#the answer is nobody nobody wants to text my phone like they can blow it up it's fine w/e

[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.”

[elytrafemme]

every single fictional character i like should split and have mood swings like me. "ohhhhh but it's not canotical" "ohh they have good control over their emotions and stable views on the world" i don't fucking care. i see cq in his fake desert i see klavier's control dialogue i see dahlia and her serial murders and komaeda and the gun literally fuck with me right now. we need to stop being cowards about our fictional character headcanons i think everyone should kill people always because i can't

[cherriesformatt]

Hi could I request Matt x reader

They are in their senior year of Highschool and it’s prom season.The reader is sad because she never had any romance in her life and dreams of a promposal.Matt really likes the reader and even though he doesn’t like bring attention to him he surprises the reader.

promposal || matt sturniolo

matt x fem!reader

warnings: none, fluff!

word count: 1,1k

a/n: I hope you like it and I did not ruin the idea!

🍒

I came home and tossed my bag and car keys on the cubby.

"Hi! I'm home!" I yelled to check if anyone was back from work or in case of my brother from school.

Only echo answered me and I sight of relief because the last thing I wanted was to small talk with everyone how my day was.

I went to my room, stripped from my clothes and wrapped my body in white, fluffy robe. I took change of clothes, my phone and dragged my feet to my parents master bathroom. They had huge bath tube and my mom had all those fancy stuff from TikTok to make a relaxing bath.

I made myself one with lots of bubbles and got in. I didn’t put any bath bomb or candles because it would give me a headache. The only thing I did was putting music on from my phone on the speaker in the bathroom.

I hated today. And all of this week to be honest.

It was this time of the year again. Senior year to be specific. Thats why I hated it even more because it's the last time ever for that.

For prom.

Everyone including my best friends were proposed to go to prom by their boyfriends. In every cute way possible. I was only there to fake smile and be happy for them but also a little jealous. Because here is the thing.

I was always so focused on school and soccer that I never, ever let any boy near me. It is a miracle that my best friends are still my friends. I was single through all high school, never went on any date and when I rejected some boys no-one asked me again. Which brings us here, I also was never asked to go for a prom. This time it was a little sad because it is going to be my last prom.

"I hate myself" I said and made my body to go under hot water while Frank Ocean was playing in the room.

I stayed like that for a second but I heard my music stopped for a massage notification so I sat back up and took my phone from the ground next to the bath tube splashing some water on the floor.

I checked the massage and I was a little surprised. It was from Matt Sturniolo. I knew him because his brother Chris was dating my best friend Maggie. He sometimes drives us to parties or games. He and his triplet brothers played hockey and lacrosse in our school. They were pretty good. Nick also did our yearbook this year. Matt and I never really had any class together and beside knowing him as Chris's brother I didn't really spend time with him. He didn’t usually stay at parties after games and even if he did he spent time with his team mates I did with mine.

I smiled a little. Was he kind of asking me out? What should I do?

Wasn't I just complaining that nobody asked me out?

And I said yes.

What am I even going to wear? It’s march and it’s going to be cold on the beach.

I spend and hour in the bath and than I ate early dinner and started to get ready.

I did blow out on my hair and put a light make up on. I didn’t want to look like I care too much. I put some jeans on and a hoodie with white Air Force 1. They had blue flowers custom painted for me on them by one of my friends.

When I got a text massage from Matt that he is waiting outside a little before 7 I told my parents I’m leaving and took my purse and locked the door behind me.

He was leaning on his car and smiled when he saw me. He looked nice. We kinda matched the outfits. He also was wearing a hoodie and jeans and white air forces.

“Hi… it’s nice to see you not on the field next to mine” he said.

That’s true. We usually just had practice or a game next to each other.

“Same to you… you stole my outfit tho” I laughed as he opened car doors for me.

“I can live with matching your outfit” He smiled looking at me and he closed the doors and went to the driver seat.

We drove to the beach talking about everything and nothing. Mostly about sports and music and the midterms.

“We’re here let’s go?” He smiled when we parked.

I got out of the car and he came to me.

“Okay I know it will sound weird but can you close your eyes? And not peek?” Ha asked me.

He was nervous?

“Okay…. But if you want to kill me my dad is going to find you and probably kill your brother for accident” I said closing my eyes and sticking my hand out for him.

He giggled at what I said and toon my hand to lead me.

Sun was setting already so it is going to be dark soon. I’m not sure what we are doing here.

I heard some sounds as we were walking on the sand but mostly it was sound of the ocean.

“Okay I’m going to let go of your hand… don’t open your eyes just yet” he said.

He dropped my hand and I stand waiting for him to tell me to open my eyes. I heard some voices too.

What the hell is happening.

“Okay… you can open your eyes now” Matt said from somewhere in front of me.

I opened my eyes and they automatically widened.

There was some lanterns going up into the sky. Like I my favorite movie.

Tangled.

I looked at them and then down to see where they are coming from. Whole lacrosse and hockey team were putting them up.

There he was standing in the middle with a poster that said:

Light up my night at prom?

And there was a painting of the tower from the movie. It was beautiful. I bet Maggie did it.

Nobody ever did anything like that for me.

“Matt what the hell?” I said coming up to him I’m pretty sure I had tears in my eyes now.

“Sooo?” He looked at me unsure of my reaction.

“Of course..” I said looking at him and wiped my cheeks with my hoodies sleeve.

Whole teams started cheering and I laughed.

“How did you even know? That I like the movie…” I asked.

“Well I talked to Chris and Chris talked to Maggie and you know…” he scratched back of his neck.

“Gosh I feel like I could kiss you right now…” I whispered.

He smiled and put one of his hands on my cheek and the other one wondered on my back to pull me closer to him. He looked deep in my eyes looking for reassurance but I just connected our lips together.

It couldn’t get any better. The best promposal I could ask for.

[appleblueberry-pie]

More yandere 42 Miles Morales

I can see Miles having increased courage and confidence when he's with you. He'll say anything and everything that he thinks is important for you to hear, and he loves you too much to not tell you whatever is on his mind.

He wants to hold you so close to his side, feel your body heat radiate onto him. He wants to stare at you forever and wants you to stare at him too. He's dehydrated and you're his only drink of water, his salvation. He needs to have you, every part of you to himself and will remind you everyday.

You swear he's an insomniac with how often you catch him up at night when you guys text. But when he sleeps next to you, he's out and will stay out for a damn while. Hell, he'd wake up acting like he's in a fucking raisin bran commercial just cause you there.

Loves to whisper how he feels to you just to make you squirm. A romantic and flirt, only times ten because it's for you. Caresses your side, face, leg, head, whatever he can get his hands on. He loves you and will show you and tell you.

It definitely gets worse when you reciprocate it. He tell you a little flirt joke and you wholeheartedly/seriously respond back with confidence? He doubling down on you and won't stop cheesing. Don't run away, it's too late for that, he'll pull yo ass back and make you finish what you started.

If you text him, he'll text back in under a minute, no matter the circumstance. Nothing stops him from reaching out to you ever. If somehow you two end up arguing and god forbid you end on a bad note, he'll blow up your phone.

Another call starts up as soon as the last one ends if you don't answer. Sweet nothings of him begging you to answer the phone turn into threats to pick up(without him realizing it because he's too scared and angry to care about how it sounds) very quickly.

I'm laughing at you if you think turning your phone off and going to sleep will work. He will break into your house and wake you up.

"Fuck you turn your phone off for? Pensabas que esa mierda era graciosa? (You thought that shit was funny?) Huh? Don't ever fucking play with me like that." Doesn't care if everyone else is asleep. Just wants to get his message across to you.

That's probably the worst he'll get when he's "mad" at you(he will never truly get mad at you). Don't even ask about how he get when other niggas try to fuck around with you. oh my god. You tell him someone tried to touch you?

"Baby, look at me." Eyes stern, yet frantic. His shaky breathing is scaring you, but you can't let him see that. His hand grabs your chin, his hold making it hurt. "I need you to tell me that that's the only thing he did to you. Are you sure that's all he said? All he did?" He whispers it as if a hundred people surround you both wanting to listen in on what's being said. You nod and he shakes his head. "Cause I'm gonna kill that motherfucker. You hear me? Nobody fucking touches you."

He stares deep into your eyes, you can't tell if he's hyperventilating or not. All you want is for him to calm down, because seeing him like this is too much for you. You don't know if telling him was even worth it at this point.

"NOBODY!" He shouts it in your face and you violently flinch. He immediately consoles you and apologizes constantly. "Lo siento, lo siento, lo siento. Por favor, perdóname, cariño. Te quiero muchísimo. Solo quiero mantenerte a salvo.(I'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry. Please forgive me, darling. I love you so much. I just want to keep you safe.)" He whispers it in your ear and rocks you side to side. He can't stay still for the life of him. He sits you down on the bed and begins pacing.

Whispering to himself and clenching his hands. He then sits down next to you and holds your hands tightly. "I'll be back in at most 2 hours. I'll do whatever you what when you come back. But you gotta eat and catch up on your rest, okay, mi amor? I love you. And I care for you. And I want you to know that whatever happens out there?.....it ain't ever gon' break what we got. Alright?"

He slams his lips onto yours, kissing you passionately in a way he's never done before. A mix of emotions fill you and you can't find the words to make him stay. To make him stop. When he separates the kiss, he rests his sweaty forehead on yours. "I fucking love you." He whispers before leaving.

He would never ever isolate you or lock you up. He heavily prefers seeing you as the best YOU that you can be. He is obsessed with your personality, talents, hobbies, desires, speech, the way you walk, scent, everything. Taking that away from you is like murdering you. He can't live with himself if he did that to you.

