

Matty kneads your tender skin gently, soothing before he delivers another hit, the pain washing over you and coiling into thick, palpable pleasure under your skin. “Love this pretty ass so much, princess,” he praises.

“Want you to fuck me there, one day,” you say dreamily, so lost in desire-slick fantasies that you don’t even process the admission as it falls from your lips. “Wanna be yours. Every single hole,” you murmur, eyes lidded and voice rough with lust. Matty freezes, and you tense. God, was that a weird thing to say? Too early to admit it? Is he gonna think you’re actually a slut now?

A moan of pure, unfiltered lust falls from his mouth and your thighs clench, the fabric of your panties soaked and sticky between your thighs. “Fuck, you can’t say things like that, princess. Gonna make me fuckin’ cum before I’ve even fucked you,” he murmurs, voice low and raked over gravel, thick with lust. His fingers tease over your clit through your panties, and you arch up into his touch, whimpering.

“Then fuck me,” you plead. “Please, Daddy. Want you.” Matty grins, manhandling you until you’re laying on your front, pleasure tense in your belly as he slides your panties to the side. 

Your cunt clenches around nothing, gasping and pleading softly as the sheets dig into your cheek. “This okay, angel? Wanna watch the bruises come up on your pretty little ass.”

Lifting your hips, you shake your ass at him, a smirk pulling at your lips. “Gonna think about fucking it, Daddy?” He groans, the sound going straight to your core, slick cunt dripping as you press against him. “S’okay if you do. I have been. When I’m alone, when I want you, fucking myself on my fingers and thinkin’ about you stretching me out there. Would feel so fucking— Ohh,” you break into a moan as Matty enters you with no warning, meeting no resistance from your soaked cunt.

“So fucking wet for me, princess. So fucking filthy, playing with that needy cunt and thinkin’ about me fucking your ass, god,” he groans, dipping his head to kiss between your shoulder blades. A shudder runs through you, the stretch and burn between your thighs familiar, the ache soothing.

Your cunt throbs, thick pulses of arousal hammering in time with your racing heart. “Harder, Daddy, please,” you whine, arching your back. Dizzying lust envelops you, your head hazy and light, practically floating clear of your body. A shocked moan escapes you as Matty spanks you again, pain sinking into pleasure that coils tightly through your insides. 

“Don’t be greedy, darling,” he chides. “C’mon, lift your hips a little for Daddy, okay?” Unthinkingly, you obey, letting him puppeteer you, mould you into whatever shape he likes. “Good girl,” he murmurs, sliding a pillow under your hips. You glow at the praise, nails scraping the sheets when he fucks deep into you, the change in angle sending waves of pleasure spilling over you.

“Ngh, Daddy, fuck,” you whimper, your words coming out garbled where your face presses into the sheets. Incoherent moans of please and fuck and I need and Daddy stumble from your lips, your body melting into a pleasure-soaked haze as Matty fucks deep into you.

Your hips meet obscenely, lewd sounds filling the room as your world narrows down to the four walls, aware of nothing but him. “That’s it, princess. Let it all out, let Daddy hear those pretty noises, yeah? Nobody else gets to hear you like this, right?” he coos, pinching your clit and moaning softly as your cunt clenches around him reflexively.

“N-no,” you promise shakily, struggling to pull the words to the forefront of your mind, delirious with pleasure. “Only you, Daddy. Only one who can fuck me like this. So fucking good.” You choke on a gasp, Matty’s hips meeting yours over and over, your vision swimming, your body set adrift in an ocean of sheer ecstasy. 

“Such a sweet girl,” Matty murmurs, teasing your clit as you whine powerlessly. Seemingly just for the fun of it, he slaps your ass again, the sweet sting tearing you open. Pleasure rushes through you, cradling your very organs, stoking a fire that chars your bones. “God, I love your pretty ass, darling. Can’t wait to fuck this tight little hole.” His words sink into your skin, wrapping tight around your sore muscles, ecstasy coiling in your veins. With what feels like a monumental effort, you rock your hips up towards him, Matty impossibly deep inside you.

The tip of his cock brushes that perfect spot inside you, sending a bright jolt of pure euphoria fizzing up your spine. A keening wail falls from your lips, a loud, uninhibited sound of undiluted pleasure. “Gettin’ close, angel? Wanna cum for your Daddy?” You nod wildly, indistinct, stifled pleas tumbling from your lips like prayers. “Go on, princess, cum for me. Cum all over my fuckin’ cock, make me cum.” In that same obedient, thoughtless way, you do. You choke and whimper and whine, drool pooling in your mouth and dripping out against the sheets as you moan the only word you know: Daddy. Euphoria burns white-hot under your skin, melting your organs until your body is made of liquid desire, messily strung together by flimsy ligaments. Matty’s touch is the only thing anchoring you to reality, your head still hazy as you drift back to Earth.

Matty’s pace is erratic, frenzied and wild and hot as your cunt pulses with aftershocks. “Cum on me,” you beg. “On my cunt, on my tits, on my face, I don't care. Just wanna see it, wanna feel it, want you to mark me, make me yours,” you plead, and Matty groans. He gives your ass one more swift smack for good measure and flips you over, your bruised skin screaming in protest as it presses into the sheets. Three quick passes of his fist over his cock and he’s cumming, white ropes splashing across your belly and up to your tits, painting your skin in a filthy, lurid display. “Thank you, Daddy,” you murmur as he breathes heavily above you. “Love bein’ your little cumdump.”

His head tips back, a disbelieving laugh bubbling free. “Such a good, sweet, pretty girl with such a filthy mouth, princess. So fuckin’ hot.” You smile proudly, dragging your fingers through his mess and sucking the taste of him off them. Matty’s eyes go wide, his head falling to lap at the skin between your tits, kissing and sucking ravenously at them. He makes his way up and presses his lips to yours, the taste of him smearing between your mouths, the kiss a filthy thing, alive with desire. “You’re beautiful,” he mumbles, hushed like he isn’t even aware of the words, and you flush.

“So are you,” you smile as he falls next to you, gazing adoringly into your eyes as your chests heave.

“We should get cleaned up,” he says with a weak chuckle, and you mumble an affirmative without even pretending to move. “Just a minute, princess, then I’ll get you cleaned up, cook us some dinner, yeah?” he promises, kissing you gently as your eyes flutter closed. Of course, the pair of you wake an hour or so later, dried cum on your belly and crusting into your brand-new lingerie, your thighs uncomfortably wet and sticking. Matty carries you into the bath, takes gentle care of you, the promised meal waiting when you pull yourself out of the now-lukewarm water. Pillar candles glow atop the dining table, the light sparkling off your wine glasses, and your heart melts.

It doesn’t take long for you to fall deeply, irrevocably in love with him; every passing day reveals something new to adore. The words spring to your lips at any and all moments, both opportune and not, and it starts to become a real struggle to swallow them back down. You don’t want to be too much, too soon, and truthfully you’re scared of what his answer will be, and even more so of how you’ll react.

Your private-not-secret relationship is your so-called friends’ favourite topic of discussion, so much so that you’re afraid it’ll get back to your parents before you’re ready for them to know. You try to keep them happy with minor tidbits, throw them off with misdirections (yes, he’s older; no, I won’t tell you by how much; no, my parents don’t know him), but their endless reserves of intrusion are starting to wear you down. Thea is your only confidante, the only one besides Matty himself who knows the ins and outs, and you’re fucking dying for someone new to brag and gush to. So when Matty texts you one day in mid-August, asking if you want to meet his friends, you jump at the chance.

My friends are absolutely desperate to meet you, by the way

Insist they have to meet this girl I won’t shut up about

I’ve been told to tell you Emerald Hill at 10pm on Saturday, and not to take no for an answer

If that tells you what kind of a bunch they are, fair warning

i’d love to :)

come pick me up at 8? then we’ll have time to get presentable before we have to go ;)

By the time Saturday rolls around, you’re practically fizzing with excitement, much to your parents’ suspicion — they’ve been sceptical all summer of how happy you’ve been, curious glances and pursed lips every time you so much as smile at your phone. The excitement has turned to nerves as you’re leaving Matty’s, though, roiling in your gut as you obsess over every detail that could go wrong. Matty wraps comforting arms around your waist from behind, kissing the top of your head and holding you close, the thump of his heartbeat at your back soothing. “Stop worryin’ so much, love. S’gonna be fine, okay?” He gives a boyish little grin as he opens the car for you. “Can’t wait for you to meet my boys. All my favourite people in one place,” he says, and you smile softly, that warm, fizzing affection you don’t want to give a name to creeping up your chest.

Matty lets you choose the music as you drive, shaking his head every time you queue up another glitter-gel-pen pop song. He takes your hand and leads you into the bar, a classy little place tucked into a street corner, his eyes lighting up as he catches sight of whoever you’re here to meet, swallowed into a bear hug by a tall blond when he reaches the table.

“Ah, mate, it’s been too long,” the other man says, pulling back and offering you a hand. “George.”

You look up into his face and your jaw drops. The hot DJ from that fateful night at 102 grins down at you, and your eyes widen as you try to take back your composure. Swallowing your tongue, you smile and give your name, taking a seat as Matty pulls a chair out for you. Just as you’re getting over that shock, you lock eyes with Charli and she smirks back at you.

“Sunshine Baby!” she exclaims. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You laugh, the tension in your shoulders loosening at the merest semblance of familiarity. “How do you remember that?” you laugh disbelievingly.

“Wait, you two know each other?” Matty interrupts.

Charli shrugs. “Sort of. Sunshine over here racked up a three hundred quid tab and tipped me a hundred on top. Don’t forget that in a hurry.”

You cover your face in embarrassment. “That makes me sound like an alcoholic,” you groan. “Your fault, by the way.” You poke Matty’s shoulder affectionately. “I was mad at you, practically fucking bought out the bar about it. Entire place got a free drink off me.”

“I like her,” another member of the group chimes in with a laugh. You look up to meet the eyes of the speaker, and– Jesus. One group of friends shouldn’t be allowed to have this many hot people in it. “Ross,” he says, and you smile politely. The last member of the party introduces himself as Adam, and you greet him with a smile, letting yourself get absorbed into rapid conversation and raucous laughter. “Right,” Ross interrupts. “Matty — you’re picking up the tab,” he declares. “Oh, don’t make that face,” he says as Matty scoffs. “Amount you drink, I’m not paying it on a teacher’s salary.”

You giggle. “Aw, give him a break. These days, I’m spending his money faster than he can make it,” you joke, and Charli cackles. You’re pleasantly tipsy, the alcohol loosening your lips and lifting the weight of anxiety in your chest, conversation flowing between you as easily as the wine in your glass. You cling to Matty as you leave, waving cheerful goodbyes and promising to text Charli to arrange a girls’ night.

“I’m gonna regret introducing you two, aren’t I?” Matty sighs, pulling you in close against the unseasonably cold wind, the warmth of his body soothing.

“No,” you giggle. “I love her. Wish I had friends like yours,” you say, wistful and slightly self-pitying as you slide into the car.

Matty cups your cheek, leaning in across the console to press a tender, loving kiss against your lips. “I’m sorry, baby. But you have me. Always gonna have me, yeah?”

Your heart flutters, those three little words rising in your throat once again. “I guess you’re a pretty good consolation prize,” you tease, pushing down the frightening intimacy of the moment with levity.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles. “Wanna come back with me? Or do you want me to drop you home?”

You scoff. “Is that even a question?”

The rest of your summer passes quickly, too quickly. You spend more time at Matty’s house than home, more and more of your things finding their place there as time passes. You start going to visit him at work without any other justification, every step nerve-wracking as your father’s presence looms. You have one unbelievably close call when he’s in the lobby as you’re leaving, frantically slamming the door close button in the lift before he can turn and spot you. Ruby stays just as hostile, seething at you and muttering warnings that Matty’ll be bored soon every time you pass her by. You take a petty, savage pleasure in tormenting her, just a little, deliberately pulling Matty in for long, filthy kisses as you open his office door.

By the time you can’t put off going back to uni any longer, there’s barely any point in you being home at all. Naturally, Matty offers to be the one to drive you up, and you seize the opportunity to be alone with him for the last time in however fucking long. Your father is privately relieved not to be the one to have to, you can tell, accepting your explanation that Thea’s just passed her test and she’s offered to drive me. You don’t mind, do you? without question. Shows how much he knows; Thea’s failed her practical six times and counting.

When you arrive, Matty insists that you don’t lift a finger, carrying all of your boxes upstairs and giving you something to ogle in the process. You’re the last one back, your housemates smirking at you and nudging each other at the sight of him, fourteen years your senior with grey in his hair, kissing you filthy and unashamed in plain view. Later, you mouth behind his back, their answering giggles reminding you that you do have good friends, after all.

Matty looks devastatingly gorgeous in the late-autumn sunset, leaning against his car with a cigarette dangling from his lips. You snatch it with a smirk, stretching up to peck his lips and taking a deep drag. His smile melts you into goo, your heart hammering so fast it might smash free of your ribcage. If you don’t say it now, you’ll lose your nerve.

“I love you,” you rush out, muffled against his chest as he holds you, arms cradling your body tight and warm and safe. “You don’t have to say it back, I just… I do, and I want you to know.” 