Your family loves him, so it'd be hard to escape the relationship when they love him almost as much as they love you. He could give less of a fuck about your friends. You don't need them like you two need each other.

Try to mention anything bad he's done "for you" in the past? Will "assure" you to not worry about it and will justify his actions. "Don't worry about that nigga anymore, mami. I dealt with it. Y'all gon be cool now, okay? So don't worry your pretty self about it anymore and lets get you home. You look tired."

He LOOOOOVES when you coddle him or take care of him. His dream is to lay in your comfortable bed together while you hum him a song and you rub his back while his head lays on your comfortable chest. Every advantage is in his hands when he's sick because he has you to take care of him. He just becomes more delusional when he's sick, basically. Getting fed, maybe praised, cooed at, extra attention and care. Please. He leans into your warm hands like a touch-starved puppy.

Hates it so much when you lead him on strongly but then just shut it down entirely. Flirting with him, pulling him in by his jacket, constantly glancing down at his lips while giggling at his stupid fucking jokes. Then you just turn your head and walk off??? Man, fuck you. Follows you around whining constantly.

Eats absolutely anything you make. I canon he has a humungous appetite. Know how to make gumbo? Half of it's gone in 30 minutes. You'll have to feed him 4 servings every time you cook. That nigga eats everything. "Baby, this good as hell." Yeah, I bet! Knocks out when he's done. Good luck waking him up.

Anyways, he can get really bad at times. But most of the time, he's everything you could ever ask for.

[juyeonszn]

PRINCESS AND THE PAUPER (PT. 2)

PAIRING kevin moon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 5.60k

GENRES angst ﹒little bit of fluff ﹒little bit of smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, reader is better than me cause i would not let kevin do all the shit he’s done 😭, ANYWAY i digress, this part is very reader-centric — whereas part one is very kevin-centric, inner turmoil goes absolutely crazy, most of this fic is reader putting kevin in his place and him realizing how big of an asshole he truly is, mentions of injury (past tense), mentions of insecurity, lots of arguing, reader cries at one point or another, the smut places a very minimal role in this, but unprotected sex, public sex (the auditorium dressing room), no foreplay but wtv we fall like soldiers in battle, pussy job lowkey (high key…), creampie, lmk if i missed anything!

SUMMARY it wasn’t like you and kevin hated each other. in fact, you quite admired him despite his somewhat indifferent attitude toward you. well, now that you’re paired up for the last dance of the year, you guess it’s the perfect time to find out why.

MORE oh my god. it’s finally fucking here. A MONTH, 2 SICKNESSES AND MANY MANY STRESSFUL NIGHTS LATER— part two of princess and the pauper is here!!! i’m so sorry to those of u who have been itching and waiting on me to get ‘er done,,, it’s been an ordeal to say the least, and while it’s nearing the two month mark since the black out or back out collab was announced, SHE FINALLY FINISHED!!! for once i saw something through omg i can sleep peacefully and work on my other wips without guilt now… 😭 ALSO THANK U SO MUCH MAYA @/kimsohn FOR PUSHING ME THROUGH THIS and for making me thug it out bc without u it definitely would’ve taken much longer to finish 💔 please dont forget to read part one and the other fics in the series if u haven’t!! both are linked below! and as always, pls reblog if u enjoyed <3

PART ONE | SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel @ericlvr @sunwooverse @kimsohn

TAGLIST @millksea @deobibbang @deobi0412

Never in your life have you felt so… Confused.

It wasn’t just confusion that settled deep in the pit of your stomach. There was a sharp pain there too, like someone stabbed you and twisted the knife. That was probably the best way to describe what you were feeling. You were bleeding out, and no one was coming to save you.

Kevin wasn’t answering your calls. He wasn’t answering your texts. He ran out of the lecture hall as soon as class was over, never giving you a moment to speak to him. It was making you nervous.

You still had half of a dance to choreograph and a fuck ton of pressure riding on your back. After the last performance you and him did together, you’d have a lot of eyes on you. It most definitely wasn’t your fault that he dropped you. How many people willingly want to acquire a broken ankle? The crutches were a bitch to maneuver around with. But like every single thing that’s happened in the three years you’ve known Kevin Moon, he’s managed to place the blame on you like it was.

It was crucial that you make amends with him even if it was momentarily. Your final grades were dependent on your performance. If he couldn’t get his shit together for at least that, he was a lost cause in your mind. Not even your professor would be able to refute that fact. Actually, nobody would be able to refute that fact.

Your lips form an O as you blow the steam away from your coffee, pulling out your phone to try Kevin’s phone once again. The line rings a few times before going straight to voicemail like it has the past couple weeks. You kiss your teeth, tying your sweater around your waist as you slump in your chair. The baristas at the campus cafe were probably sick of seeing you sitting in the same high-top counter spot since the incident with Kevin in the studio.

“Y/N?”

Ji Changmin appears beside you and you click your phone off, so he wouldn’t see his friend’s contact on the screen. You give the Early Childhood Dev major a weak smile.

“Changmin! What’s up? How are you and your girlfriend?” You hope he can’t recognize the distress written all over your features. You highly doubt it, though. You can feel the wrinkles pulling at your skin.

“We’re good! How’s the showcase performance going with Kev?” He asks like he knows something you don’t. When your lips fall to a thin line, an all too familiar grimace, he sighs a knowing sigh. “Do I have to smack some sense into him?”

“Not gonna lie, yeah, you do. He’s being really fucking difficult and like half of our dance is unfinished. I can’t even get a hold of him, so I’m starting to lose my patience.” You express your annoyance. The border between complacency and free-will was a lot slimmer than one might think. For example; your feelings when it comes to Kevin Moon.

You don’t expect to get a returning call later that night when you’re washing dishes after dinner.

In fact, you don’t even hear it at first, too absorbed in scrubbing the staining out of your bowl. It’s when your roommate yells out to you, that you snap out of your reverie, albeit dazedly. You dry your hands on a nearby tea towel, hitting the green answer button without a second glance at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Are you free tomorrow?”

Your heart catches in your throat. You recognize the owner of the voice practically by the first breath into the receiver alone. It’s actually kind of unhealthy how quickly it took to realize who was on the other end. You swallow heavily, praying he doesn’t hear the gulp.

“In the latter part of the afternoon, I believe. Why?” You try not to sound hopeful. That’s one thing you’ve learned being in the same vicinity as Kevin Moon. You could never be too expecting, because it would only lead to disappointment. And you’d dealt with enough of that the past few years.

“We need to finish this fuck ass choreography,” he grunts, and it takes everything in you to bite your tongue. “I’ll meet you in the same studio at 4.”

He doesn’t let you get anything else in, hanging up swiftly. You deflate as you set your phone back on the counter. All you had to do was push through these next couple weeks, like you always have when it came to him.

That should be a piece of cake, right?

Wrong.

“No, that looks stupid.”

You grit your teeth, swiping the back of your hand on your forehead. You’d been inside of this studio maybe 30 minutes tops, and you were on the verge of strangling Kevin. With as long as you’d been putting up with his shit, you thought getting through this wouldn’t be as rough as it’s been. But if there was one thing Kevin Moon had, it was pride.

“We don’t have time for you to nitpick right now. Let’s just finish the choreography and clean it after.” Your hands rest on your hips, nostrils flaring.

“If we clean as we go, we’ll have more time to drill it into our systems and get down muscle memory. It’ll be a stronger performance.” He argues. You roll your eyes as you turn away from him, taking a water break to calm yourself. “Why do you have so much fucking attitude today? You were the one preaching to the choir about me making things difficult. It seems the tables have turned.”

Usually, you were pretty good at keeping your frustration at bay when it came to Kevin’s remarks. You liked to think it was because you were down bad for the guy, despite him always wanting nothing to do with you. But as of late, (Read: Since your performance of Princess and the Pauper) every little comment he’s made has managed to crawl under your skin like a damn parasite. You were beginning to get real sick of it.

“God, you’re so—“ You interrupt yourself to groan, fingers curling into fists. “You’re fucking insufferable. Do you know that? I’ve been bending over backwards to ensure we aren’t kicked out of the goddamn program and you don’t even fucking care. Over what? A kiss that you initiated?”

Kevin is stunned into silence, not at all prepared for you to blow up on him like that. After all, that razor thin line between complacency and free-will had yet to be crossed. And well, it appears that you just crossed it. You whip around toward him, pulling down the collar of your t-shirt to reveal the faintest of bruises that still remains from your impromptu act of intimacy.

“I’ve had to look at this every day for a week and all it’s done is make me feel shitty, ashamed of something I didn’t even start. Now I need you to stop acting like an ass and get it together so we can finish this and perform the best dance this university has ever seen.” Your chest is heaving up and down, similarly to when you made out against the mirrors last week. Except this time isn’t out of breathlessness, but rather anger and exhaustion.

Kevin’s eyes don’t leave the hickey on the base of your throat, something undetectable swimming in them as he stares. You can’t read the emotions swirling rampantly in his irises, a mixture of too many blurring into one another. Honestly, it’s funny. It’s funny that it’s taken you this long to get him to shut his mouth for once.

So you laugh.

It’s a snort at first, an off handed projection of how comical the situation has become to you. But then it metamorphoses into a small giggle, which leads to full scale laughter that has you hunching over your knees and wiping away tears. This whole thing is stupid. Absolutely fucking stupid.

“What are you laughing at?” His eyebrow raises in question, broken from his weird trance.

“I just can’t believe it took three years for me to shut you up,” you shake your head slowly, rubbing your eye with the heel of your palm. “You’re always the one who can’t stop talking.”

Kevin deadpans, mouth pulled pin-straight as his expression drops. “You’re so unserious.”

As the height of your laughter reaches a valley, you collapse onto the ground, resting your back against the mirror. You take another long sip of water before sighing. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. Trust me, I know. But, we’ve gotta set aside our differences just this once. Please, for the sake of the department.”

“Fine,” he murmurs, plopping down beside you to stretch his back. “Let’s finish choreographing so we can start cleaning it up.”

It’s a victory in your book, and probably the most obedient the Pisces has ever been. Maybe this wouldn’t end in complete disaster like you assumed it would. It turns out Kevin Moon wasn’t entirely brainless and knew when he was wrong. Sometimes. Maybe. We’ll see.

You shut your eyes and visualize what you’ve choreographed so far, going over the moves in your head to see if the rest will come to you like a prophecy. It’s wishful thinking, but with how much you’ve accomplished since setting foot in the studio, you’re willing to try anything. The track would be nice for elements of hip hop style choreography, but you knew the audience wouldn’t eat it up as much as they would the route you’re currently taking.

Driver roll up the partition, please…

The song plays through the speakers and you watch as Kevin stands to run through everything you have. You’re entranced by his movements, the flow of his body on certain points. It’ll look ten times better once you’re doing it with him, costumed and performing it perfectly in front of a crowd. You can picture it now, the gentle but controlled glide of his hands along your arms when Beyoncé sings “We ain’t even gonna make it to this club”. He was right. You very well might be seduced by your enemy.

“Should we use props?” You suddenly voice, eyes narrowed in thought. He hums.

“That’s… not a half-bad idea, actually,” his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “What did you have in mind?”

“A chair, maybe,” you look away from him, placing your focus on the way your toes alternate between a tendu and relaxed position. “That could take up a good chunk of the choreo.”

Kevin stalks over to the supply closet in the corner of the studio, pulling out a folding chair. He puts it in the center of the room gently, careful to not scratch up the wooden, lacquered flooring. You spend the next couple of hours brainstorming through numerous versions of the dance. While it was a lot easier than your past practices, there were still the occasional argument over which movements looked good and whatnot.

At a certain point, everything becomes cohesive and the end is near. You gulp down some water as Kevin does some random choreography. It’s then that it comes to you, like a vision from That’s So Raven. You practically drop your water bottle, scrambling to your feet and stopping him. Your breath is heavy from fatigue and you’re slightly afraid of even suggesting this, but it’s exactly what this dance needs. It’s exactly what everyone wants to see from the two of you.

He pauses the music and gestures for you to get on with it. You push down the lump in your throat, scared of rejection. But maybe he was smart and he would agree that this is what you have to do. “What if we did a lift?”

You see the hesitation swirling in his eyes and you raise a finger before he can shut you down entirely. “Nothing crazy like… um— you know— Princess and the Pauper, but something smaller. Something… sexy? Like, Dancing with the Stars type beat.”

When he shrugs instead of outright dismissing your idea, you know you’ve won. He nods slowly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Okay, sure. But we better clean up everything else fast so we can perfect the lift.”

The two of you take another three hours running the entirety of the choreography, ingraining the moves into your brains and muscles. You still had a bit until the actual showcase, but your priority now lies with the lift. If you nailed it, the entire department would very well grovel after you in reparation for all of the slack you got after Kevin dropped you. Hell, the entire university would kiss your feet. This was your redemption. In more ways than one.

You both decide to call it a day at around 9:30 PM. Your hands reach for your belongings and then you halt yourself, a thought coming to mind. While you had him in this weird state of obedience, you figured it was as good a time as any to ask the question that’s been weighing on you for the past few years. Your fingers swipe away the sweat beading around your hairline.

”Kevin,” you start, voice a lot softer than before. “Why do you— what did I do to make you dislike me so much?”

He’s caught completely off guard, eyes widening in surprise. If he was anticipating you to say anything else prior to parting ways tonight, he didn’t think this would be it. He’s actually a little off put that you hadn’t asked him this already in the span of your definitely-one-sided rivalry. He takes a large gulp of water.

”I’d call it indifference, not dislike,” he corrects after a pregnant silence. “It’s really fucking stupid thinking about it in hindsight. I don’t know if you remember this time, way back in our first year, we ran into each other at the campus cafe— literally, might I add— and you spilled your coffee all over this white shirt of mine that Changmin had gotten for me as a birthday gift. I only recently found out that it wasn’t as expensive as he made it out to be.”

You blink at his admission, processing his words as thoroughly as possible. You don’t know what you wanted him to say. You weren’t even sure if there was a concrete reason for him to be so fucking mean to you all this time. And now that you know, you come to the conclusion that Kevin Moon isn’t as smart as you’ve painted him out to be in your head. He’s actually a gigantic idiot. Because who in their right mind goes through these lengths to form a distance between the only other person on par with their talent?

Before you can stop yourself, you’re bursting into another fit of laughter. Kevin falters at your reaction. He was waiting for you to blow up on him, to scream in his face for causing you so much pain and unnecessary drama over something so silly. So when you do none of that, when you start fucking laughing like a damn hyena, he feels dumb. Like his entire college career has been built off of nothing.

”This is so—“ you pause to gather your bearings, wiping away the tears that managed to escape. “We’ve spent so much time going back and forth over some spilled coffee? Surely you’ve realized how insane that is at some point.”

”It took a lengthy argument with Changmin, but yeah, I did,” he nods, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

You worry your lower lip between your teeth, finally getting your things together. The two of you bid each other an awkward goodbye. Neither of you knew what to make of your relationship now that things had been partially sorted through. There was a fuck ton of baggage that still had to be sifted, but at least you had an answer.

That was enough to push through this showcase performance. You think.

You’re nervous.

Never in your entire life have you ever been this nervous for a performance.

You grew up doing musical theatre and dancing, it’s always been the one constant presence you could rely on. But standing here, backstage at the showcase, you think you’re going to throw up. Your palms are clamming up uncontrollably and your chest feels unbearably heavy as you watch the quartet doing a contemporary piece to some ballad you couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of. There were still a couple groups before you.

Not even when you had to perform fuckass Princess and the Pauper were you this anxious. You wince, trying to stop the incessant bouncing of your leg. Your weight keeps shifting from one hip to the other. As a seasoned veteran, you don’t know why you feel this way. Maybe it had to do with all the pressure riding on this very dance. Every single eye in that crowd was going to scrutinize your every move on that stage.

“Calm down,” a voice whispers harshly from beside you. “You’re making me nervous.”

Kevin wraps his fingers around your wrist, stopping the annoying tap-tap-tap your own were doing against your thigh. He gives you a look, and you sigh. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

That’s a lie. Not only was the high expectations from the entire school getting to you, but so was the fear of history repeating itself. He knows this, it was inevitable. After what happened the last time he was tasked with lifting you, it was only natural.

”We’ve drilled this dance hundreds, if not thousands, of times, Y/N. We’ll do just fine.” Kevin assures you.

His hand feels foreign holding yours, like it was illegal for his skin to be touching your own. You feel your lower lip quiver, a sense of trepidation that you’ve never once felt creeping down your spine. Your mind was spiraling, and quite honestly, Kevin being so close was making it worse. All you could think about was him dropping you again, leaving you in the middle of the stage with a broken leg and a broken heart. You release a shaky breath and he turns to face you.

Your eyes widen and he searches your face for any disingenuity. When he finds his answer, he brings the hand that was holding yours up to cup your cheek. He’s cautious, afraid he might break you like he always does. He waits for you to shove him away and to yell at him for being a fucking coward.

You don’t. You stay still, hoping he follows through with what you think he’s about to do. And then he does.

It’s such a featherlight peck of his lips on your own, you almost don’t even register. But sparks shoot from the source all the way to the tips of your fingers. You feel as if you were dealt a static shock of electricity, your whole body buzzing from the small kiss alone.

He pulls away just in time for the stage manager to inform you that you’re next. Kevin rolls his neck jogging over to the wings to patiently await your performance like he hadn’t just kissed you a moment ago. You blink dumbly, two fingers coming up to touch where his lips had been. Sure the nerves were gone now, but the sensation of butterflies swarming about in your stomach easily replaced that. What the fuck was his problem?

“Our last performance is one I’m sure all of you have been waiting for. Kevin Moon and Y/N L/N with Partition!”

Before you know it, you and Kevin are in position, your body squared upstage and his to the crowd. Your eyes are closed, but you can feel his arm wrapped around your waist and his steady breathing on your nose. The spotlight switches on, the heat of the lighting warm against the side of your face. It’s silent in the auditorium, but it rings in your ears. You could do this.

Let me hear you say ‘Hey Miss Carter’…

You move on reflex, muscle memory kicking in instantaneously. Each circle of your hips, every turn you make— a fouetté here, a pirouette there, a couple coupes, each roll of your body. But what really gets you is the long brushes of Kevin’s skin on your own. You’d practiced with distance between the two of you. There was a tension that had been there for years. Now it’s all coming to a rolling boil, a new uncharted tension that every single member in that audience could see.

And then comes the lift.

You, along with everybody in the auditorium, practically hold your breath when Kevin’s hands grip your hips. He raises you above him with all of his strength, completely focused on you and only you. You shut your eyes and feel the moment, like, really feel it. Your body is relaxed, the Dirty Dancing-esque lift bringing the whole performance together just like you knew it would. The only difference from the movie and real life is the fact that you’re flipped, your backside to Kevin and your chest to the ceiling.