Matty pulls back to look at you, eyes soft with affection and adoration and maybe even something deeper. “Do you know how long I’ve been waitin’ to hear you say that, princess? God, I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much,” he groans, his hands at your waist the only thing keeping you upright as your knees go weak. “Think I might die, havin’ to be without you these next few weeks.” You giggle, giddy with infatuation and devotion and… God, you can just say love, now. “I’ll be back soon, don’t worry. Could never stay away from you.”

[sunshinepanic]

Unexpected 3

Pairing: Rafe Cameron X Reader

Summary: If someone had told you exactly what was going to happen when you left the boneyard with Rafe you never would have believed them.

Chapter Warning: JJ is kind of a douche, Angst, fluff, smut

Not beta read we die like men

WC: 2,062

OBX Masterlist - Series Masterlist

Finishing off your night eating pizza while sitting on Rafe’s kitchen counter in Tannyhill was not how you expected to end your night, but here you are. After Rafe found you at the boneyard all alone, he drove you back to Tannyhill so he could give you back your skateboard that he had left in his bedroom. As you followed him into the giant house, you couldn’t help but feel out of place. Everything was so extravagant that you were afraid if you moved wrong, you would ruin something you would never be able to afford to pay his family back for. Rafe, seemingly able to sense your feelings, smiled at you. “Relax, Sunshine. I know it’s a lot to get used to, but I promise you, even if you set something on fire in the living room, no one would notice. Besides, my family is out of town with Wheezie right now.” You felt some of the tension leave your shoulders as he caused you to laugh, and he continued to lead you through the house to the kitchen. Rafe opened the fridge and pulled out a soda for you and a beer for himself before asking you what kind of pizza you wanted. Once Rafe placed your order, you and him fell into an easy conversation. 

Once the pizza was delivered, you found yourself sitting on the kitchen counter eating while Rafe stood across from you. Every time he would finish a piece of pizza, he would gently throw his crust at you, causing you to squeal and duck out of the way while he laughed and claimed he was trying to throw it back in the box and not at you. You dodged the last crust he threw at you, tossing your own at him and smacking him in the chest with it. “So I have a serious question for you.” Rafe quirked his eyebrow at you. “Ok shoot.” You stared at him for a moment before asking. “Why do you call me sunshine?” The question seemed to startle a laugh out of Rafe. “You really want to know?” When you continued to stare at him, Rafe relented. “The first time I ever saw you, you were running around with John B and JJ, and you had the most intense resting bitch face I had ever seen. You were intimidating as hell, and I remember someone saying, “Well, isn’t she just a ray of sunshine?” And I thought it fit you perfectly.” After a few moments of silence, you doubled over in laughter. You couldn’t believe all this time he has been calling you sunshine because of your resting bitch face. 

Once your laughter died down, Rafe got a curious look on his face as he asked you, “So how are things with JJ? Are you doing okay?" You took a minute to think about your answer. “Things are a little awkward, but that’s expected. I love Kie and JJ, and I want them to be happy. It just hurts how he went about everything, but I’ll be fine. JJ is acting weird towards me a little, but I figure he’s just worried because of how everything went down.” Rafe nodded along as you spoke. “Well, I’m glad you are feeling better about everything. I know how you felt about him, even if I don’t get the appeal at all.” You laughed and threw another pizza crust at him for the subtle jab he threw in about JJ. “You actually helped me with that a lot. I was in my head about it, but you helped distract me and get me out of my own head. That reminds me.” You remembered the bracelet you made for him and removed it from your other bracelets. You quickly toss it at him. His eyes widen as he catches it. “I made this for you. I know it’s not a lot, and you will probably think it’s stupid, I don’t expect you to wear it or anything, but I wanted to give you something to say thanks for the other night.” Rafe looked down at the bracelet, running his thumb across the little sun charm you had woven into it. No one had ever given him something; they actually put time and effort into making him. Usually, people opt to just throw money at him or randomly buy something expensive with no thought behind it. Just when you were starting to feel really stupid about the whole situation, Rafe’s big hands were cupping your face, and his lips were crashing against your own. You startled for a moment, as you didn’t even register him moving towards you, but you quickly reciprocated the kiss, gripping onto his broad shoulders. 

If kissing JJ knocked the wind out of you, kissing Rafe was like being set on fire. Your entire body felt like a live wire, and you were hyper-aware of every point of contact. Rafe’s hands found their way to your hips, and he bit your lip as he gripped them, causing you to moan. Rafe took the opportunity to lick his way into your mouth. You buried your hands in his hair as your hips rolled against him, feeling his growing erection pressing against you. Rafe pulled back from the kiss, breathing heavily, and it jerked you out of your daze. You felt panic start to set in. This couldn’t happen to you again. You knew he was just fucking with you. God damn it, how fucking pathetic could you be? He was probably going to tell everyone about this and how delusional you were to think he would actually give you the time of day. Then Rafe’s rough voice cut through your internal monologue. “Is this okay? Do you want me to stop?” You focused back on him, noticing that he wasn’t pulling away, and he looked like he genuinely just wanted to make sure you were okay with this. Panting, you nodded your head, not trusting your voice, and surged forward to kiss him again.

Rafe’s hands slid under your hips as he hoisted you off the kitchen counter, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist. Somehow he managed to maneuver you up the stairs and to his bedroom, where he kicked the door shut and gently let you down. You slid your hands under Rafe’s shirt, and he quickly pulled it over his head. You left kisses across his chest as your hands got to work on removing his belt and jeans. Once you got his pants undone, they fell to the ground, and you dropped to your knees on the plush carpet, kissing your way down his body. Rafe groaned at the sight of you looking up at him as you slowly pulled his black boxer briefs down his muscular thighs. Rafe’s chest was heaving as you looked up at him from your position on your knees, and you slowly leaned forward, licking a stripe up his hard length, causing his head to fall back and a moan to fall from his lips. There was something so exhilarating about how you had him completely naked and wanting while you were still fully clothed. Rafe quickly looked back down at you as you took his length into your warm mouth. Your eyes slipped shut in concentration as you tried to take all of him into your mouth. You feel him thread his fingers through your hair. “Eyes up here, baby. Take your time.” Maintaining eye contact with Rafe as he moaned and praise fell from his lips caused you to clench your thighs together, looking for some sort of relief. 

You take what you can’t fit into your mouth in your hand and slowly guide him back into your mouth. You maintain eye contact as your tongue moves slowly under the ridge and around his tip, causing his breathing to become faster. As you increase suction, you feel him straining to hold back his orgasm. The next thing you know, Rafe is hauling you up from the ground and tossing you on the bed. It startles a laugh out of you, but then he quickly covers your body with his own. He slides his hands up under his sweatshirt as he’s kissing you. Leaning back, he helps you sit up to remove it. Noticing you aren’t wearing anything underneath, he lets out a groan as his eyes catch on the baby blue barbells that adorn your puffy nipples. “God damn it, you’re perfect.” Rafe quickly leans down, attaching his mouth to one nipple and then the next, causing you to moan and arch into his warm mouth. He takes his time alternatingly kissing your breasts and playing with your nipple rings with his tongue while he undoes your shorts, slipping them off and throwing them across the room.

He slowly works his way down your body, maintaining eye contact, and places a kiss on your black silk panties. “Look at you; you’re so wet, and I’ve barely even touched you, Sunshine. Did sucking my cock make you this wet?” You let out a pitiful whine, bucking your hips towards his face. Chuckling, he pins your hips to the mattress as he slowly peels the damp fabric away. “Use your words, baby.” Whining, you relent. “Yes. It’s all because of you. Please touch me.” A predatory smile slides across his beautiful face. “Good girl.” He dives down, licking a broad stripe up your center, causing you to moan. Sitting up on your elbows, you are mesmerized as he laps at your core like you are the sweetest thing he has ever tasted. You toss your head back as Rafe waists no time pushing two fingers into your needy core. His fingers are so long and thick, hitting all the spots you can never manage to reach by yourself. You can feel your orgasm approaching as your walls start to tighten around his thick fingers, but before you can crash over the edge, Rafe pulls away, causing you to whimper at the sudden empty feeling. Chuckling Rafe shushes you as he crawls back over your body. "Shh, shh, it’s ok, baby. I’m going to make you feel so good. I promise. But the first time I make you cum, I want it to be on my cock.” He smirks as he guides his tip to your entrance. All of the air is knocked out of you as you feel him slowly start to sink into you. You wrap your legs around his waist and dig your nails into his back at the almost painful stretch. You weren’t a virgin by any means, but he was definitely bigger than anyone you had ever been with. Once he was fully seated inside you, he gave you a few minutes to adjust while kissing you passionately. When he started making shallow thrusts, you moaned at the feeling, spurring him to go faster and a bit harder. "God, Sunshine, look at you; you’re taking me so well.” The praise falling from his lips, along with the bruising grip he had on your hips and the exquisite feeling of him pounding into you, was pushing you rapidly towards your release. Rafe could feel your orgasm getting closer as you moaned louder. “I know, baby. I’ve got you.” You feel his hand move, and his thumb starts to rub tight circles over your aching clit. You feel your walls start to convulse around him as your back arches and stars flash behind your eyes. You dig your nails into his back once again, triggering his release. You feel him spasm inside of your sensative walls as you slowly come down from your high.

After a few minutes of catching your breath, Rafe carefully slips out of you and makes his way to the en-suite bathroom. Before you can start to feel awkward, Rafe reappears with a damp cloth and gently cleans you up, wiping over your sensitive pussy with the cool cloth. Once he’s finished, he tosses the cloth somewhere in the room as he lays down and wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his warm chest. Surrounded by Rafe’s woodsy scent and his heartbeat in your ear, you start to drift off. You know that you should talk about what just happened, but before you can say anything, sleep pulls you under.

Next

Tags: @starkeys-world @nnarellia @iluvanakinskywalker @maybankslover @hazzarules @my-fabulouseness-has-arrived @fishingirl12 @redhead1180 @esquivelbianca

[allllium]

Heyaaa, I have a request! If it's not too much trouble, have you listened to too sweet by Hozier.. that song with the tf 141 boys (if it could be Ghost, it would be great!!)

Thanks in advance!!! And it's perfectly fine if you don't wanna!

~ I'm really sorry this took so long, I have not been feeling great but here it is. I hope you like this because honestly I am terrible at comprehending songs but I think this fits pretty well :)

~ If you're not happy with this for any reason please let me know and I will happily redo it with your advice <3

~ Fluff, WC: 1,189

You have a crush on Simon Riley. You know this, and so does everyone else, including him. Despite the very obvious adoration on your part he's never said anything about it.

You honestly have no idea how he feels about you and you're not sure you want to know. You do tons of little things for him and he does things for you, but that's all your relationship entails.

You are both so different it's not like you could ever fit together so perfectly, right?

I take my whiskey neat

“Here you are Lt.” You slide him a drink across the table. He makes a face behind his mask that you now recognize as his scowl. “Don't make that face at me.”

“You can't even see my face,” he replies, in his signature thick accent. “And I don't need you buying me drinks.”

“Well that's too bad 'cause’ I did. Don't tell me you're gonna let good whiskey go to waste.”

His deep brown eyes stare at you for a heavy moment before picking up the drink, lifting his mask just enough to show his cut jaw and full lips.

“Usually this is where I get a thank you.” You taunt him, trying not to let your gaze linger on what you can see of his perfect but slightly messed up face.

“Don't push your luck, Sargent.”

My coffee black…

“Oh dark like your soul, ain't that right Lt.” You gesture towards his black mug of black coffee.

Simon takes a deep breath as he takes in your words, his chest rising and falling in annoyance. He shakes his head silently, apparently not wanting to pleasure you with a response.

“Seriously, how do you drink that?” You put your hand on his perfect arm to push him out of the way of the coffee pot.

“Oh let me guess you take your coffee with a pound of sugar.” He rolls his eyes at you, in more of an attitude than you appreciate.

“Incorrect. I'm sweet enough as it is.” You smile at him while you turn around to stir your drink.

“Maybe a little too sweet don't you think?”

“Only to you.” You mutter under your breath.

…And my bed at three

“Oi Lt, what are you doing up at this hour?” You take amusement at the way this giant of a man jumps slightly at your voice.

“Did you just say oi?” He asks as if he didn't just hear you say it.

“Yes I did, do we need to get your hearing checked?” You make fun of him for the hundredth time that day.

“Why?” His gruff voice cuts through the air.

“I want it on record that I don't appreciate this attitude of yours. And I said "oi” because I'm becoming more like you.”

“I don't say oi.”

“I don't believe you. You sound like you say it.” You shrug and take a seat on the couch next to you.

“What does that mean?” He sits down next to you but he seems like he doesn't want a real answer.

“Your voice.”

“What's wrong with my voice?” This time it seems like he actually wants to know what you think.

“Oh nothing. It's a nice voice but it just gives me oi vibes.” He stares at you like you're crazy.

“I have a nice voice do I?”

“Don't let it get to your head.” You lay your head.on his shoulder.

No one speaks for a while but eventually Simon sits up. “It's three in the morning, we should get to bed.”

“Yeah that's probably smart.” You give him a big smile when you stand up. “Goodnight Lt.”

You're too sweet for me

“And here you are.” You take a dramatic bow as you hand Simon his gift, acting as if you just delivered the most important thing in the world.

“What is this?” He asks with a tone of impatientence.