Your eyes flutter open, the spotlight all but blinding you, and you finally feel content. Like everything has fallen into the right place for once in your life. Especially so when Kevin sets you down gently and you finish your dance with the utmost confidence.

The crowd erupts into a roaring chorus of applause, going as far as giving you a standing ovation. Holy shit. You pulled it off. You actually managed to pull it off.

Your face feels like it might split from how big your smile is. You and Kevin bow, walking off stage. You’re entirely too happy right now, a newfound energy overtaking you as you trail behind him.

“We did it!” You cheer as you follow him towards the dressing room where your things are. You’re the only ones left backstage, everyone else filtering out between performances. Kevin doesn’t give you much of a response, just a small nod of acknowledgment. Your smile falters. “What the hell is your problem?”

”Nothing, Y/N, fuck. Can you just mind your own fucking business?” He snaps, turning around to glare at you just as the door slams behind you. You instinctively flinch at both loud noises. His features soften but you take a step back from him.

You aren’t sure why you’re surprised. This isn’t anything new. Kevin has always made it crystal clear that he wasn’t your number one fan. Being neutral for your performance wasn’t enough to repair all the holes in whatever your relationship was, and you should’ve known better. You shouldn’t have let your guard down so easily. You should’ve expected this. Old dogs can never learn new tricks.

But Kevin’s scared. He’s afraid of letting you in after all the mess he’s put you through. The only thing he’s good at doing is hurting you, over and over like there was a prize that came out of it.

”Look…”

”No, you listen to me,” you swallow heavily, tears already tight lining your eyes. “Kevin, I have taken so much shit from you. Over these past few years I have just sat there and let you unload all your fucked up insecurities onto me. Have you ever wondered why? Have you ever thought to stop and think about why I let you be so mean to me without even questioning it?”

He says nothing, just stares with his lips parted. They open and close like a fish out of water, words there at the tip of his tongue but refusing to make their escape. And then one of your tears rolls down your cheeks and he’s directly in front you, his heart on his sleeve for the first time since you’ve met him.

”Why?” The simple question is so quiet, you almost don’t hear him. But his eyes hold so much hurt, so much anguish that you’ve never seen in a person before.

“I’ve had feelings for you for so long, it’s actually starting to ache. You’ve only ever seen me as this thing, this obstacle. And I’m afraid that that’s all I’ll ever be to you, because you won’t let me be anything else. You won’t—“

”That’s not true, Y/N,” Kevin sighs, looking off to the side, away from you. “I just— it’s complicated. It’s more than just being rivals.”

”So help me understand,” you frown. “Let me in, please.”

”My entire life I’ve had to work to get to where I am. I’ve fought tooth and nail to be as good of a performer as I am today. There were so many hoops I had to go through to even get into this program and— and I thought I’d finally become the best I could be. I thought that there was no way anyone could ever be better than me. And then you showed up. You and your pretty smile and your natural ability to be the best at everything you do. It was like you were the real life manifestation of all of my critics, of every challenge I faced to get here. Where I had to practice day and night to perfect something, it just came to you like second nature. During Princess and the Pauper, when I dropped you, it truly was an accident. But we’d spent so much time nailing it, that it— I just made myself feel better by saying it was your fault. ‘How could it have been my fault if I perfected it?’ I was jealous and petty and it was just easier to blame hating— to blame my indifference on you spilling coffee on my stupid shirt. For that, I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what you were waiting to hear, but it wasn’t that. Your tears turn into full on blubbering, because what the fuck? That’s so much burden for someone to carry on their shoulders for three years.

“Why are you— why are you crying?” He flounders, reaching up to swipe away your tears.

“I wish I knew… I wish I could’ve helped you somehow,” you sniffle. “Kev, I’ve always admired you and your work ethic. I hoped one day I’d be half as disciplined as you, half as determined.”

He blinks. You’re both dumb, aren’t you? Too focused on the wrong things. You both could’ve been a lot less hateful, a lot less miserable, had you just spoken your differences out. This entire rivalry has been completely one sided, but also built off of plain stupidity and ignorance. He supposes it’s not too late to make amends if you aren’t running in the opposite direction despite everything he’s put you through.

Kevin leans forward, hand still pressed to your cheek, and connects your lips softly. He’s testing the waters, making sure you’re comfortable before he continues anything. When you don’t back away just yet, he adds more force, deepening the kiss like a man starved. You whine against his lips.

This is what you’ve been wanting from him. More than what he gave you before your performance, but not what happened in the studio a few weeks ago. This desperation isn’t abashed lust, it’s unbridled affection— it’s everything he’s holed inside of himself for years, unwilling to let it see the light of day until now. If you were to label anything as perfection, it wouldn’t be a dance or a moment on stage, it would be this. Just you and Kevin finally bringing yourselves together in the most intimately emotional union.

He pulls you closer to him, hands sliding down to grasp at your waist, bunching up the thin fabric of your leotard. You can’t help but bury your fingers in his hair, tugging when he nips at your lower lip. A gasp permeates the air when his mouth travels south, along your jaw and down the side of your neck. He bites and sucks the tender skin at the base of your throat, ensuring he leaves his mark on you. This time isn’t careless, this time he has purpose. He wants everybody to know that you’re his, that you’re the only person insane enough to put up with him.

Your breathing is shaky when you reach behind you to lock the dressing room, dragging him over to the long vanity adjacent to you. He slots between your legs when you hoist yourself onto the surface. He pecks your lips and pauses his movements, rubbing up and down your thighs. In the dim, yellow lighting of the room, you look so gorgeous. He’s always thought you were beautiful, the most stunning thing he’s ever laid his eyes on, but he’s repressed it for so long. He wants to take his time staring at what he’s avoided.

”You’re so pretty,” he says quietly, kissing you again and again and again. “I don’t think I can last long with you.”

“Can we skip the foreplay?” You ask, bottom lip jutted into a pout. “Need you to just fuck me like you mean it.”

Kevin’s forehead falls to your shoulder with a groan. “I don’t deserve you,” God, he’s such an idiot for holding out from this. You should’ve been given the world and so much more. He has a lot of lost time to make up for. He kisses your shoulder with a sigh. “Yeah, baby, I can do that.”

You don’t waste another second, slipping your arms through the sleeves of your leotard. He has to bite down on his tongue when he sees that you’re braless, fingers going slack as they unbutton the rest of his silk shirt. You shimmy out of the one piece, left in nothing but the fishnet stockings you wore underneath and your lacy panties. Kevin thinks he must’ve done at least something right in a past life to experience this.

Your eyes sparkle as you look up at him, undoing his slacks and kicking them down his legs with your feet. Something takes over him when he rips a bigger hole in your stockings, pushing your underwear to the side. His thumb glides through your folds with ease, your slick providing enough lubricant. He pushes your lower lips apart while you busy yourself shoving his underwear to his ankles.

His cock slips inside of you with less friction than he would’ve thought, but he doesn’t complain, screwing his eyes shut as he acclimates to the feeling of your walls surrounding him. You moan, such a soft sound that he nearly loses his balance.

“You feel so good, baby,” he coos, digging his fingers into your hips as he rocks his own. “You’re so so perfect.”

The praise is too much for you, given the circumstances. Your brain is already cloudy, stuffed with what could only be described as cotton. You watch with half lidded eyes as he begins to piston into you at a faster speed. This all feels like a fever dream, something that was only possible in your craziest fantasies. Even then, it seemed unlikely.

“‘M close, Kev,” you whine, unable to stay still and attempting to match his thrusts.

“Already? We’ve only just started, gorgeous.” He laughs, but it’s breathy, strained from the exertion of his body. You hardly have the strength in you to be embarrassed about it, especially since he’s seen you in much worse situations.

You nod frantically, snaking a hand between you to circle your clit with nimble fingers. Kevin halts you and pulls out momentarily, sliding his cock between your folds like it was your hand. The tip catches your sensitive bundle of nerves repeatedly, making you dizzier than you already were.

He presses back into you with ease, resuming his sloppy but animalistic pace. He uses his thumb to continue your handywork, your cunt fluttering around him needily. You’re both losing your sanity quickly, both going batshit insane over the bare minimum. You’ve just needed this for so long, yearned for this moment for a humiliating amount of time.

Your moans start to rise in pitch and he groans. “Fuck, baby, you can cum for me.”

He could cry, he thinks, when your back arches and your legs shake with your orgasm. It hits you like a freight train, triggering his own release just as fast.

You stay like that for a bit, regaining yourselves and comprehending everything that’s just happened. So much for the whole hating each other narrative.

“What does this mean for us?” You suddenly ask, arms hooked around Kevin’s neck. You’re still connected by your lower halves, but he makes no effort to pull away. Part of you likes it that way, it gives you hope that this isn’t a one time affair.

“It’ll be hard for things to change overnight,” he says, massaging your sides. “We have a lot of unresolved issues and insecurities that we still have to push past. But I’m willing to do that with you. I want to take a chance on us.”

Your lips pull into a smile, an expression you don’t think you’ve worn around him genuinely in the years you’ve known him. “I do, too.”

“It’s kind of ironic that it was a performance that tore us apart and brought us back together, don’t you think?” He laughs.

“And we fucked in the dressing room…” You add, glancing to the top corner where a security camera is stationed.

“Maybe we should get out of here before someone checks the footage,” he suggests. “Tau Beta Zeta is conveniently hosting our end of semester party tonight, do you wanna be my plus one?”

“I would be honored.” You grin, pecking his lips tenderly.

Perhaps happy endings existed after all.

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Typical Stark - Chapter 9

A/N: A series nobody saw coming indeed. We’re approaching the final chapter now. There’s a LOT happening in this one.. Leave a comment, like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Warnings: 18+ fluffy smut, lil bit of angst?

Word count: 2.3k

Typical Stark Masterlist

.

“Oh my fucking God! Don’t stop!” you cried, fingers gripping the sheets beneath you like vice while Tony’s fingers curled inside your tight heat, finding just the spot that made you see stars.

He held your hips in place, nipping the skin over your pubic bone to keep them from involuntarily rising above the bed. The way your body reacted to him, the way your walls clamped around his fingers, the sweet, sweet sounds that left your lips, the man was enjoying every last second of it. He kept at his ministrations until you were pushed over the edge for the second time that night, gushing all over his fingers while your thighs shook with the pleasure that pulsed through.

With a sudden change of position, he laid on his back, taking you with him; gently but firmly guiding your core over his mouth until you were left straddling the man’s face. You didn’t think you could take it, but Tony seemed too determined to deny it.

“Tony, I don’t think I can…” your voice betrayed you there, lust laden and weak, you sounded too unlike yourself.

“I know you can, sweetheart. You’ve got another one in there for me. Come on, you said I’m your favourite toy, didn’t you? Use me.” His big brown eyes swum with such passion and want, you found yourself lowering your hips and carding your fingers through his soft hair, using it like your anchor.

Tony’s mouth latched onto your oversensitive clit, sending waves of pleasure down your body, the familiar pressure building deep within your belly. The man was too skilled.

You hadn’t experienced the kind of desire or pleasure with your previous lovers. Tony was attentive and giving in bed, smug, sure, but un-fucking-believable. Nothing would ever come close.

Gripping your thighs firmly, he lapped at your cunt, allowing you to ride his face as you pleased, his tongue expertly coaxing yet another orgasm out of you. You came loud and hard, grabbing the headboard for support while your body went lax against him.

“You’re unreal, you know that?” you whispered, cheeks reddening looking at his glistening lips as you fell onto your back, unable to do much else given how spent you were.

“Oh I know. But I am all yours.” He murmured, climbing back in bed once he was done cleaning up.

“That you are. All mine.” you agreed, draping your sheets over the two of you and snuggling close. Your heart swelled with pride every time Tony mentioned he belonged to you, and you to him.

What started as a simple wine and dine date for two of you two weeks after you moved in together had turned into a rather naughty night.

Not that you were complaining.

.

“Okay, I can be there in twenty minutes? Give or take.” you spoke assertively on the phone to Nick Fury, pacing about in the living room of your shared apartment while your boyfriend followed you like a puppy, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Certainly. I’ll see you there, boss.”

Once you were done, you were met with expectant doe eyes which instantly brought a smile to your face.

“I’ve been summoned to HQ. Something about classified files that need urgent sorting. And no, nobody with a lower pay grade can do it. Fury insisted it has to be me, so it looks like it's gonna be a long day for me.”

You answered one of Tony’s questions that you saw forming in his genius brain, walking over to the man to kiss the pout off his lips.

“Fiinee. I’ll be in my lab blowing things up. Text me if you need saving.” he winked, rubbing your arms up and down before pulling you in for a kiss goodbye.

“I will. And don’t miss me too much, Stark.” you murmured, toying with the ends of his slightly longer hair.

“That I can’t do, sweetheart.”

.

At the headquarters, you were assigned with sorting archived hard copies of Hydra files since there was a data breach in the system, Fury needed all hands on deck and it was very well going to be an all-nighter.

Tony texted you every so often, keeping you entertained in between your otherwise boring work at hand.

That was until a sudden interruption outside. A flurry of people and hushed murmurs and discussions made you hurry downstairs to where Fury was.

The large screen promptly displayed what the furor was about; a hostage situation at the Grand Central Terminal caused several panicked citizens to scramble out of the place while several gunshot sounds echoed, which you hoped to God weren’t aimed at any innocent lives.

Nick Fury stood with his hands behind his back, as usual, watching the scene unfold calmly, almost like he were watching a movie.

“What’s happening, boss? Who are these men? Hydra?” You exclaimed, watching in horror as more bullets were fired followed closely by screams and shrieks of the people they had captured.

“Looks like it. Don’t worry, Y/L/N, I’ve got the lead of my boy band taking care of them.” He nodded, giving you his signature look.

As if on cue, your boyfriend flew in, landing right outside the station in a pose that almost made you roll your eyes. Such a show off.

Soon after, you watched Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff jump into action, carefully guiding the hostage civilians out to safety while Stark zoomed in and out of the footage available for you.

It was always a thrill watching Iron Man in action, the man was a sight and he knew it. Before you got to know him, you’d roll your eyes at his ostentatious nature, this time around though, you felt a sense of pride as you watched your man take down the bad guys.

And then, something happened in a fraction of a second that felt like an eternity to you.

Tony had half stepped out of his suit and taken one step down the stairs when a bomb detonated. The blast flung him in the air and you could do nothing but watch as he landed in rubble. You felt the air being knocked out of your lungs as he lay there unconscious, injured, barely breathing.

He had to be alive. He had to be.

Getting out of HQ and to the infirmary where Tony was brought in was all a blur, you were on autopilot and it all seemed to be happening too quickly and too slow all at once. He had been taken into emergency surgery, shrapnel had damaged his arc reactor and it had to be removed.

You paced outside the operating room, trying your level best to keep it together and not crumble on the floor.

He would make it, he had to.

Tony had been strong enough to survive in a cave in Afghanistan, he would be strong enough to survive this as well. You kept repeating it to yourself.

The doctors walked out of the operating room a couple of hours later, giving you a squeeze on your shoulder.

“He’s fine, Miss Y/L/N. A broken rib and several contusions to his body. We had to remove the arc reactor from his chest along with the shrapnel that had been lodged all those years ago. His heart is safe now. He’s resting.”

After what seemed like a long, long while, you breathed a sigh of relief, thanking them for saving his life. Your heart thumped as you made your way inside the ICU, you’d always hated hospitals. They rarely brought happy memories back.

It would still be a couple of days before he was permitted visitors, a glance through the glass window was all you were allowed for now. Tears pooled in your eyes at the sight of him lying in bed with tubes and IVs hooked onto him. All the bandages made him look smaller in the bed as he breathed evenly, eyes closed and a peaceful expression on his battered face.

But he was alive.

…

You refused to move from his bedside, now that the doctors had allowed you inside, you spent your time reading to him, holding his hand and feeling his pulse, hoping he’d open his beautiful brown eyes for you.

Grabbing a coffee for yourself, you looked at your reflection in the mirror you passed in his room, dark circles under your eyes conveyed lack of sleep.

“Hey gorgeous.”

Tony’s croaky voice reached your ears before you turned to see him offer you a weak smile. Tears that you had strictly kept at bay for so many days threatened to spill from your eyes as you hurried next to him, taking his hand on yours.

“Tony! You’re awake. How–how’re you feeling?” you cried, letting the tears fall freely as you kissed the back of his hand softly.

“Besides the fact that I’m bruised like a peach, I’m fabulous. I missed you.”

You chuckled at his admission, allowing him to wipe your tears with slightly trembling hands. Perching yourself on the edge of his bed, you leaned down to give him a soft kiss against his lips, feeling him smile against yours.

“Have you slept at all? You look terrible.” he commented with a smirk, albeit his voice was full of worry.

“You’re one to talk, Stark. You need a good scrub down, and a shave.” You teased back, running your fingers over his stubble, your heart full of love as Tony leaned into your touch, turning his head to kiss your palm.

“I was so scared, Tony.” you whispered, a few unshed tears escaping down your cheeks as you touched your forehead to his.

“I’m right here, honey. Right here with you.” he murmured, cupping your face tenderly, reassuring you of his presence while you nodded.

He was really here, with you. And he was safe.

.

Your fingers were tracing the scar that now marked the former housing place for Tony’s arc reactor, a reminder of all the things he’d been through. Tony laid his head against his hand while the other caressed your back, pressing kisses against your hair while you two caught your breath.

Under normal circumstances, Tony was chatty after sex, either talking about the randomest of things or you’d be convincing him for a little nap. However, his energy felt different today, nervous, almost apprehensive. You could sense it by the way his foot tapped against the entangled sheets and the way his fingers stopped midway along your naked skin, as if pausing to think before he resumed.

“Tones…”

“Yeah?”

“What’s wrong? You’re awfully quiet today.” you murmured, placing your chin under your hand as you looked up at him.

“Nothing’s wrong, um. I’m good, growing old maybe. I’m tired.” He tried making a joke but you weren’t buying it, giving him a look that made him sigh and sit up against the headboard.

“I’ve been thinking. That blow-up made me realize how fleeting time is. I couldn’t imagine what you must’ve gone through, what I would’ve done if God forbid you were in my situation, you know? God knows our jobs aren’t exactly ‘safe’.”

His hold on you tightened unconsciously, making you press a soft kiss against his cheek, encouraging him to continue.

“I love you more than I could ever imagine loving someone, Y/N and I don’t want to spend any more time apart. Waking up next to you is my favorite thing in the whole world, hearing about your day, ranting to you about mine, and the sex? I mean, I

could go on and on and on…”

You giggled, stopping his rambling by covering his mouth with your hand, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. Tony gently peeled your hand away, kissing the back of it before holding it over his heart, letting you feel his steady heartbeat. You swore your heart was about to beat its way out of your ribcage any minute now, given where Tony’s speech was going.