“A gift.”

“It's not a holiday-” You quickly cut him off.

“Or your birthday I know, but I remember you saying something about it and got it for you”

“How do you know it's not my birthday, I've never told you that.” He pauses for a split second before continuing, “Did you look at my files?”

“That's not important, open your gift.” He shakes his head but opens the bag you've given him.

Quickly, he pulls out a mask just like the one he's currently wearing. A mask you've handmade just for him.

“What is this?” He instantly demands.

“That is what we call a mask sir. I remember you told me about that one having an annoying hole so I thought I'd help you out. Originally I was just gonna patch the hole but then I figured that mask has been through a lot so you deserved a new one.”

He loudly clears his throat. “I hope you know there won't be a gift in return.”

“I don't expect one, simply doing a nice thing.”

“Well thank you Sargent.” You smile at his thanks, feeling how much he means it.

“Anytime.” Is the only word you get in before he runs off.

You're too sweet for me

“You know this is basically our third date.” You randomly blurt out. You're sitting with Simon in a coffee shop off base. You don't know what you were expecting with Simon off base but one thing you never thought about when inviting him out is his absence of the mask.

Obviously wearing it would draw more attention than usual but now you're sitting straight across from the face of the man you're practically fawning over.

“This is not a date.” He defends roughly.

“Yes it is, our first was dinner and second was the bar so that makes this the third.”

“Those weren't dates, just outings between friends.” He runs his eyes everywhere but your face.

“Aww so you admit we're friends.” You can't help but tease. “But I'm being serious Simon. You can't deny it forever.”

“Yes I can.” He fiddles with his drink as you continue your mini interrogation.

“No you can't. I know you like me, Lt. Why won't you say it.”

“You're different.” He begins.

“If you start to say I'm dumb you're getting punched.”

“No! Of course not. You're different from me and I don't know if we would work.”

“Bullshit. Spill it.”

“Fine, you're too sweet.” He spits out as if it was fire coming out.

You can't help the bubbling laugh that spills out your mouth. “Too sweet? What does that even mean?” You ask him, still laughing.

“I don't know. You're too sweet to me, you give me things and you say all the right things and I don't think I could give all that back to you.”

‘I don't want you to give me anything back. I want you to give me you, you're too sweet for me too Lt. Even if it is in a different looking way.” You slide your hand across the table to lay on his. He returns your hold and gives you a smile that is uniquely his. This is all you need.

[ominosus]

bruises and quiet aches — ominis gaunt x fem!reader x sebastian sallow Part III

Part I here ❤︎ Part II here ❤︎

Here is part three! I'm happy so many of you enjoyed part two ❤︎ Things are, ehm... heating up to say the least in this one B) hehehe... Let me know if you'd like a fourth part ❤︎

plot summary: older ominis gaunt x fem!reader x Sebastian sallow

warnings: recommended 18+, smutty (but nothing too explicit), a little angsty, slow burn, kissing, mention of blood

The world had fallen mute, at least for a second. You narrowed your eyes at the embellished ceiling and its murals that moved gracefully above you — slowly dragging you upwards. The painted, luscious trees swayed in the wind, revealing something glistening behind its green curtains, and around the branches, stems, and into the ground and up again, swirled a large, lean, white serpent. You tried to find the face of the snake but were unsuccessful. Yet, you could sense that it was watching you from behind the anonymity of the leaves.

Your swollen, blurry gaze tried to adjust to the evening sun peering into Ominis’ bedroom. It was as spacious as his office and each room seemed to be able to fit another manor in it — grand to a tee. At first you said no to his suggestion to rest that sounded more like a command, to take a nap — but then, trying to take a few steps off of his desktop, you felt your legs cave beneath you. So, now you found yourself lying on your back in his crisp, amber, cotton sheets. Regardless of the numerous empty guest rooms, he insisted on you sleeping in his. His point being: you were not a guest. Which made Sebastian snort and roll his eyes and left you with the ever returning question of: where does that leave me? The burning sensation left on your lips from Sebastian having crashed his own upon them pointed you towards one answer, but having him flee to the other side of the building as the incident eventually dawned on him, as your presence dawned on him, only pointed you towards a sea of even more questions. Your visit was tumultuous, indeed — for all of you. You were all experiencing growing pains safely tucked away for several years, because as you returned to your past, you realised you never truly left it in the first place – and everywhere you looked, you could find yourself.

Knock, knock, knock…

Quickly awakening from the tangle of your thoughts you looked towards the other end of the room, and before you knew it, Ominis appeared from behind the doors. His dark eyebrows curved perfectly above his fog-laced eyes. He was now wearing a midnight-blue, thin knit that praised his frost-kissed skin – as his white shirt had gotten blood on it. He sauntered closer towards you in his bed, dragging his lean fingers through his pale-blond hair, only to have it fall in front of his eyes immediately. You dragged yourself upwards a little, resting against the black, wooden bedframe. ”Have you been able to sleep a little?” he asked as he got closer. Shifting on the bed you realised how timid you felt all of a sudden — trying to brush your hair in place with your fingers, even though he couldn’t see you.”Ye-” you started only to hear your own voice falter. Ominis’ pale eyes gazed towards you as he placed himself beside the bed. Feeling your cheeks burn hot, you cleared your throat. ”I did, yes — I managed to sleep for a little while… at least.” you spoke quietly. ”That’s good…” he hummed as his fingertips graced the sheets of his bed. ”-but you should rest for at least a couple of days…” he added, feeling his way forward until his fingers reached the bump of the fabric above your legs and feet, making them tingle. He sat down at the end of his bed next to your legs as his gaze rested somewhere on the rug, his hair falling softly in front of his eyes. ”-to let your body recoup.” he finished before sighing. ”How…” Ominis started, but fell silent. He seemed a little hesitant to you suddenly being there, at arms reach, after having been gone for so long. You could see the conflict within him play out in front of you — his eyebrows bowing, his jaw clenched. ”How does it look?” he finally spoke, softly yet a little strained, pointing towards you — aiming at your waist. You looked down as you carefully pulled up the oversized shirt you had borrowed from him. You sighed heavily as you let the red marks stretching across your skin sink in. ”I’ll be ok…” you muttered quietly. ”-thanks to you.” you finished, looking up at him just in time to see him nod. ”May I?” he asked, pointing yet again towards your waist — his misty eyes gazing out somewhere into the room. ”Eh-m-yeah…” you gulped. ”-of course.” you finished before sitting up a little straighter.

Ominis moved closer up towards you, feeling his way above the cotton duvet. You felt the weight of his hand above your shin, knee and thigh… Without thinking about it you held your breath. His hand moved gently across the border of the duvet and you, until his fingers landed on the warm skin of your stomach, making it flinch a little. Ominis looked calm as he slowly dragged his fingers above your skin until he felt the edges of the scar, on which he slowed down. All words were lost on you and it felt as if you’d seized to exist only to turn into the very tips of Ominis’ fingers. You felt him move above the scar tissue, slowly, gently, before he placed his entire hand above it — it was cold against your warm skin as it pressed down slightly. ”How does this feel?” he asked quietly. You couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed, flushed red, lips swollen, and unable to speak a single coherent word. For a moment you’d forgotten about the pain and the wound — all you could feel was Ominis. ”It’s…” you mumbled, forcing yourself to say something. ”It feels much better.” you managed quietly. Ominis lifted his hand off of you, making you frown at the loss of contact while feeling even more embarrassed at your sudden neediness — as if every year of quiet longing came rushing back. ”Glad to hear it.” Ominis spoke calmly. Yet, there was something lingering in his voice… A certain type of solemness. ”The scar will remain.” he added, still looking out into the room, but now, looking up at him, you saw that his cheeks were red too. Your lungs moved heavily within your chest. ”Resting should do you well.” he spoke. He was frustratingly stoic, formal, reserved. You sensed his leaving and searched rather desperately within your head for leverage until you finally opened your mouth.

”Do you know you have a snake slithering about your ceiling?” you asked. Ominis sighed before he relaxed his body on the bed again. He sat silent for a little while, tilting his head to the side. ”I’ve heard there is supposed to be one there, yes…” he spoke quietly. ”-but I’ve never heard of anyone actually seeing it.” he finished before he frowned a little. Your breathing slowed down as you looked at him. Your eyes’ swollenness seemed to spread to your lips, making them ache. ”How did it look?” Ominis asked gently. ”Huh?” you mumbled, looking at his rosy lips that glistened a little against his teeth. ”How did it look?” he repeated, shifting his foggy gaze towards you. ”Oh-” you mumbled again. You looked up towards the ceiling only to realise that the serpent was gone — there was only a forest of trees swaying above you. You couldn’t see it anywhere, not a single white scale in sight. ”It’s…” you quietly spoke. ”What?” Ominis asked. ”I could have sworn it was there a second ago and…” you continued. ”-and now it’s gone.” you finished, still looking up at the mural. Without you seeing it, Ominis tugged at his lips. ”Perhaps it’s shy…” he mused quietly. ”-or incredibly selective of its audience.” he added. You looked at him and his pale gaze. ”I should feel honored then.” you spoke, tugging at the corner of your lips. ”Oh, the honor is entirely the serpent’s.” Ominis quickly  countered, making your cheeks burn much redder than before. If you squinted you could see a familiar smile on his lips as you both sighed in unison — for a moment it felt as if nothing had changed. It all pulled you back to your days together, before you left – and if you listened closely, you could hear his subdued panting against your ear in the undercroft and feel his breath against your ear. The boy you once knew had grown up now, you both had – and all you could think about was how it all would feel today, how he'd sound, how his hands would feel against you. ”Hm.” you hummed in response. You tried to look into his pale-blue eyes, but found it incredibly difficult as it felt he could see right through you. 

”How’s…” you started, yet falling short. ”How’s… Sebastian doing?” you asked. ”Ah, yes, Sebastian…” Ominis spoke quietly before sighing. ”He’s feeling a little… torn, to say the least.” he added. ”He’s never been one known for restraining his emotions…” he continued, breathing out a short sigh. ”I don’t think he feels he can control himself… around you.” he finished, shifting his gaze towards you again. You nodded, mostly to yourself — feeling responsible for opening up old wounds by returning with yours. ”And..” you started, yet falling short again. ”And how are you feeling?” you finally asked, looking up towards him. ”Well…” he started, swaying a little on his voice. ”I can’t say I blame Sebastian — not this time.” he added. ”I know how he feels.” he finished. A black little pit took shape within your stomach, twisting itself, and it felt as if it would pull you into it altogether. You wanted to grab ahold of the blue cotton on Ominis’ wrist and drag it closer but it felt as if you were glued against the bedframe. Ominis sighed heavily before he looked out into his bedroom as you looked at him.

”I missed you.” he spoke, ever so softly, slicing your chest right open. You wanted to shield yourself from all the emotions that came falling down on you but you couldn’t. ”I’ve missed you terribly, y/n.” he repeated. Your heart rung loudly within your chest. Without thinking too much about it you reached out to his hand resting on top of the duvet, placing it in yours. Ominis’ gaze was still somewhere in the room, but you could see his chest moving slowly and heavily at your touch before you felt his hand tighten, softly, around yours. The room fell silent again except for your harmonious breathing. You adjusted yourself on the bed, moving a little bit closer towards him as you enclasped his hand with both of yours — at this, Ominis’ head fell forward slightly. ”I really am sorry for hurting you — both of you.” you added, looking up at him and his august profile bowing. He closed his eyes. ”I thought I did the right thing.” you finished. Ominis sighed before he dragged his hand from out of your hold, sending a cold shiver down your spine at the loss of contact. He started to rise from the bed but you quickly grabbed ahold of his wrist, stopping him from getting too far. ”Please don’t go.” you blurted out softly, pleadingly. Ominis sighed again, turning a little towards you where he stood. ”You should rest.” he spoke. You frowned up at him. ”I’m alright.” you answered. You felt incredibly vulnerable and you desperately wanted him to be there with you — to not tread too far. ”Stay.” you gently begged. Ominis shook his head as he raised his free hand to massage his eyebrows, sighing heavily. ”Sebastian isn’t the only one having a hard time restraining himself, y/n.” he spoke, somewhat sternly, gazing down towards where you sat on his bed. ”You don’t have to restrain yourself.” you spoke. ”I don’t want you to.” you added. Ominis sighed once again. ”Is that truly what you want? Do you even have the slightest idea of what that means?” he asked, sounding both frustrated and calm at the same time, the way only Ominis could. You released the hold of his wrist, making him place his hands inside of his pockets. ”Hm?” he hummed, urging an answer. ”I’ve missed you…” he continued. ”-but I can’t…” he spoke before sighing. ”I can’t keep hoping for you to always return — to stay – only when it pleases you.” he added softly. ”Because it’s all I’d ever do.” he finished quietly. It felt as if someone tore your chest wide open, pulling your heart from out of its cage, ready for the vultures to come pick at your flesh. 