“Basically what I’m trying to say is, my former battery-operated heart belongs to you now. You’re my home. So Y/N Y/L/N, would you do me the honor of dancing with me naked in our bedroom right now?”

Your breath almost hitched until he said what he did, taking you by surprise yet again.

Did you even hear it right?

“What?” you sounded too unlike yourself as Tony stifled a smirk, wrapping the sheets around your bodies and guiding you out of bed, pulling you flush against his chest and gently swaying you both.

“I want to do exactly this, now and forever. You and me. What do you say? Think you can handle me for the rest of your life?”

His eyes held all the honesty you were looking for, big brown orbs swimming with love as he flashed you his winning smile, waiting for you to answer.

“Oh, I can handle you alright. I love you Anthony Edward Stark. But only for the mind-blowing sex.” you teased, letting out a yelp when he playfully slapped your butt.

He dipped his head down to meet your lips in a kiss that made you swoon. All the words unsaid were conveyed in the kiss and all the unasked questions went answered. .

“What? No ‘typical Stark’ this time?” Tony mumbled against your lips, carding his fingers through your hair and brushing your nose with his.

“Shut up and kiss me, Stark.”

“Yes ma’am.”

…

What do we think???!!!

[mzblkauthor]

Bliss

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

Plug!SunaXStoner!blackreader

Warnings: Smoking, and cussing.

WC:1.5k

Summary: You decide to hang with Atsumu's friends and one happens to have the best weed you've ever smoked

Genre: I honestly don't know

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

You ain’t know what was wrong with you. Probably cause you were high as hell and had the munchies. “Girl lets go you bout high as hell,” currently you were at a party at Atsumu’s house and your bestie ,Kiyoko, was the designated driver and she couldn’t stand seeing you high out your mind while any nigga there would try to take of advantage of you. “Now you know damn well you’re the one that dragged me here. Don’t blame me for enjoying the party in my own way,” you told her scrunching your face up. But, you got up anyway cause ain't no way you bout to listen to her complain and blow your high. The music was fuzzy in your ears and every time you took a step it felt like you were walking on water. Yeah it's time for you to go home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Timeskip~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yesterday… was something. You ain't have a headache but almost everything was a blur. Definitely got a little too high. Fuck. “I hope I ain't did something I regret.” Getting up to go get some food you heard your phone somewhere in your sheets. Then after patting down what seems like your whole bed you finally found it and answered the phone call. 

‘YYYY////NNNN’

“Bitch wtf why you moaning my name. You must like me huh,”

‘Girl-’

“ Its aight babygirl I know you luh me. Less fuck then get eloped”

‘Whoa first off I gotta boyfriend so we can’t get eloped second what you need in your life is some dick you horny freaky kinky fuck talking bout marriage and fucking. Girl bye’

“Fuck that nigga Tanaka. I can give so much more but you over here worried bout that bald ass wigga jigga boo.”

‘Whatever I’m loyal to my man. We for real locked in tight like a bootyhole’

“Ew fuck off my phone with that nasty ass shit. Ain't nobody asked what Tanaka’s little freaky ass likes in bed. He prolly like to be fucked instead of doing the fucking.”

‘Shut the fuck up’

“You shut the fuck up”

‘Aight I gotta go I luh you’

“Aight I love you too”

Hanging up the phone you saw a big tittied bitch getting fucked  from the back. Woah. Your horny ass forgot to exit out of it yesterday “Damn I guess I do need dick in my life,” Closing the tab and heading downstairs you decided to make yourself some toast with hella butter cause that shit be hitting different when you first wake up. As you turned on the TV and got ready to chill for the rest of the day. You got a text message from Kiyoko.

Be ready in 30 mins We going to atsumus to hang   Why i need to go???? Cause Tanaka wanna go and i dont wanna b by myself Plus you know them That doesnt mean i wanna go There’ll be weed. Dam u makin me seem like a feen  Add in food and ill go Bet.

Groaning you got up and turned off the tv. After finishing your toast you went to get ready and chose a cute little outfit cause Atsumu be having fine ass friends. It was a spiderman crop top with jeans and your favorite spiderman beanie. You was looking mad cute but not like you was trying to hard. Cause you aint stunting no-mf-body. BEEP BEEP. “COME ON BITCH LETS GO,” the ghetto. You grabbed your bag and hurried to get your stuff. “Charger, phone, keys, pen, wallet, headphones” you told yourself going down the checklist of things you always put in your bag before you leave the house. You turned all the lights off and headed for the car after locking the door on your way out. “You know you coulda just texted me right,” 

“Yeah but I didn’t want to”

Straight facing  her you then nodded to Tanaka in the rearview mirror and closed the car door. No matter how much shit you talked about Tanaka you knew he was a cool dude yall just like to mess with each other hella. You put your headphones on and enjoyed the ride.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Timeskip~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before even walking through the doors you were hit with the smell of za. There wasn’t a lot of people, maybe like 8 and you only knew 3 of them. Didn’t really matter though cause they were to high too notice you for real. 

“Y/N!”

Well now they did. Atsumu’s loud ass had to yell your name. Bro don’t ever know how to talk swear, you awkwardly waved and sat on the couch closest to the door.  “What’er you doin here? I ain't knew you were coming, if I did ya know I woulda gotten ready or whateva,” he was high as fuck whenever you two would get high together he always would be a flirt way more than he usually was. That's why you stopped smoking with him. He was a little too flirty for your liking. “Boy please ain't nobody worried bout you. Where’s your brother?” you told him casually brushing him off and changing the subject. “He’s in the kitchen where he always is. But you tryna roll up?”  

This tall green eyed dude cleared his throat while looking at Atsumu with his face scrunched up. He was fine like something you never seen before. His tattoo’s were hot as hell in the lighting. It looked like a whole story on his arm and you wanted to ask about it but decided not to. And his eyes were somehow fox-like and the lips. God the lips. At this point you were just checking him out. Literally from the piercings lining his ears to his uncreased forces. 

“Y/N!”

Slowly tuning back into the conversation and looking at Atsumu you asked him “Why you always yelling?” 

“Maybe its cause you over there eye fucking Suna instead of paying attention,” he told you while taking a hit from the blunt. “Just cause I was looking that way doesn’t mean I was checking him out.  Jealousy isn’t a good look on you booboo now what do you want,” you said rolling your eyes. Honestly on the inside you were embarrassed hella cause who wouldn’t be. “Well I was gonna ask if you wanna roll up,” you turned back to ‘Suna’, looked him in the eyes and asked “If it's ok with you..”

He nodded and took another hit, eyes not leaving yours. Fuck. He was fine as hell. Atsumu passed you the tray which already had everything you needed on it. Then you were in your zone, starting grinding, pouring, then rolling it all up. His eyes stayed on you. You felt it and with chase Atlantic playing in the background it made the vibe feel even better. Next thing you knew you licked the paper and closed the ends. You did pretty damn good for it being on the spot. “Roller gets first hit,” some white haired dude said tossing you the lighter. You said thanks while putting the blunt between your lips and lighting it. 

Holy shit.

 After 3 good hits and 30 minutes you were already up there. It felt as if your whole body was tingling and you knew if you were to get up you’d probably stumble a little bit. “Is this shit laced?” you said to nobody in particular.

“Nah, Suna’s shit is just strong,” the white haired dude said laughing and shaking his head.

Then as if  he teleported in an apron Osamu called your name. “Y/n, I didn’t know you were here,”

You smiled up at him “ Yeah I knew you were in there cooking and I ain’t wanna bother you,” he kissed his teeth and then rolled his eyes.

Gesturing for you to get up he said “You know I don’t give a fuck about that shit next time come say hi. And gimmie a hug,”  You got up ,without stumbling, and gave him a big hug. You and Osamu were mad cool like literally yall would meet almost every week.

“How come you don’t greet me like that when I come through the door?” it was the white haired dude who said that. You ain't know who the fuck that nigga was.

“Whatever, ignore him. Did Atsumu already introduce everybody?” You looked at Atsumu who was scratching his head and then shook your head no.

After he introduced everybody you had the munchies and wanted the food Kiyoko promised. But looking over you saw that she was knocked out on Tanaka’s shoulder.  You put your headphones on and got up to go get some food low-key annoyed at the fact that you had to get up. You went to get water from the fridge and put some onigiri on a paper towel. Then sat on the counter as you got Brent Faiyaz pulled up. Whenever you were high you had to listen to music cause it felt like a journey that no one else could experience. Like the artist was talking specifically for you and only you. And Brent did that every time. So, it was just you swinging your legs on the counter while eating your onigiri while the music pulled you into a certain bliss that couldn't be replicated from anything else.

"Excuse me," you paused your chewing and stopped swinging your legs. It felt almost like a record scratch because the voice was deep as hell. You're gazed trailed from his feet to his eyes, it was obvious you were checking him out but, you were too high to give a fuck. "Excuse me," he said once again.

This time you answered, "Do you need something?" you asked while tilting your head and taking an earbud out.

He licked his lips and made his way to you "I was wondering if you wanted to come around next time we did something like this," now he was crossing his arms and leaning against the counter in front of you. He was confident. But, you couldn't tell if he was naturally like this or if the weed was a big factor of the way he was acting now. Fuck it, you thought. He was fine as hell but, you don't wanna seem easy.

"I don't know, I mean I don't even know you," you told him sweeping your eyes over his mouth "and if I do pull up. Will I have to pay? I don't wanna smoke up all your shit, that would be rude." This time you were staring at him in his eyes. Just like yours they were red and low. You knew what you were doing and so did he.