Even if you’d ran away you’d always carry them with you — a part of you would always be there, as it always had been, right next to them, in their pockets, close to their hearts, course trough their veins — and now, when you returned it felt as if you had run from the inevitable. ”But…” you spoke, ever so quietly. ”-what if I’ don’t run?” you asked. ”If I wanted to stay?” you added as your sight landed somewhere on the rug beneath Ominis’ feet. He turned towards you, pondering your words. ”Do you want to stay?” he asked. You looked up at him and his clouded eyes that peered somewhere above you. ”If… you want me to.”you answered, anxious — as if on trial, waiting for the crowd to pass on their judgement. ”I’m serious, y/n.” Ominis spoke, rather sternly, frowning at you. ”So am I.” you countered quickly as you looked up at him. Ominis sighed heavily again, shaking his head as his hands returned to massage his eyebrows.”Lords.” he muttered quietly. ”Ominis?” you spoke softly. He sighed again. ”Hm?” he hummed where he stood. You could see the conflict escalate within him with each second and just as you were about to open your mouth Ominis spoke again. ”You’re telling me you want to stay?” he asked, sounding almost a little perplexed. You looked at him and his frowning dark eyebrows. ”Ye-” you began only to be interrupted by Ominis’ hands reaching out to you, pulling you upwards where you sat on his bed, his lips crashing against yours. You whimpered at the harsh impact before you could even realise what was happening. As Ominis’ hands held onto your face, you closed your eyes, melting beneath his hands as he pressed his lips closely against yours. 

You unraveled as your lips and tongues melted into a hot flood of pure greed. Ominis sighed against your lips, groaning frustratedly, still fighting within his own head. As his hands clasped onto you, tugging at his own shirt to pull you closer, swirling his hands up and down your body, gracing up your bare legs, your waist, into your hair — it felt as if something untangled itself within you, sending a wave of bliss throughout your veins until your toes curled against the cotton beneath you. Ominis groaned more loudly against you as his hands tried to pull you even  closer. The sweet, dusky and intoxicating smell of him coursed through your head and lungs, making you feel utterly inebriated. His wet lips and tongue moved effortlessly with yours, burning you hotter with each second — dragging you closer into him.

Suddenly it felt as if someone blasted you with glacius as Ominis pulled away, quickly, stepping a few feet back. He heaved from the rush of adrenalin and endorphins, which also swirled inside of you. You looked at his flushed pale face, completely bewildered. Ominis shook his head. ”Omi-” you panted, but before you could even finish, he cut you off. ”We shouldn't.” he spoke. ”Ominis.” you spoke, laughing a little deliriously, befuddled to the rollercoaster of emotions you found yourself strapped onto. ”I’m not go-” you started before being cut off again. ”You should rest.” he repeated, leaving no wiggle-room, before he quickly turned on his feet, making his way towards the doors. You sat as frozen on the duvet, chest heaving, lips burning, legs melting into his bed, as you watched the lean back of him swiftly make his way out of the room before the door shut behind him with a bang, making you flinch.

After the door shut you just sat there, frozen in time. The afternoon sun had managed to settle, and it was getting darker with each minute. You pondered if you should have gone after him when he left, but you felt stuck to the bed. Eventually you fell backwards onto your back, sighing heavily, and as you looked up towards the ceiling you were met by piercing white eyes. The serpent was back and this time it was looking straight at you. ”Now you show…” you whispered. ”-and don’t look at me like that.” you spoke to the serpent, or perhaps yourself. The snake merely hissed quietly. You knew what it was thinking — since you were thinking the same thing: You can’t stay in this room forever. Slowly you sat up on the bed again before sliding off the edge. Your naked feet reached the soft rug beneath you. You were only wearing an oversized sweater and you had left your bag in Ominis’ office, in which you had some spare clothing with you. ”Brilliant…” you muttered while looking around the room. You could hear the snake hiss again, and looking up you saw it slither to the other side of the room as it grew smaller, swirling down the ceiling onto a painting on the wall — and to your surprise, the painting gently swung open. You felt a little hesitant, but seeing there was little to no other way forward, you made your way across the room. As you approached the painting you opened it a little further only to see a pair of white, silk pants and a matching pair of cashmere socks.  ”Huh…” you huffed out, narrowing your eyes. A little reluctantly, you reached towards them and pulled them out. You looked at them before you looked up towards the ceiling. The serpent wasn’t there anymore. ”Very convenient…” you mumbled before stepping into the soft fabric that swayed around your legs as you pulled on the toasty socks. You sighed to yourself as you looked towards the black door leading out into the unknown. 

The corridors were barely lit, only a few solitary candles fought bravely against the dark and the many heirlooms along the walls casted shadows that loomed closer as you walked past. Pulling Ominis’ shirt closer around you, you wandered the massive labyrinth — unsure which directions was right. It reminded you a lot of your old school: the grand corridors, the paintings… the aura of never really knowing if anything was as it seemed. ”Ominis?” you spoke meekly into the gloomy space around you. Your voice came out as a mere whisper. Suddenly you saw a shadow as a couple of candelabras lit up beside you. Your spleen jumped into your throat as you gasped. The shadow turned into your own spooked reflection peering back at you in the large mirror that had appeared between the candlelight that swayed gently, filling the dark space with a soft, warm shimmer. You had plenty of bold excursions in your artillery: you’ve fought trolls, goblins, inferi… you had crawled in caves filled with acromentula, fought dark wizards… but walking alone in Ominis’ manor, knowing he and Sebastian were somewhere around the corner, ate at your brain and crawled up your spine. You breathed in slowly, placing a hand on your beating chest. ”What am I doing…” you muttered quietly to yourself before sighing and to your surprise someone answered you. ”My thoughts exactly…” a low voice spoke from somewhere behind you. 

You turned on your heels, catching your breath in your throat once again. From out of the darkness, Sebastian’s tall shadow stepped into the candlelight. There was something unnerving in the way his eyes glistened beneath his dark locks. ”Well… fancy seeing you here.” he spoke with a tone of pure disingenuousness, mocking your earlier encounter. He looked drenched in spite and the way his lips crooked themselves made it feel as if he’d eat you up. You huffed at his scorned self. ”Hopeless.” you muttered beneath your breath. He sneered at you, crowing quietly. ”Oh, hush now… You shouldn’t say such things about yourself. There’s still some hope, even for the likes of you.” he spoke leisurely. You scoffed at him, shaking your head. ”You’re incorrigible… You haven’t changed a bit.” you spoke through gritted teeth. "And you have? No..." he laughed at you, raising his eyebrows mockingly. ”Then why should I?” he spoke, rhetorically. ”I’m not the one deserting the people around me.” he added as his eyes bit down on you. ”Still playing the martyr, are we...” you mumbled, not breaking eye-contact, because it was always a game with Sebastian. ”Coming from someone who’s done what you have done, Sebastian…” you spoke, still not breaking eye contact. ”-that’s rich.” you finished. ”I’m no saint…” he spoke quickly, raising his eyebrows, and before he could continue you spoke again. ”That you certainly are not.” you spat, making him grin sinisterly. ”Well, at least I'm not pretending to be..." he mused slyly. "And since you know me so very well... then what am I?” he spoke quickly, taking a small step forward. ”The devil himself perhaps – wouldn’t surprise me.” you muttered. ”Do I look like the devil?” he countered quickly, almost whispering as the grin grew toothier, larger, more crooked. You looked at his dark eyes that glistened in the soft light. "And you'd do well to remember that birds of a feather, y/n..." he almost sang, quietly. Your name dripped slowly from his tongue, sending a shiver down your neck, spine, legs.

”What do you want?” you spoke, frustrated at him — lacking the energy to play along in his ploy, but his hunger was infectious, and it had started to spread across the floor to where you stood, biting at you. He raised his eyebrows in feigned innocence. ”Me?” he spoke, clasping his hands on his chest. ”I’m trying to figure out the exact same thing as you, darling…” he spoke slyly, yet sternly. ”-and that is: what do you want?” he finished, putting an incredibly heavy emphasis on you. You huffed at him, huffing out a laugh a little hysterically. You nodded, mostly to yourself. ”Seems as if everyone is…” you muttered. ”-and I’m trying to tell you— both of you.” you spoke, looking back at him. ”But all you two do is- is pick at my brains, toy with me, and kiss me…” you spoke, waving your hands at him. ”-and then run away with your tails between your legs.” you finished, raising your pitch slightly. You could see Sebastian slyness falter a little, and for the first time, so did his gaze. ”I’m trying to- or, at least I’d like to have a proper talk… if you’d even like…” you continued, as if asking him. ”-about all of this.” you added, waving your hands again. ”I’m trying to figure it all out too, you know.” you confessed, looking at him. For a short moment you saw the softness in his eyes again, as if he remembered that you were his best friend, not his enemy. ”And I’m not the one running this time.” you finished, still looking at him. His dark eyes peered at you. There was a certain uncertainty there. ”I understand if you both need time…” you spoke, softly. ”-and if that is what you need, I’ll give you it.” you continued. ”If you want me to go altogether…” you mumbled, more quietly, looking down at your feet. ”-if it’s too difficult to have me here… then- then I’ll leave.” you continued. His eyebrows contracted a little above his eyes as they grew softer with each word you spoke. ”If you don’t want me here… I understand if I’ve lost that right… just say it-” you spoke gently, words flowing across the air between you. ”-and I’ll be out of your hair.” you finished with a weak smile.

Sebastian’s eyebrows faltered as he sighed softly, shaking his head as his smug facade crumbled at your sincerity — as it always did. He took a few steps forward, narrowing the space in between you until his feet almost touched yours. You peered up at him and his eyes burning in the lights from the candles. He looked towards your hand resting at your hip before he gently grabbed onto it, sending a warm flood through your body. He swirled his fingers between yours as his thumb drew circles on the back of your hand. ”I like you in my hair.” he spoke softly, still looking at your hand while you looked at the freckles dancing across the bridge of his nose. You watched him close his eyes, shaking his head again as a sigh left him. ”I don’t think I’d allow you to leave again, honestly.” he added. You felt a knot within you start to disintegrate. ”Then why are you behaving like a git?” you spoke sincerely, yet teasing him a little at the same time. A soft grin grew on his lips before he looked at you. ”Born trait, I’m afraid…” he managed to quietly tease back. ”-and perhaps, I’m a little unsure how to behave around you.” he added. The tension between you was tangible and it felt as if it pushed down on your chest, making it ten times as hard to breathe. Both of you just stood looking at each other as the corridor fell completely silent around you. ”Seemingly, so is Ominis… I did hear he kissed you too.” he spoke. ”Seems you've hexed us, haven't you…” he added, looking down at your hand in his. ”-you witch.” he finished, as a grin tugged at the corner of his lips while he gazed straight at you, making your heart leap. ”Only because you let me.” you managed to whisper into the narrow space between you. ”I suppose so.” Sebastian spoke quietly before he leaned down, erasing the space completely. 

His lips were warm and he must have drunk something with cinnamon and honey in it, because it lingered on his tongue. He leaned down even further as he dragged you closer with his free hand while pulling your hand in his up to his face. You swooned at his sudden softness. Gentle whimpers left your lips as his hands softly graced you above the thin fabric of Ominis’ shirt and the silk pants. You dragged Sebastian down further, wanting him closer, making him grin against your lips before he continued the kiss. It felt as if you drunk the sweetest and thickest of sherries that coursed through your veins, making you light headed. Sebastian’s hands  followed every curve of your body, slowly moving up and down, softly tightening his grip every now and then — on your ass, hip, waist, breasts and neck. With one swift move he pulled you up from the floor to his waist, making you wrap yourself around him without breaking the kiss that deepened with each minute that passed. He took a few steps forward until your lower back hit against a narrow table against the wall on which Sebastian sat you down before he pressed himself forcefully against you, pushin you tightly between him and the patterned tapestry behind you, making you bend you head backwards as much as you could, wailing ever so softly at the warm feeling of him pressing hardly against you. His lips moved across your chin, down to your neck, where he placed traces, biting lightly, gracing his nose against your ear as he continued to erase the borders between you, closer and closer. He hummed against your neck, breathing you in before he continued to move his lips down your neck, leaving wet, warm and heavy patches all over you. Your entire body felt as if it tingled with each kiss of his, releasing a new wave of butterflies with every touch. He pulled up the oversized sweatshirt and slowed down, backing away a little. His hand softly touched your fresh scar, making you flinch a little at the feeling. ”Are you ok?” he asked, panting a little. You nodded. ”Yea’.” you mumbled. ”I’m fine — I promise.” you added. Sebastian’s eyebrows curved a little, looking up at you. ”Are you sure?” he spoke, his voice much coarser than before. You nodded again before sighing. ”As long as you don’t pierce right through me — I’ll be fine.” you spoke. You saw a sly smile grow on his lips. ”Well…” he started, a boyish grin spreading on his face. ”Lords…” you blurted before hitting his arm playfully. ”Really mature, Sallow.” you added, shaking your head. Sebastian chuckled softly before a gentle smile replaced his grin. ”Well, you know me.” he added, his eyes glinting through his dark lashes.

The fervor in which you had clung onto him, the way your lips hungered for his even if they were on yours made it dawn on you how incredibly much you’d missed him — them. Sebastian pulled you into another thought-melting kiss, sending shivers down your spine until the tingles reached your toes, making them curl, and your fingers dig into his skin. You grabbed ahold of Sebastian’s shirt and pulled him closer against you. Soft and almost pained groans left your lips into each other’s mouth — and you both swallowed them, devouring every little piece of one another. The swelter of your humid tongues swirling addictively against each other pulled you close to pearly gates. His teeth nibble at you at every chance he got, dragging them against your scorched skin. You could feel your heart beat heavily within your chest as your legs grew weaker and weaker — shaking slightly as Sebastian kept pressing himself against you, pushing you against the wall. Having his rough hands roam your body, gently tugging at your hair, hip, breasts, ass, all of you…made you melt onto the table. You grasped onto his locks, pulling at its ends, making him groan, and the sound of him reverberated through you. You felt yourself squirm where you sat, growing tense as a strained thread and wet as a puddle at the same time. The musky and citrusy smell of him left you soaked with longing and you keened as you couldn’t get him close enough, quickly enough, making Sebastian hum against your lips. You felt him press himself against you even harder and, growing impatient, you reached down to the fabric of his pants, pressing your hand against him. Sebastian paused his kiss as his head fell forward against yours, sighing heavily, he collapsed a little against you — you laughed faintly as you felt the outlines of him, rubbing your hand slowly on top of the fabric separating you from him. You moved up and down his shaft, making Sebastian breathe to the rhythm of your movements as he pressed his hard cock against your hand. You swooned at the feeling of him — and so did he. You moved down your other hand to the hem of his trousers, fumbling a little before you found the button.

Very, incredibly, and oh-so reluctantly, Sebastian took a quick step back — his hair in a disarray — making you frown deeply. He pulled his lips into a thin smile before he chuckled at you sulking in front of him. His lips curled at your displeased and disheveled self. You reached out towards him only to have him dodge your hand by taking another step backwards. ”If you run away again — I…” you started, looking at him with your cheeks flushed red where you sat on the table, feet dangling in the air. Sebastian chuckled quietly again before he interrupted you. ”I won’t…” he spoke. ”-but, if we’re going to do this…” he continued, looking at you. ”-there’s someone else that should be here with us.” he added. ”At least this time.” he finished quietly with a crooked grin. You felt your cheeks burn even hotter and you thought you’d disintegrate entirely even at the mere thought of it. ”Oh.” you spoke at a loss of words. ”If you want… of course.” he added with a low voice as he stepped closer to you again, placing a hand on your knee, slowly and softly dragging his fingers up your inner thigh, making you close your eyes and lean back against the wall. Sighing heavily, you could feel your heart beat in your head as you looked up into his eyes that glistened pitch black. You stared at him as his fingers graced upwards, slowly.”Hm?” he hummed. You managed to nod. He looked down at you with something rather sinister behind his eyes. ”Look at you…” he crowed, breathing you into him as he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours. ”-so shy and quiet all of a sudden.” he spoke with a low voice before placing the faintest of kisses on your lips, pulling you back with him as he pulled away as quickly, leaving you gasping after him. He took a few steps back again, making you sigh and him grin. He hummed in front of you as he soaked in the sight of your tangled self. ”Tell you what…” he spoke. ”-you saunter back to Ominis’ bedroom…” he added, placing his hands within his pockets. ”-and we’ll be right there with you.” he finished before that crooked smile reappeared on his lips, he quickly raised his eyebrows at you before he walked into the gloomy corridor only to vanish into its shadows in the blink of an eye. 

You could hear your heart slam against your ribs as you sat still on the table, merely looking across the corridor and the stone wall facing you. It all slowly dawned on you, forcing out a breath of a chuckle from your throat. ”Merlin.” you mumbled to yourself before it actually dawned on you. ”Merlin.” you gulped, slowly dragging your feet down to the ground as you stood up. You looked towards the other side of the dark corridor. It felt as if your knees would cave beneath you, dragging you down into the manor only to become one with its floors and walls. Sebastian’s musk lingered on and around you, and the bare skin where his lips had been only seconds ago burned cold. You could feel yourself seep onto the white silk. ”Merlin.” you whispered.

[ingravinoveritas]

irvinis replied to your post “Thinking about the photo from tonight, i almost…”

@ingravinoveritas this may be fanon (canon created by fans), but it fits so well into the daddy/boy dynamic. Michael comes to David's performances with his doors wide open, wearing his best sweater (or baring his arms) and giving a standing ovation: THIS IS MY BOY! And David makes his way to Michael’s performances, wrapped in a scarf up to his eyebrows and sighs quietly in delight from an inconspicuous place in the corner.

@irvinis Ohh...this is tickling a very specific part of my brain. Oh, I love this. In the past I didn't usually go for the daddy/boy dynamic with Michael and David (because I've always seen their relationship as one of equals/switches), but this absolutely fits them like a freaking glove.

We have the picture Georgia posted of David all wrapped up exactly like that, so right away that gives us a visual:

And what you've described goes perfectly with what we saw when Michael went to see Macbeth in December--that white-bright moment of Michael gazing up at David from the audience, and David looking right back at him, captured forever on film and in our hearts. That, in contrast with last night, with David quietly going to the show and doing everything to keep the focus on Michael. David waiting until the lights have dimmed and all eyes are on the stage to let out that little sigh, feeling a shiver of unrestrained happiness work its way through his body as he watches, enraptured, as Michael does the thing he does best.

It's also interesting how this potentially ties into Michael not doing the matinee today. I know we could say it's because he's still recovering from being sick (and that would certainly make sense), but I love the thought that Michael sat out so many performances earlier in the week to make sure he had his strength specifically for last night's performance, because he knew David was coming and wanted to do a good job for him.

I could also see David going to Michael's dressing room after (with thanks to @greeneyed-thestral for planting the seed of that lovely idea) and seeing Michael all enthralled with a post-show high from performing, yet still anxious about how things went--worrying if he was on key for the musical number, if he missed any cues. I can see David slowly backing Michael into the mirror without a word, until the lights frame Michael like a halo. He takes off his ball cap and unravels his scarf in an elegant heap on the dresser, revealing himself, both of them now bare and vulnerable. David grasps either side of Michael's face in his hands, thumb tracing over the crow's feet at the side of Michael's eyes, and smiles softly. He kisses Michael, mouths opening just slightly as the kiss deepens and their tongues meet. Kisses him long enough to quiet Michael's mind, to get the overthinking voice inside to stop.

He is quiet, this David. Always making himself smaller to fit in rooms within rooms, hiding away, keeping the peace. Until Michael. Michael, who somehow had the key to every door. Something in David expands, becomes louder, growing to more than his slender frame could seem to handle, and he pours it into that kiss. A mark of this moment, of Michael bathed in light, of the two of them together and David silently saying, we are here. We are together and I am going to take care of you now.

Oh, yes...I could certainly see that happening. Thank you so much for this delicious prompt on a Saturday morning...

[coffe-and-tea-time]

KEEP PRETENDING TO SLEEP! KEEP PRETENDING TO SLEEP!!!

HEHEHEHEHEHE I WAS WAITING TO COOK THIS

Coffee insanely speaking! Thanks Dear, you gimme the perfect excuse to write a second part just in time although I expected the option of talking to him to come first. Not that I'm complaining lol

Post where this suggestion came from

↪︎ ☾ I love to see you ....................................... .......................................☆ I love to hear you↩︎

TW: yandere behavior, delusions, murder of self-preservation, stalking, obssesion, somewhat willing reader, kinda denying of bad decisions

Of course, the best option is to stay still, not because you are enjoying this no no, of course not...

Despite his soft voice that sounds rather familiar, you can't really recall who or where. So the safest option is just giving in at the moment, you didn't know how he could react so the safer the better, isn't it?

A smile starts creeping on your face against your will, seems like you are a rather bad actor when it's required, huh? 

“Oh, I'm really glad, you seem like you're finally having a good dream… will it be too greedy if I want to be inside that little dream of yours? Well, if you find that greedy, you won't be able to handle me later”

Hearing a close mouthed giggle following the whisper makes your heart flutter softly, like this is some kind of really romantic scene in his mind. You were able to hear the faint sound of footsteps, he seems like he's doing a little room tour, making it a little hard to hear him.

“Oh Dear, you were researching that thing again?”

It seems like he found his way into your phone, what was he referring to?

“Why do you keep reading so much about romance? Are these words good enough to keep your focus?... Maybe I have to start practicing oral expression? It's been a while since I felt like that, last time was when you downloaded that stupid dating sim… This is truly irritating, the names they use, the way they ‘communicate’ to you; do no justice, I can express myself way better, my love, and how my eyes change when I see you walking by… just... please, I need only one chance, and I promise you won't have a room left for doubts”

Even though he made the effort to lower his voice in order to 'not wake you up', it's clear how his tone is changing with every word depending on the topic; First, a low hint of infatuation, then, what sounds closer to a plead and, finally,...was that...hopelessness?

Honestly, in a normal situation, you would be annoyed by someone searching through your phone but only an idiot would think this man would judge you even if you had pictures of dead people there, more like he's genuinely looking for more of you, despite the fact that it's really not the ‘proper’ way, you can't say it didn't work.

“My beloved Cherry, what can i do for you to talk to me? Those characters seem to steal your attention quickly… I would be lying if I sad I'm not a little hopeful because of them though, you seem to have quite the specific taste, Cherry, and I believe I fit perfectly on them... if only I could find the right moment to get into your routine, to be part of your life…”

Weird that he worries about getting to talk to you with an ideal scene but not worrying about stalking you, but maybe it's kind of understable? Since well, everyone likes to check on their crush on social media even if they take a while to actually talk, even if this guy took it a little too far, he sounds... harmless like his wish is just to win your affection…

wait a second…

Are you truly relaxed in this kind of situation? What is going on with you? Why? Why… well, can't say you didn't ask for this, even as a joke, you know this time is different because it's real, but… why does reality feel like a fantasy right now? Is it because of him?

“Huh, I come here as a routine by now, I still get the same queries, I’m dying to find the answers soon..”

Sensing that lightly sweet fragrance once more makes you know he’s approaching your ‘sleeping’ form once again, making it easy to hear him despite his constant whispering.

“Would you let me cuddle you? Would you let me kiss you? Would you mind if I were clingy? Would you mind if I get jealous? Would you mind if it seems like I already know more about you than I should? I want to hold you my dear, I can’t wait for the day I can just snuggle with you every time we want… I really can’t wait anymore, I need to be closer to you… I guess I have no option other than to talk to you out of the blue, I dislike to be so imprudent, but I promise I will make up for it once you accept me in your life, Love”

You feel a gentle hand slightly caress your cheek as a little peck is placed on your forehead, making you almost smile like a fool if it weren’t for the fact that pretending to sleep is your priority in this sweet moment, unexpected but called for moment.

“Sweet dreams Cherry, I have to prepare what I should say tomorrow, I will put all of my efforts to be my best self to make a good first impression, I hope I snatch enough of your interest to be on your mind even for a moment”

Oh, he is definitely gonna be stuck in your mind for a while, as you try your best to focus on the sounds, you catch his steps as he seems to walk away… but you keep up with your act just in case.

So, tomorrow, huh? Seems like once again you have important decisions in your hand, should you indulge in your fantasy and let him get near you? It also sounds fun to go to him first… But, maybe you should try to avoid him? It’s the safer choice, but do you really want that? He seems safe enough not to raise any of your flags, he seemed so caring for you…

sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣

images from pinterest

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 4

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, alcohol, sexually charged conversations and situations, minor kinks slightly explored. Happy (early) Birthday @d33pd3sire-blog !! I hope you have a wonderful day!🩵🩵 (thank you for the kofi)

Emily was blessed with gorgeous weather when she woke up the following Friday, the sun cascading though the sky, flooding the city with the perfect warmth that would last through until the evening. She was pleasantly surprised that she was feeling considerably less nervous about tonight than she had been about your original meeting. Not that she had any better idea what she was doing or about to get herself into, but that she knew you were going to be a much better match. On top of finding you physically attractive she also enjoyed spending the evening with you, the conversation had flowed smoothly, you were smart, quick witted and there was an underlying hint of sexuality that you’d kept just beneath the first layer, ready to reveal once the discussion had finally shifted in that direction. And that was one she was more than eager to explore.

She made sure to arrive at the Conrad with more than enough time to spare, checking in and dropping off whatever she didn’t need in the suite before heading back down to the Summit. The rooftop lounge had an extensive cocktail menu, delectable food offerings and incredible views of downtown D.C. and The Capitol. She grabbed a table and ordered a glass of wine while she waited, looking through all the options on their menu.

The sound of your infectious laugh was what pulled her attention upwards a few minutes later, looking up to find you chatting with the hostess, gesturing in the direction of her table. You had a simple yet gorgeous plum cocktail dress on, the top dipping down to show more cleavage than the last time she’d seen you, the bodice nicely fitted while the skirt flared out. Your hair was loose, curled nicely and your makeup darker, more seductive as you gave her a little wave with a grin before walking over to the table.

“Hope I wasn’t keeping you.” You smiled.

“No, not at all.” She stood from the table, giving you the opportunity to take in her full outfit, form fitting dress pants and a gorgeous red blouse that showed off the curve of her chest perfectly. Her hand landed on your elbow as the two of you leant in, kissing cheeks before you slid into the other chair.

“How was the week?” You asked, picking up the cocktail menu to look through.

“Surprisingly good.” Emily replied, nearly confusing herself at the realization, “got a few of our snags figured out and the pile of papers in my inbox is finally smaller than the outbox.”

“Sounds like you need an assistant.” You teased from across the table, and she huffed a laugh.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think the bureau would like it too much if my signature was forged on everything.”