He smirked and said "As long as you roll up there wouldn't be a problem. I'm always the one rolling up it'd be nice for there to be a change."

You shrugged, "I'll think about it," telling him as you resumed kicking your legs. He pushed himself off the counter and in 2 strides was in front of you. He crouched down to your eye level and leaned forward to your ear.

"I don't think you understand," he was so close you could hear his mouth move "I want you there," his scent was overwhelming. You took a deep breath which caused your chest to press into him. You weren't wearing a bra. He noticed too, you could tell by the whisper of his laugh.

You brought your hand to his neck and slid it up to his hair. He moved his head away from your ear and stared at you, eye to eye. You bit your lip and clutched his hair at the nape of his neck.

Then tugging it lightly you told him, "I said, I'll think about it, I don't give a damn if you want me there or not." You gently pushed him back and jumped off the counter, then made your way back into the living room.

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

AN: Are yall messing with this? And should I make this into a series?

Cause I feel like only a little bit was really Sunaxblackreader.

[p4rtygetsmewetterrrr]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔

black reader x ony

WARNING:Smut,Jealousy,Choking,Slight arguing,Mentions of violence,not proof-read,fingering

"I gave it all for a fantasy,Is anybody gon' remember me?If i go tonight,I doubt the world'll change I just pray they don't forget my name."you sung jumping around the room

"Why you listening to this nigga?"Your cousin Javi asked busting in your room with your other cousin janiya right behind him.

"cause i can"you say smartly rolling your eyes

"He toxic as fuck no wonder you cant keep a nigga."He laughs

"Aye he sexy so i don't blame you cousin shit id let him treat me however."Janiya smiles dabbing you up while javi just looks at you and her in disgust.

"We locked in"You cheese with your tongue out.

Your music pauses once again,you roll your eyes already knowing it was some boy you gave your number at the party yesterday.

"Who keep blowing your phone up like that?"Janiya asks you

"Some nigga i met at this party"You shrugged declining the call

"What happened to Ony."Janiya asked while Javi frowns at you

"You thuggin"he said laid laughing

"Whats and who's a ony,girl fuck him."You frowned causing her to frown.

"damn what he did?"She asked and you just sho your head.

You and ony weren't on speaking terms at the moment.2 days ago you caught him in your homeboys kitchen giggling with some girl who seemed to be flirting.He wasnt your boyfriend butit sure did feel like you and him had something going on.So you got your lickback at the party yesterday dancing on the boy you met.

"Ion wanna talk about him"You shrugged you didn't like telling your buisness to nobody especially not about your love life

"Well what happened with the boy from the party?"She asked

"He clingy,I just gave him my number last night and he already acting like my man.He get mad when i don't text him back fast and got mad when i didn't answer his calls"

"Girl you being dramatic."Janiya says shaking her head.Your phone started buzzing and you rolled your eyes.

Maybe:Onyy☺️💓

iMessage

Maybe:Onyy☺️💓

Bring yo ass outside

I'm straight,go home

Either yo come here or

im coming in thea .

It been what 3 days and now you wanna talk lmaooo ion. wanna talk fomf😘

Read at 9:45pm

You sighed locked your phone before leaning back on your bed.Javi and Janiya was just making videos in your vanity.You closed your eyes tuning in to the song playing,poison by brent.

"Ima need yall to get the fuck out."You heard causing your eyes to pop open and you sat up quickly.

"Who the fuck is you?"Javi asked looking at ony who just mugged him.

"Who you bitch?"Ony asked finna step up to Javi,you hopped out your bed standing in the middle of them

"Whatchu tryna do?"Javi said tryna push you out the way

"Move Javi."Janiya said grabbing him

"Whatchu mean move how that nigga get in here anyway."Javi said mugging ony who was smirking at Javi.You rolled your eyes and grabbed Ony's arm dragging him to the guest room.

"How the fuck you got in my house?"you asked pushing his chest.

"Apartment."He corrected and you swear you wanted to sock the shig out if him."Don't ask me no stupid questions."He said stale facing you

"How the fuck i'm asking dumb questions and you literally just broke into my house."You snapped

"That's exactly what the fuck i did,like i said dumb questions."He said looking at you like you was dumb

"Well leave the same way you came in the fuck."You said mugging him.He stared at you before making a clicking sound with his teeth.

"You a funny ass person you know that?"He asked you and you shrugged raising your eyebrow as he started pointing at you.

"And you must don't love yo life at all."He added putting his hand down stepping closer to you.Within two seconds you were slammed in the wall with ony's hand around your throat.

"Cause yo dumbass must've forgot who the fuck you talking to."He said mugging you

"Now fix yo attitude niggas came to have a civilized conversation with yo ass."He said letting you go.You couldn't lie to say his around your throat made you a little bothered.

"Now fuck is yo problem!"He asked staring into your soul

"3 days and now you wanna know what my problem is."You mug him hard.

"I was giving you your space for whatever reason you were mad for."He shrugged

"So youn know what the problem is?"You rolled your eyes at him.

"If i knew why the fuck would i be asking?"He smacked his teeth

"Because you know im feeling you and you were just leading me on."You admitted

He started chuckling a little bit shaking his head.

"Ion understand yall females,do i look like a mind reader y/n how the fuck ima know you feeling me if youn tell me."He said annoyed

"By my actions,how the hell you got me doing girlfriend shit and not know that im feeling you."You said frustrated ony was not using his context clues

"Y/n how many times you talk about you having hoes,if i was feeling somebody i damn sho wouldn't say anything bout no hoes."He said amused glaring at you

"Females entertain people shen they bored so hell you could've been bored and just entertaining me.If im one of yo hoes you damn sho gone be one of mines."Je shrugged

"You a real dummy cause i was just joking anytime i said something bout hoes,you were the only person i was talking to and i damn sho don't let nobody fuck me.You basically just saying i'm one of yo hoes."you said chuckling in disbelief.

How could he disrespect you like that when in reality he initiated yalls communication first.

"First off yo dumb ass was the only person i was talking to.You outta everybody should know ion fuck with people."He said mugging you

"Okay but you was entertaining a bitch though make it make sense."You frowned

"Ain't nobody stunting that bitch.Y/n if you want me just say that shit instead of tryna get me to read yo mind cause that shit aint gone work."He said walking closer to you making you feel all queazy.He walked closer backing you up into the wall.

"you want me y/n?"He asked you lowly licking his lips as your bodies touched.You didn't say anything as your breath got caught in your throat.

"I need a answer."He said impatiently

"yes."you say lowly

"Good,cause i wasn't taking no for a answer."As he crashed his lips into yours

Part 2?🌝

[hockeynoses]

Sick!Steve & platonic Chrissy: A College AU

Happy (Horny) Holidays!

Summary: Steve and Chrissy have a class together and Steve shows up with a terrible cold. The sequel is here!

Warnings: Mess, Contagion. 1.6k.

Notes: I wrote this as platonic Steve & Chrissy, but feel free to take it however you want. I felt like writing something from a woman’s perspective for a change. This is just another excuse to have Steve go through all my favorite kinky phrases about being sick. 😈

This story has two lines that pull from some posts on snzblr... One is from the “mess talk” post by sneezysubbyboi, and the other is the “I think I’m getting worse” post by poor-darling. Thank you for the inspiration!

---

Chrissy sits in the back of the lecture hall, idly doodling in her notebook. The desk next to her is empty, and she’s keeping an eye on the situation. Nobody has tried to sit there yet; at this point in the semester everyone sits in the same seats out of habit. She wonders what’s taking Steve so long.

They had met for the first time in class, had happened to sit next to each other on the first day. Since then, they’ve gotten to know each other well. Sharing notes, helping out with difficult homework assignments, and even collaborating on a group project.

The professor is so strict about attendance, and Chrissy really hopes that Steve isn’t about to blow this for himself. He already has close to the allowed max of no-shows.

Just as she’s about to get her phone out to text him, she sees him scurry over out of the corner of her eye.  He plops his backpack down on the floor, letting himself fall into his chair gracelessly. He’s nearly out of breath and must’ve run to get here on time.

“You made it!” Chrissy says, relieved.

“I did,” he says, still panting. “Thagk god.”

Now that she’s able to get a better look at him, she can see that his nose is bright red. His face is flushed from his run and the winter weather, but this seems like it might be something more.

He shrugs his jacket off, the shoulders dusted with snowflakes that have now melted into tiny damp spots. He runs a hand through his hair, grateful that it’s not too wet from the snow. Shivering the chill weather out of his system and soaking up the heat inside the lecture hall, he rubs his hands together to warm them.

“Did you run here?” she asks even though she knows the answer already.

“Yeah.” He sniffs and wipes his nose on the back of his hand. “I slept in by acciden’d. I cad’t believe I albost m’bissed another class.”

He does look tired, Chrissy thinks. The puzzle pieces start to slot together when Steve pulls out a full-sized box of tissues from his backpack and sets it on his desk.

“Um…” she says, eyeing the box curiously.

“Ugh, I amb so sick,” he says miserably, confirming her suspicions.

“Oh no!” She gives a sympathetic frown. “It does seem like there’s always something going around this time of year.”

“Yeah, like all of bmy roobmates are sick right n’dow,” he says as he pulls his first tissue from the box. “Itd was on’dly a matter of time’b.”