“Well at least you managed to catch a break.” You offered and she nodded.

By the time the server came by the two of you had managed to shake off any early jitters, slipping into an easy rhythm of conversation. You got a glass of sangria and Emily ordered the cheese and charcuterie plates, tempura shrimp, and scallops to share.

“So, I know you’ve been all over,” you started, taking a sip of your drink, “why choose D.C. to settle?”

“It’s a long story.” She chuckled, “but there were people I wanted to be close to, a few things to keep an eye on here. Just so happened to be close to Quantico.”

“Were you always interested in some form of law enforcement?”

“It was more about helping people, learning how to fully understand the whole psychology of it, why they do what they do. I was always interested in more than just chasing down the bad guys.”

“I’m curious then… why return to the BAU from Interpol?” You asked and Emily’s head titled.

“You know about Interpol?”

“You’re not the only one who knows how to run a background check.” You chuckled, “you may be the fed, but I still like to vet who I spend my personal time with, especially behind closed doors.”

“You’re smart.” She smiled, “I like that.”

“So?” You raised a brow, “what made Washington so much more appealing than London?”

“I missed it. That team had been my family for years and I wanted to come back to them. I knew there was a potential offer hiding in the wings that wouldn’t demote me in a sense and I wanted to help out an old friend. He only trusted me with the job, and I didn’t want the team to fall into jurisdiction of someone who wouldn’t do it justice or only wanted to disband them.”

“How’d you like Unit Chief compared to now?”

“Honestly I think I prefer it.” She laughed, “though I wouldn’t dream of stepping back down into it for the same reasons I took it in the first place.”

“Last thing you want is Bailey directly in charge of your team.” You grinned and she rolled her eyes.

“He’s got his claws deep enough in already.” She groaned.

“Too many politics involved with Section Chief I assume?” You raised a brow and she nodded, a look of near melancholy in her eyes as she switched her gaze to look out on the horizon. “You miss being out in the field, don’t you?”

“Paperwork is menial. And tedious. And so much of it seems entirely fucking pointless. When we were all mainly working from home still, it at least kept me occupied, tied to the job, like I still had a purpose. But now we’re back in the office, my team gets to run off into the face of danger and I’m stuck with the pencil pushers attending meetings that are entirely redundant. The only time I end up opening my mouth is to remind them the BAU is an integral part of the bureau, and they shouldn’t shut it down.”

“Sounds like it’s definitely about time you have yourself some fun.” You rested your chin on the back of your hand, a smirk on your lips and Emily chuckled. When she looked up at you, you could see her eyes darkening just the slightest.

“I suppose it is.”

You were interrupted before things could move further, plates of food now scattered across the table that you were both picking through, loading up your own side plates to get a little bit of everything.

“You mentioned UCONN last time.” Emily started, taking a sip of her refilled wine, “are you from Connecticut or did you just go to school there?”

“Born and raised, figured I may as well take advantage of a rent free college experience while I could.”

“Did you know Heather back then or was it just sheer coincidence?”

“Our parents ran in the same circles.” You replied with a huff, taking a bite of food and you noticed the very brief change of expression on Emily’s face before she managed to conceal it and you laughed. “Before you ask, no I’m not drowning in wealth. The Dunbar’s come from very old money and they’ve always been smart about it, they know how to invest, how to make money into even more money. I’ve never been able to understand it.”

“I assume your parents didn’t either?” She asked and you practically snorted.

“Not in the least. They liked to pretend they knew wealth, shove their way into all the fancy places and while the façade was enough to win over most people, it all came from an inheritance my mother got. Could have been worth something if my father wasn’t blowing it all away on fast cars while mother spent all of her days at the casino chain smoking, binge drinking and consistently losing.” You sighed, taking a large sip of wine, “I’m lucky there was enough left for my college education.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You shrugged, “the discrepancies between our bank accounts doesn’t mean the Dunbar’s were better parents or anything.”

“Oh, I’ve heard.” Emily chuckled.

“What about you? Good relationship with your parents?”

“It’s… complicated.”

“So, no?” You laughed, pulling one from her.

“Mother travels a lot for work, she isn’t based here. We tried to kinda work through things when I was younger but between our careers it just never happened, and I’m fine with that. Spares me the lecture about still not being married or giving her grand kids.”

You let out a louder laugh, “why does it seem that that’s any mom’s only concern with their kid’s lives? There’s more than one way to succeed and be happy and in my opinion that’s all that really matters.”

“Exactly.” Emily smiled across at you, “there’s so much more to be concerned about.”

“Mmm!” You suddenly changed gears as you took your first bite of a scallop, “these are incredible.”

“You haven’t had them?” She raised a brow, “I assumed you’ve been here before.”

“Yeah, Conrad’s a pretty high choice of stay for any visiting politician but I’ve only ever had time for drinks. Try them.” You urged, breaking off another piece on your fork and holding it up to her, your other hand cupped underneath it so it wouldn’t drip on the table. She barely hesitated, lips wrapping around the fork as you gently pulled it out of her mouth, not even blinking before scooping up the last bite into your own mouth on the same utensil.

“Oh my god.” She mumbled over the food, “you weren’t kidding.”

“You’ll learn to trust my suggestions sooner or later, I’m sure of it.” You grinned at her across the table.

“I have no doubt, you wouldn’t guide me astray, now would you?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” You smirked across the table at her, and Emily felt a tingle shoot through her body.

A few minutes later the server came by to clear the dinner plates and offer a dessert menu that you turned down, feigning to the server that you’d had enough, and Emily asked for the cheque.

“Not a sweets fan?” She asked, polishing off her wine and you chuckled over the rim of your glass.

“I prefer to get my sugar a different way.”

“So you are interested in moving this upstairs?”

“Well, I sure hope so. I was bargaining on more than just dinner tonight.” Your lips turned upwards in a sly smile that Emily returned, slipping her credit card back into her wallet.

She guided you up to the ninth floor, letting you into the suite first. A small entry way opened up on the left into a large studio space, a breakfast bar splitting up the counter where the microwave and fridge were and the sitting area. A circular table with two chairs, a small sectional that faced the television and a thin divider that hid the bedroom space, the bathroom connected to that.

“Help yourself.” Emily gestured toward the bottle of wine on the breakfast bar, and you wasted no time in pulling down two glasses from a cupboard to fill up. Sliding one across the counter to her you settled in on a stool, unsurprised when she returned with a file folder in hand. “To be completely honest, I’m not even really sure how to do this part.” She let out a slightly awkward laugh and you hummed.

“Don’t overcomplicate it. Think of it as a business transaction with a little bit of negotiation.”

“I guess that’s actually a good place to start.” She took a sip of wine, “I think the first step should be letting you know that this is exactly that, a business transaction. It’s casual, and I don’t want you to think of it as an exclusive relationship. I’m busy, we’re both busy, if you happen to see someone else that’s more than okay as long as everything is done safely.”

“Understood.” You slipped a sheet of paper from your purse, sliding it across to her before resting your chin on the back of your hand. “I figured you’d want a clean bill of health.”

“Thank you.” She tucked it into the back of the folder, “I guess money would be the next step?”

“I’ll save you the headache.” You snagged the agreement from her, eyes scanning the page until you found the blank lines to be filled in about allowance and picked up a pen. “I’m also giving you one hell of a deal, considering I don’t need to do this for money my rates are extremely low.”

“Noted.” She laughed.

“Considering our schedules I’m going to veto the allowance and say we just do a price per date, there’s likely weeks we’re not going to see each other, and I want things to be fair. One hundred for casual dinner and drinks or something of the equal amount of time that’s simply companionship.” You began to scraw notes out on the agreement, “two hundred for a date night and sex. Three for anything longer than a standard date and if you drag me to any of those horrendous FBI galas, I’m tacking on another hundred.”

She barked out a laugh, “more than understandable.”

“I expect you to pick up the tabs most nights, but if there ever is a day that I plan or invite you out onto, don’t feel obligated. Then treats and gifts are obviously welcomed and encouraged but that is up to your discretion, think of them as rewards.”

“And you’re sure about those rates?”

“Considering the costs hotel rooms like this will run you? Absolutely.” You laughed softly.

“Do you have preferences when it comes to gifts?” She asked and you scrunched your nose.

“Not particularly? Gift cards and cash obviously work, I could use a few new pairs of shoes, a dress or two, jewelry’s always nice, standard date type gifts. Could definitely use some new lingerie sets, and I mean…” you glanced over to her, that sly smile back on your cheeks, “new toys are always fun.”

“I do not disagree with you there.” She grinned back, “so let’s talk sex.”

“I am curious, is this about you needing to get off, relieve some of that stress and relax for once, or will you be the one fucking me into next week.”

“Christ.” Emily muttered, the tingling in her body moving lower, surveying you with a gleam in her eye. “I was thinking a mutual benefit but to be blunt I’m the one wearing the strap more often than not and I have no qualms with fucking you into next month.”

It was your turn to feel the fire prickling under your skin, heading south as you tried not to shift too obviously in your chair, “a confident woman with a cock? I love it.”

“You won’t be disappointed.” She assured you and you huffed a small laugh.

“I’m sure I won’t.” You took another sip of wine, “so let’s talk kinks. I’ll tell you right now the hard off the table ones are piss play, scat play, major pet play, age play, I’m not really into anything involving food in the bedroom and please nothing involving feet.”

“You can count yourself safe from all of that.” Emily laughed, pulling a warm smile from you, “I personally don’t like being restrained or blindfolded, but I have no issues tying you up.”

“As long as you’re not using work issued cuffs.” You noted.

“Do I dare ask?” She raised a brow in your direction.

“I dated a local cop in college, those things hurt.”

“Oh, I know.” She laughed back, “I’m partial to silk ties, it’s nice to keep things pretty.”

“Agreed.” You smiled at her before glancing back down at the agreement, flipping through the pages and she watched as your brow furrowed.

“What?”

“There’s nothing in here about how to address you.” You looked back up at her.

“I thought we went over that last week.” She laughed, “just Emily is fine.”

“No ma’am?” You asked and she was very quick to shut you down.

“God, please no.”

“Most women like the title mistress, or mommy.”

“Oh…” Emily’s nose scrunched, “I guess I hadn’t thought about that….”

“I mean some do go with daddy if you’re more inclined.”

“Is that like, an all the time thing? Or just in the bedroom?”

“Could be either. I’ve heard of relationships where it’s constant and I do find that over the top but every once in a while in bed, it’s kinda hot. I mean after all, one really just wants to be a good girl for mommy.”

Emily paused, letting your words sink in for a moment as she tried to figure out how she felt about the whole thing, especially considering she was about to be your sugar mommy.  “Let’s… bookmark it for later.” She looked up at you, catching a small nod but it was the wicked smirk on your face that caught her attention first, “what?”

“Nothing.” You shook your head, “I’m just not that surprised you might be intrigued. I heard you had quite the fun time entertaining Benjamin Reeves last month.”

“Oh god…” Muttering, she dropped her head, running her hand over her face and you let out a playful laugh.

“Walls really do talk.” You teased, flipping through the rest of the file, “speaking of…there’s no NDA in here?”

“I didn’t think it was necessary.” She shrugged, “there’s a piece near the end saying anything involving my work that comes up in conversation isn’t to be publicly aired anywhere but that’s all I really need.”

“Well,” finding the piece you scrawled your signature under it, “you don’t have to worry about me running to the press. Your secrets are safe with me.” You flipped the papers back in order and closed the file, sliding it back across the counter to Emily before scooping up your wine glass to walk around the counter. “Now… I do believe we’re done with the boring part…”

You approached her where she sat on the stool, your wine glass coming to rest on the counter only an inch from her own as her body turned toward you. Her hand found your waist, nudging you closer to her so you could slot yourself between her legs while she leant forward, her free hand brushing your hair back from your face. You could feel her breath hot on your skin, lips parting ever so slightly as you leant in, eyes flicking from her own down to her mouth, the distance about to be closed when there was a sudden, very loud, and repetitive buzzing on the counter.

Emily groaned, her eyes falling shut as her head fell back and you let out an annoyed huff.

“I swear to god if that’s fucking Heather I’m resigning.” You reached towards your phone at the same moment she did.

“Nope, it’s me.” She opened the screen, groaning again as she read the text messages, “and I have got to go.”

“Political crap or serial killer?”

“Serial killer.” She stood from the stool, her hand squeezing your wrist while she leaned, kissing your cheek quickly.

“Go save the world.” You raised your wine glass in a salute to her as she grabbed her bag from the couch.

“Please, finish the wine, feel free to stay.”

“I’ll take the bottle home.” You replied.

“I’m sorry.”

“No need.” You assured her with a soft smile, “next time.”

“Oh. Guaranteed.” She nodded, “get home safe. I’ll text you when we’re back.”

“I look forward to it.”

With another apologetic smile she was gone from the suite, leaving you to dump the remnants of her wine glass into yours, wandering up to the window to take in the city views as you finished it.

_______________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @blackbird-brewster @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @honeyycatt @trauma-factory @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice

[elbiotipo]

How should nekomimi be inherited to not look weird?

I think that if they are simply humans with certain animalistic traits then it can be done like irl phenotypes, basically "some mixed kids inherit them, some don't" and leave it here, so there can be a community of mostly cat people with some individuals with fully human features to not make it look weird (and vice-versa, some nekomimi people amongst "normal" humans who don't belong to any of the cultures of cat people).

But what about some more complicated feline features like vision or dietary needs and such?

And even more importantly, is my idea of how to do nekomimi genetics in a fantasy setting not weird in itself?

It's NOT weird. The only thing better than catgirls are catgirls who fit in the worldbuilding.

Now, if you want a technobabble excuse, you could always use homeobox genes that you could say develop different kinds of ears, tails (biologist note: this is NOT exactly how homeobox genes work, but they do kinda work as an technobabble excuse) inside a wider, let's say, "humanoid" species or genus. These could be inherited as diverse alleles of such traits (for example, the 'ears' gene could have cat-like, dog-like, human-like, etc. alelles) and also have mendelian or non-mendelian distributions. Suppose you want to make a fantasy mendelian system, you could say "cat ears are recessive, human ears are dominant" (note: "recessive" and "dominant" don't mean "worse" and "better" it just means than an allele is "hidden" or deactivated by the dominant one. Sorry if I make a mistake, I learned all this in Spanish) and figure out inheritance from there, just traits that are cleanly inherited in regular proportions. This is not how most genetics work, however. There's multiple kinds of non-mendelian inheritance... multiple alleles, codominance, sex-linked inheritance, and of course quantitative genetics which is when alleles don't manifest in a single discrete trait but rather a continous measurable one (such as height)... now I feel I'm doing my genetics course again, but I'm sure you can tell how such things can work if you read an intro text about it.

There's a bunch of caveats here, and I'm gonna speak very broadly here. In humans, there aren't single, well defined genes that codify appearance for, for example, hair texture and color, skin/eye color, etc. in the sense that there's a "blue eye gene" or "curly hair gene". In fact this is the case for most genes, most are multi-allelic or quantitative with different 'weights' for a continous trait. Or BOTH. People tend to inherit different genetic 'weights' (very unscientific term here, sorry) from one parent or another and this can be very random, with some expressing different traits even if having the same family (this is why you see people who resemble almost perfectly to one parent instead of a "mix" of both, and of course those who indeed look like a mix of both. And these in turn have nothing to do with genetic diseases, blood types, or other inheritable things) There are hundreds of genes involved in each trait of human appearance and they all interact with each other, and most aren't even known, we don't fully know the genes that regulate skin, hair or eye color, just to give a few examples. So it's almost never stuff like "dominant purple flower, recessive white flower", Mendel was VERY lucky and smart to pick out discrete alleles to find out his laws. Most traits aren't like that at all, especially in animals.

Which brings me to my next point. It's very unlikely mendelian inheritance of traits such as ears or tails would have evolved naturally in animals. The development of characteristics such as ears or tails is deep, deep in the early embryo development, a very fragile period for animals. A species that has such huge genetic variations in such key periods of development faces severe selective pressure and it's unlikely these extreme "alleles" would remain, errors on them would cause extreme malformations or just embryos not developing at all. Even humans have this trouble, the loss of tails in apes, for example, has let us to suffer from spina bifida, every body plan change has a huge cost and this is why animals are sometimes very conservative with it, most body plans are the modification of existing features rather than the apperance or removal of different ones, and this is at evolutionary scales, not even living populations. Of course, some animals are more, let's say, plastic, like dogs, but even they have a general body plan, there aren't dogs without ears or tails, for instance. Even dogs are the consequence of tens of thousands of very intensive artificial selection which did not happen naturally at all, I mean, it's not like poodles or daschunds have any sexual or natural selection advantage for themselves, they are adventageous for us. You can see that wild and feral dogs, without the pressure of human artificial selection tend to converge into a more general dog plan (the so called "pariah dog", but also see dingos, and of course wolves, I'm skipping a lot of stuff here), adapted to local climates.

Surprisingly, I can see diet being less problematic in this sense. After all, we know there are for example human populations adapted to lactose. Dogs have also evolved enzymes to digest carbohydrates which wolves don't have, while not as nutritious as their carnivorous diet it works better with our human diet. Different bacterial flora can also help digest things that are surprising though, such as cellulose (though bacterial flora is still an underrated and ongoing field of study) It's also much easier to imagine changes in dentition than the whole head plan. So I can easily imagine different populations adapting to different diets. Same with eyes, I mean, daltonic and colorblind human population exists, the EYE is mostly the same, but it works differently. But again, the body plan remains the same. Humans or dogs might have different aptitudes for diets, but they don't stop being omnivores or carnivores.

Of course, tis' fantasy. So why expect things to follow natural evolution? Hell, why even expect fantasy people in a pre-industrial setting to know about homeobox genes? Depending on your setting, it might be that these traits are stable and inheritable because of a magical curse/blessing, or that the gods or the inherent magic of the world said so. However, if you have a species that has multiple, very different appearances and those are inheritable, you're dealing with some rather heavy stuff here that redefines your concept of humanity. In Dungeon Meshi, for instance, they talk about this, as the typical "elf, dwarf, halfling, human" fantasy races all can and do have children with each other, and (spoilers!) they seem to have a common origin, and thus all are actually called "humanity" which is a very interesting concept, because, indeed, what else are they if they don't actually have any real biological barriers. Meanwhile, the differences with other more "distant" species? races? such as orcs and kobolds (canine-like) are shown as rather arbitrary and depending on the culture, in fact, even humans (or rather "tallmen") get excluded from "humanity" in some cases. (not even tackling the whole long-short lived races thing). Similarily, you could say these "nekomimi" are just humans with a particular blessing or curse (again, in Dungeon Meshi, there is Izutsumi), but that works on the particular designs of your fantasy world and magic system... and let's say that when such concepts have appeared in real life, well... I don't need to tell you these are rather heavy and controversial topics to tackle. I don't think you should shy away from portraying them, but again, it's something to think about very carefully.

Since this is a heavy topic, I'm gonna take you out of fantasy for a sci-fi perspective. In my biopunk setting (it's on the tag "soft biopunk" on my blog) there are kemonomimi people all around, and in fact, all sort of genetic cosmetics, in fact, one of the main characters is indeed a communist catgirl. Most of it, however, is made in adults, much like getting tattoos or piercings. Tegument (i.e, skin) in humans and most vertebrates is surprisingly plastic, and one can 'grow' ears and implant them, or estimulate the production of feather or scale genes in the skin. Meanwhile, things such as tails have a little more involved surgery, since you also need to take into account nerves, muscles, circulation, etc. Meanwhile stuff such as muzzles and others require very extensive surgery, so it isn't as common. So these are implants (non inheritable) rather than expression from embryos, what geneticists would say germline modification. Such things also occurs but is done way more carefully and is more extensive, and it's nothing you would do just for the sake of cosmetics, when you're doing that, you're basically starting a new branch of humanity with all that implies. On the other hand, sentient "uplift" cats, dogs, and many other animals do exist, but they aren't animals that act like humans, they are sentient animals with a way of thinking and behavior very different to us, you aren't talking to a "cat with human intelligence", you're talking to an intelligent cat (when they want to talk, anyways). So, you can't REALLY turn a Felis catus into a catgirl, but a Homo sapiens can do a rather passable one.

Well, this has been a lot of fun to write and think about, so I hope you enjoyed it, and sorry for the walls of text! I promise to make a better post with some better illustrations of hot catgirls. In any case, if you found this useful, I would be very grateful if you gave me a tip! Given our economic situation here with Milei (the guy who cloned his dog, how appropiate), anything helps!

Feel free to ask anything you'd like!

[evolutionsvoid]

The affliction of the Grotesques has been said to perfectly symbolize this horrid age. The ugliness of war and chaos, now given flesh. If the Arrimaki are the sickness of this world, then these horrid abominations are perhaps the deformity of it. There is no wonder why the Church and its followers are so quick to exterminate these tortured souls, unable to stomach the sight of what they are and what they stand for. Sadly, the Grotesques never had a say in what they were reborn into, and they are clearly not that happy about their twisted forms either. They say their mangled rebirth is a curse, a blight upon man, yet the people refuse to acknowledge which party is truly cursed in all this. But they see monsters and slay them, with no hesitation. Their garbled cries and soggy pleas fall upon deaf ears, as the blades are brought down upon them. So if their suffering and cries will not bring them peace, then they must turn to violence. Thus the Grotesques give into madness and anger, throwing themselves against their persecutors and executioners like rabid beasts. If humanity is truly responsible for creating the Grotesques, then they too are responsible for making them the monsters they are now. 

Not all souls twisted into these Grotesques are born from humans, as it seems all walks of life are punished. Simple animals and oblivious beasts thrown into this sickening stew, and emerging as some wretched chimera of dripping flesh. No names are given to these things, no labels outside of "monstrosity" and "abomination." Even the Beast Masters are unnerved by these creatures, less from fear and more from their tortured state. They have a deeper connection with animals than they do man, and this bond shows them the pain and anguish trapped inside this failing form. Some may try to slay these creatures to bring them peace, while others seek to kill them to cease their rampage. No matter the reason, many fail. If a wounded animal is twice as fierce and deadly as any other, than imagine the power and savagery found in those who know nothing but pain, trapped in a world of cruelty. 

---------------------------------------

"Grotesque Beast"

We're pulling the strange and bizarre from all places here for the Grotesques! And once I laid my eyes upon ol' Luigi Bergomi's utterly weird creatures, they immediately felt fitting and I just had to use one. Truly some inspiring stuff!

[raphaellight]

Insane, untrue, don't know why it even came to my mind?

Sera is the one with Alastor's soul on a leash.

Here, I said it. Also reussing this frame, because her face is just 'cheff's kiss'. Although Emilie's face wouldn't be this happy hearing this one.

Had to get it out of my head, because if by the sheer miracle I get the twist of the show, I then will be able to say "GOT THEM" Here is the reasoning why I would think that:

Sera is the Machiavelistic character, without a clear boundaries not to break for a "greater good". She agreed for extermination, owning a soul isn't beyond her.

Can't tell that with certainty, but she seemed quite well informed about hell's business, in a sense that she never showed any sign of being taken a back by anything. Can be just her general personality, but take Vaggie coming to heaven with Charlie. Sera had to know she is a former exorcist, it's not rocket science, it would be perfectly reasonable to think she got informed an exorcist had been casted out. Yet she shows no sign of suprise to seeing her come with Charlie to heaven, like it's not news to her who is engaged in that project, like she has more sources of info that we know of.

She clearly mentioned "hell uprising". Extermination was one way to keep hell at bay, but it's possible she took more steps to ensure heaven safety, including espionage.

Now for Alastor:

This dude is not only one of the most powerfull beings, but also one of the most intelligent people in hell. Person above him has to be not only as powerfull as him, that person would also have to possess insane power to even have anything to offer Alastor that he couldn't possibly get himself (unless we go by my previous theory about Alastor deal, but these two don't exlude themselfes)

Right as I started listing points about Alastor, my playlist jumped to "Insane" :D

Alastor is weirdly protective over identity of his owner. Of course it's a reputation thing, he doesn't want his enemies knowing he can't control himself, but even to himself, he never says who he owns his soul to. Maybe part of the deal is that noone is suppose to know, because that someone doesn't want to be known for owning Alastor (which, let's be real, if anyone in hell owned Alastor, that person would spend all his time flexing that fact, I know I would).

Whoever owns Alastor is clearly letting him preety louse. As far as we know, the only thing the deal does, it makes Alastor weaker (unable to enter his full power), which would be weird for demon, but in character for an angel that wants someone on inside for specific tasks, not full time servant

Alastor immidietly upon arrival took down powerfull overlords. It's been played as him being crazy, but what if it was to break hell's power and create power vaccum to cause chaos.

Just when hell is emptied of most overlords, Alastor dissappears, then returns when it is once again under control of semi-fincional goverment of overlords (and right as angel dies in the extermination day)

Zestiel alluded that Alastor fell into "heavenly hands". Maybe someone saw Alastor dissappearing into angel's portal and this created the rumor.

I won't really defend this idea, I know we have to little information for any definitive answer. We have at least two seasons to go and I don't even think next one will be the one to resolve who owns Alastor soul. But please, let me know, if I'm crazy, or IS this just as weirdly fitting both all plotlines we know so far and character we encountered so far as it seems to me. Follow for more crazy posts like this one.

[hart269]

Slithering Hearts

Chapter 5

Pairing : Regulus Black x Fem! Reader

Synopsis : You begin an unlikely friendship with the little Black. And soon your whole life seems to have become a tumultuous pathway. The catch, James Potter is your brother.

Note : Seek the stars.

Masterlist / Series Masterlist

The first quidditch match of the year was gonna start soon, even though you had not such interest in the game, you were still sitting on the bleachers, immersed in your book. Learning everything and more was a motto of yours, you had Fliwick and Slughorn impressed and ready to teach you the advanced stuff. Professor Mcgonagoll was clever yet kind. But it was in defense against the dark arts, you had to strive, cause just as the rumors stated, the teacher changed every single year.

The horn blew and the players entered the field, their green robes flicking beneath their feet as they moved forward. Your eyes swiftly shifted to the newest addition to the Slytherin team, who stood with nothing but a expression etched in stone. That's how it has mostly been since the start of 2nd year, you could only imagine all what happens in the grimmauld place.

Not that you didn't know, you had been exchanging letters most of the system, it was a well established system. After Walburga almost catched your letter, Regulus had sent you a panicked one to not send him one in such a time that his mother might see. Since then, he received your letters at twillight, while you received his at midnight.                                                                                        

The horn blew again, indicating the beginning of the match, all players mounted their brooms and took off soaring. Amelia jumped next to you, "I'm so excited, who do you think will win?"

"Whoever gets the snitch" you remarked, looking at the seekers. It was a Slytherin vs Ravenclaw match, although Regulus was good, the Ravenclaw was a 4th year, so naturally nothing definite could be concluded. Not like you had hopes on any particular one.

Your eyes shifted between the game and the book, until it became too intense and you were solely watching the game. The players flew wildly, with little understanding and Amelia explaining most of it, you were able to conclude some things. The game was in full motion when Regulus stopped mid air, causing the other seeker to stop too and look around in confusion. Regulus raised his hands and in his palm was the golden snitch. The whole side of Slytherin students stood, and jumped in excitement. The match was won.

The after party was held in the common room, filled with people dancing and cheering, you were sitting at the corner, having a rapid discussion with a drunk 6th year, though it did end quickly leaving you bored.

Your eyes wandered until they landed on a tuft of raven hair, who was sneaking out. Considering you had nothing better to do, you sneaked out after him, until you reached the top most floor of Hogwarts, the astronomy tower. Regulus sat on the floor infront of the big balcony, "Aren't you coming?" you jumped at the unexpected noise, he hadn't even turn around, damn him.

You sat beside him, marveling at the stars scattered shining across the plane, the view up here was breathtaking.

"Why are you not at the party" he asked.

"It was boring, besides I saw the star seeker leaving, thought it'd be more interesting" your cheeky reply earned a quiet chuckle, "Star seeker is a bit too snobbish, don't you think".

You shrugged, "I think it's perfectly fitting". You laughed at his groan but then you turned somber,  "Reg"

"Huh" 

"Everything's okay?" you looked at him pointedly, not letting him avoid the topic.

"Why won't it be" he replied avoiding your gaze, "It's the usual, just a bit more" his smile didn't reach his eyes.

"You know you can talk to me right" you said meeting his eyes.

"I do know so" he replied meeting your gaze.

"Also I forgot, Congratulations on your first match" you said patting his shoulders.  

     

He paused for a moment before grinning, "Give me your hand.

You lilted your hand curiously, extending it, he place the small golden ball on it. "The Snitch" you whispered excitedly, examining it, it was your first time seeing the hogwarts one up close.

Regulus watched your face scrunch in wonder, "You can keep it, if you want".

You  grinned "Really".

Regulus looked with a smug expression, "Yeah, I'm just gonna get more, star seeker remember"

And so he did, Regulus was one of the reasons Slytherin's performance in quidditch improved and went hand in hand or broom in broom with the Gryffindors who had been previously dominating most of the matches.

However nothing changed for good in the house of black, The black brothers looked plauged everytime they returned from may it be for Christmas or summer break. They refused to acknowledge each other, it was as if a force was pulling them apart. Regulus had not tried to talk to Sirius anymore, claiming it would be worthless anyway. It felt wrong for you to meddle inbetween them, so you decided to just be there for him.

Whenever he returned, it would take you days to get back a genuine smile from him, opening him up little by little. If it were up to you you would have taken him out of there, long time ago. But all you could do, and did do was to be there with him, the astronomy tower became yours hangout place. However it may be, you were glad to be friends.  

@shycreationdreamland @mp-littlebit @girlbooklover555 @godofstory @misacc08 @starchaser-lily

[maggeemoo]

Tarnished Mirror; Ch. 1

-[CW: Brief mentions of Suicide]-

“I was expecting you’d be here soon enough.” Neo stood still as she stared up at the Blacksmith, starting to rethink her quick decision to jump into the colorful leaves of the Tree. “Hm? Oh, I see. You don’t quite know what to do here, do you?” Neo shook her head, a tiny bit of tension draining from her as the Blacksmith’s voice began to calm her. Her thoughts raced with the last few things she saw outside. The others saving her by using the smoke of the leaves, the cat screaming as she snuffed its life, the others nothing more than thankful that Ruby was still herself. Just thinking about Ruby was met with a pang of guilt, with how she forced her to practically commit suicide, and when her desire was filled, nothing but emptiness was what she felt. “You seem… sorry. You only wanted vengeance–no, closure–and you got it. There have been others that came here for the same reasons. But that doesn’t matter anymore. Now you have a choice to make, a choice that is yours and yours alone.”

As the Blacksmith spoke, a wide array of weapons rose from the ground. Some familiar and some not, some too heavy to even think about and some so light they could float. But there were two weapons whose weight and quality couldn’t be described: one, a parasol with an impossibly sharp blade inside.

The other, a pair of weapons. A sharp shield with scooped indents on either side, and a weapon capable of swapping between a Javelin, Sword, and Rifle. Though Neo’s eyes briefly lingered on the all-too-familiar parasol, the other pair grabbed her gaze as the Blacksmith continued.

“Your choice is who you want to be. No matter what that choice is, as soon as you make it you will be the person who wielded that weapon. It seems you’ve already left yourself behind once, but you are still you. Should you choose, that will no longer be the case.”

Neo couldn’t help but approach the case with the paired weapons inside, still glancing back at the parasol. With every glance, though, it felt heavier. She had held that same weapon for so long and she knew that it was her perfect weapon, so why did it feel so wrong now? Why did these bronze weapons seem so much more fitting?

“Those weapons are as good a choice as any. Do know that every weapon has its weight, that every person who wields a weapon has burdens. While picking up their weapon may release you of your troubles, you will be shouldering theirs.”

Pressing her hand to the case of the weapons, Neo felt an inherent rightness. Like a river finally reaching an ocean, an immaculate completeness. She could feel tears start to well up as the Blacksmith somehow perfectly put her messy thoughts into words.

“You’ve taken so much, so you think it’s time you gave back instead? If that is your choice, then very well.”

Neo closed her eyes as she noticed all the other weapons sinking away, giving a final glance to the parasol before feeling her new weapons in her hands. She feels her body suddenly change, and the last thing she sees is a gateway into a jungle in the Ever After as her memories slowly fade. As she steps through, the Blacksmith speaks again. “Just as I have done for the others, you will be brought to when you are needed most. Though it is not my part to influence your fate, I wish you the best of luck, Pyrrha Nikos.”

================================================

Just as the Gateway closes, Pyrrha realizes she has no idea where she is. She thinks out loud, and though her voice comes easily it feels odd in her mouth. Every word feels strange to say, like it was the first time she was speaking at all.

“Where am I? Wasn’t I just… What’s happening?”

Pyrrha tries and tries to remember anything, but all she sees in her memory is the impact of the Wyvern Grimm against the tower where she was fighting. Everything feels fuzzy like she was looking through stained glass and hearing with ear muffs on.

“I must’ve gotten injured… But nothing hurts at all. Maybe a dream thanks to hitting my head? No, everything feels too… real, too coherent…”

All Pyrrha can think to do is look around. Trees all around, a thick canopy shading her from too much light, and herself with her weapons. She starts to pat all over her body in search of any injuries or abnormalities and finds nothing. Nothing save for a lock of her hair, a chocolate brown instead of the usual red. She pulls and brushes at the brown, assuming that it’s dirt or mud stuck into her, but nothing comes out. As her motions get more manic her thoughts do as well, her mind drifting to her friends.

“Calm down, calm down. Something happened, I just have to figure out what exactly. The last thing I remember is getting knocked back by that impact, so I must’ve hit my head hard enough to lose whatever happened next. I can’t be far from Beacon, if I get somewhere high up I could look around and find my way.”

Now with a concrete goal, Pyrrha let go of her hair and glanced around. Upon spotting the Tree through a gap in the canopy, she quickly heads straight towards it. But then she realizes that the vine she just passed looks familiar, and that vine too. And didn’t she just walk past that rock? Something is wrong. So Pyrrha sat still for a moment, confused. To test her growing suspicions, she tore a vine from a nearby tree and wrapped it around the branch of one ahead of her. She tied it snugly and then kept moving forward. As she emerged from the thick bushes she saw that same tied vine. Pyrrha balanced her spear on her forearm and used her semblance to magnetize it, now seeing that the direction she was trying to go was north.

“North isn’t an option, okay. How about south- okay, I guess that’s north too.” Pyrrha says as she turns around, seeing that her spear-turned-compass thinks that north is all around her.

Now just using the faraway Tree as a landmark, she turns and finds that her path isn’t infinitely looping anymore. As to why, she doesn’t know, but thankfully she finds a site of interest soon after to distract her. A small clearing with one strange tree in the center. She reaches for the strange, clock-like fruits but notices on the opposite side of the tree lies one of the fruits on the ground, clearly dented and smashed. From the damage to the fruit, it looks like it was frantically smashed in, and clearly, this was quite a long time ago as its metal parts are rusted so badly that just picking it up nearly breaks it in half.

“I couldn’t even hope to guess what this thing does if it was working, but I don’t think I want to find out. Someone must have found out and broken it, and it looks like it took a few hits to do it.”

Pyrrha glances around after she sets the strange fruit down, not seeing much. She does spot a lightly trodden path though, and as she nears the end, she finds a small camp that looks recently visited, but currently unoccupied. She keeps a good eye out, but goes ahead and scouts the small camp.

“Small tent, campfire, and… Perfect, a map of the area. Apologies to whoever is living here, but I’ll be sure to thank you later.” Pyrrha thought out loud as she also found a small pouch with some jerky in it, quickly stashing it away for when she inevitably got hungry. As she looked around for anything else of use, she saw a small note written in scrawling, frantic writing that has a sort of… familiar twinge to it. DON’T FORGET:

-Clock fruits: Harvest by cutting the vine instead of plucking, Jinxy wanted one in exchange for another year or two. Done, but go barter since Jinxy lied and only gave a month

-Check the Monster’s Grave, make sure he didn’t come back again

-Wait, make sure none of the Monster’s victims fall for the clock fruits like he did

-If the Monster comes back then don’t fight, reminding him of what he did to Penny works faster

“...Penny? What the… This has to be a different Penny, right…?” Is all that Pyrrha can say, her thoughts again being said aloud. She looks over the note again and on the back sees more manic words, but written in handwriting that she finally recognizes. The Monster isn’t back he just never left I am the Monster please please please Penny I’m sorry please someone anyone help me kill me

Despite the agitated writing, Pyrrha recognizes the handwriting nearly instantly, the shorter note on the back being clearer than the scrawled front. “Jaune…?”

================================================

(That's the end of Chapter One, everything past this is just me the author rambling~ And here's a link to Chapter Two!)

Hello everyone! I doubt that anyone really knows me, I don't post much but I wrote this quite a while ago and recently touched it up a little and finished what I think is a good "Chapter" of sorts! I think it could be shorter or longer, but after months of on-and-off writing I finally got to a point where I think it works well enough on its own, which is something I strive for with writing since there are a lot of times I condemn a WIP to the shadow realm known as "Write later."

Anyways I'd just like to thank one person in particular, @pilot-boi for at least somewhat entertaining an idea I had a few months back. Had it not been for you saying that you like the idea even a little, this short work may have never existed and would have never been posted, so thank you so so so so so much. I've written a lot of things that just kinda came out of nowhere that not a lot of people have found interesting so I never bothered to post them anywhere, but the tiny bit of encouragement that you gave me was a spark. I can only hope that spark stays lit long enough for me to write this AU out fully, and maybe for me to give the series an ending that I think it needs.

Thanks everyone for reading, and have a wonderful day/morning/night~ Toodles!

[shannonallaround]

After pondering on it for several days, I have officially decided I did not like the direction of KFP4 and have banished it from my brain. It is no longer canon. KFP4? What's that? Don't know what you're talking about.

[quadrantadvisor]

I started shipping Dick Grayson and Percy Jackson as a joke and then got accidentally invested. Help.

The thing about them is that I think they would Know. They would each know that the other had been though more than any one person could be expected to bear. They would feel secrets like a weight between them. And they would just. Not ask. They would decide to be eachother's simple thing. A bright spot of good in a world that's too hard.

Dick comes across as a ray of sunshine but he keeps up with Percy's snark. Percy's bleeding heart for the downtrodden and disdain for any authority endears him to Dick. They just have complimentary energies.

What makes this funny is how everyone else reacts to them.

Dick's family is panicking, since Percy is The Most Suspicious Man on the Planet. He works six months out of the year at summer camps that don't exist. He was accused of terrorism as a twelve year old. They keep trying to bring this up with Dick, who is exaggerating oblivoiusness. "What, Percy, suspicious? Never. He's great with kids, I'm sure the campers love him, isn't that sweet?" Tim is pulling out his hair.

Meanwhile, Percy's telling Annabeth (who he is still dating, polyamory ftw) all about his new guy, and Annabeth is like, "Let me get this staight. You're dating a rich trust fund kid, who's also a police officer, named Dick? That's not a real guy. That's a parody of a person. Who are you and since when do you tolerate cops."

[ye-xiu]

I'll call your name like the sunlight That has just approached

⤿ for @hyunsung ♡

[keniaku]

feeling a lot of emotions lying on the bed of my own private room that i paid all by myself