He takes a deep breath and blows his nose. Chrissy winces at the full, crackling sound. People are still chatting around them, so the noise isn’t carrying like it will when the class is silently listening to the teacher. Still, Steve doesn’t seem to be too self-conscious about it. Maybe he’s too sick to care at this point. Chrissy tries to imagine herself attending class with an entire box of tissues on her desk and doesn’t think she’d have the guts.

“Bad timing, with finals coming up,” she says.

“Right?” He drops the soiled tissue on his desk and reaches for another one. “I really don’d have time’b to be sick ri-ihhh-ght SNF right dow- hih’EHTSSCHHH!” She can hear the congestion gushing into the tissue and raises her eyebrows at him.

“Whoa, you really don’t sound good, Steve,” she says. “You should probably be at home in bed. Did you ask the professor about it?”

Steve wipes his chapped nose with the tissue a couple times. “D’no, I didn’t even try. You k’dnow how strict he is. Idt probably wouldn’t have worked and’yway. Heh…hh’ERSSSHHHoo!” He curls forward with the strength of it.

“You could have tried, at least…”

Gathering up the soggy tissues, he shoves them in an empty compartment in his backpack. He grabs his notepad and pen and sets them on what little space is left on his desk.

She hears the scrape of cotton against cardboard as he pulls another kleenex from the box in preparation. Giving another waterlogged sniffle and scrubbing his nose with his palm, he says, “I really couldn’t mbiss anod’ther class. I – heh…eh…hih’KKSSSHHHuh! Ugh.” He groans and clears his throat. “If I have to take this class againd I’ll lose mby bmind.”

“You sound so bad,” Chrissy says, “If I’d have known, I would have brought you tea or something.”

His glassy, tired eyes meet hers with a kind look. “Thaggs, Chrissy.” He keeps the tissue pressed to his nose as he snuffles into it. “I’ll be alrighd’t, though.”

“If you say so…” she says with a compassionate look. From what she already knows of Steve, he’s a strong guy and can power through a lot of stuff. She wishes he didn’t have to, though.

“I wend to the campus clinic to get checked out and they said it was juu-huhhh… hih… HA-AETTCCCHHuh!  SNF – Jusdt a bad cold.” That one looked particularly messy, and she watches him clean himself up before reaching for a fresh tissue to bury his nose into, unleashing a gurgling blow in an attempt to clear out his sinuses. She figures it’s a futile effort at this point.

“Ugh, sorry these are so b’messy. I can’t even do an’dything aboud idt.” He gives a productive sniffle, as if to prove his point. “I’ve been’d so stuffed up for like, days. Heh...ha-ERRIISSSHHHoo! ISSSHHH’IEW!” Two harsh sneezes covered successfully by a bundle of kleenex, followed by another long-suffering blow. The poor boy looks miserable.

A chair creaks to their right and they both look over. The guy who had been sitting in the desk next to Steve has gathered his things up and is sneaking off to a safer area far, far away. Steve pouts internally as his ego takes a hit, but he can’t really blame him. He turns back to Chrissy and they share a look.

“You probably don’t wadda sit so close to be. Nod whed’n I’b thi-ihhh-ss…ha… hih’ERRSHOO! …sick,” he finishes, groaning into the tissue.

“I’ll take my chances,” she says with a warm smile. Having grown up with siblings, there isn’t a lot that grosses her out, and at this point she doesn’t know how much difference a couple feet of distance would make anyway.

“If you’re sure,” he says with a liquid sniffle. “Ha-KISSHH-ahh!” Another relentless sneeze that ends on a long, drawn-out sigh. “’Scuse be,” he says, voice breathless and deep. He gives a couple soft blows into the mass of tissues before scraping back and forth at his damp nostrils.

“I really don’d wand to get anyond else sick because this is the worst cold I’ve -heh- ehhh-ver h-had- Hih’RIIISHHuh!” His head snaps forward into the waiting bundle of spent tissues. “SNF! Ugh, sorry. They’re really loud, too,” he says, right before a wretched noseblow that he seems surprisingly unconcerned about the volume of.

Chrissy’s eyes dart around the room, taking note of a couple judgmental glances directed towards him. She offers them an apologetic smile on his behalf. Steve, however, seems undaunted, his sorry state causing him to be distracted and blasé about the whole thing.

“At least at this poindt I’ve gotten preddy good at covering thebm.” Gesturing to the soaked tissues in his hand, he crumples them up into a ball before leaning over to hide them away in his backpack.

A laugh bubbles out of her. “Well, that’s something at least. Practice makes perfect?”

Steve nods, “And I’ve had a lod of pracdice.” Sitting back up, he drags the back of his hand under his raw nose, already dripping again. “It’s a good thing too… snrk because these are so fugking bmessy…iihh…” A hazy look crosses his face as he scrubs his palm across the tip of his nose, trying to dispel the pesky itch. “Shitd – ndot hiihh- agaidn!”  He fumbles for a tissue, cupping his bare hand over his face just in time to contain a wet, spraying, “Hih’KKISSH-ah!” that bursts out of him. “God, sorry, that one cambe out of nowhere.”

She barely gets a glimpse of his palm, covered in tendrils of mess before he’s able to mop it all up with a tissue. He sets the wet kleenex on his desk and closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers in an effort to massage the pressure out of his sinuses.

A glazed look crosses his features. “I thigk rudding here in the snow is m’baking by cold- heh… worse! …ehh… heh’EHRUSSHHoo! ihh’TTSCHH! hiiih’AETTCHHuh!” The full-bodied sneezes rip through him, leaving him gasping for breath. Not having enough time to cover, he’d twisted away from Chrissy, openly spraying the space to his right; the seat their classmate had luckily just vacated.

That guy dodged a bullet, Chrissy thinks as she tries to control the look of shock on her face.

“Shit, sorry!” Covering his face with his cupped hand, (A little late for that, she thinks,) he pulls two tissues from the box. He gets halfway through blowing his nose before he’s interrupted by another scraping double- “Hep’TSCCHOO!  Huh…heh’YEETTCHH’tshoo!”

He sighs, groaning in defeat, face still buried in the bundle of cotton. “Baybe I should justd keeb these over mby face this whole tim’be,” he says, gesturing with the already soggy bunch of tissues pressed to his face. “Mby dose is rudding so buch I don’t even have a choice- hih’EHTIISSHH!” The sneeze bursts from him so suddenly that he surely wouldn’t have been able to cover in time if he hadn’t already been doing so.

“I think that’s the only option you have left, at this point…” Chrissy says, settling in for what was sure to be an eventful lecture.

[harlowsbby]

urban doing an instagram live and everyone asks to see his girlfriend

Talk Of The Town

Urban wasn’t the famous one but to a lot of the fans in the fandom he was and they were just as obsessed with Jack’s life as they were with Urban’s life.

Jack was out doing soundcheck all day leaving only Urban and You back at the hotel. Urban was bored and decided to go live on Instagram to talk to a few fans here and there and answer any questions they had.

“What’s going on guys, how are you guys doing?” Urban smiled and shook his head at some of the comments some people asking if he’d marry them or kiss them some even asked if he’d sell his left kidney to them.

“I’m sorry guys I can’t marry you or go on a date with you and I’m sure I need my left kidney but I got a girl so I don’t think she’d be so thrilled with me going on a date with anybody but her.” His eyes lit up with mischief watching how all his fans started blowing up the live asking who this mystery girl was that took him away and saying how lucky she is to have him.

“Oh she’s very lucky too have me but most of the time she doesn’t think so.” Urban sighed dramatically making you shake your head from the other room, you were mid makeup tutorial when you got the notification that Urban went live.

Urban and You met back in California when Jack was filming for White Men Can’t Jump you were actually at the park with your friends in your mini summer dress your friend gifted you awhile back, you guys always had picnics during the summer and it was a beautiful and breezy day in California that day.

You remember laying on-top of the picnic blanket some Sza playing in the background the sun shining on you and your friend when suddenly something or more like someone blocked the sun.

“Uh I’m sorry to interrupt you guys but this is actually a closed set and I was told to tell you guys to leave..” You furrowed your brows in confusion, a Kentucky accent? In California you must be day dreaming.

“A closed set? Nobody told us it was a closed set and besides we just got here we aren’t leaving.” Kiya your friend barked back at the man with long hair but his friend who had braids wasn’t having it.

“Look it’s only gonna be for a few minutes till they get this shot and then you guys can have your spots back but until then we need this area.” You we’re watching Kiya and the guy whose name you found out was 2fo argue back and forth over leaving and not leaving when you felt eyes on you, looking up you saw his friend the one with the long dirty blonde hair looking at you he blushed when he noticed you caught him looking.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Urban. What’s your name.”

“My name is Y/N I’m sorry about my friend we’ll just pack our stuff and go.” You went to back up everything but Urban stuck his hand out stopping you.

“Honestly it’s okay you guys can stay I think that spot over there would be better to shot at anyways.” 2fo gave Urban a confused look but Urban looked at you with his eyes and 2fo immediately understood.

“Oh yeah yeah we’ll just tell them the spot over there is way better sorry ladies.” Lilly rolled her eyes as 2fo winked at her and went to walk away Urban smiled one last time and went to leave as well but you stopped him.

“Oh uh Urban if you don’t mind can I get your number?” You asked bashfully he smirked and took your phone putting his number in and hanging it back.

“Call or text me whenever shawty.” You remember later that night you ended up texting Urban the both of you stayed up till 3 in the morning talking about anything and everything.

“Can we see your girlfriend?” One of the questions on the live read making Urban shrug his shoulders and call out for you.

“Babe come on here the fans wanna see you.” You’ve been keeping your relationship with Urban quiet not for his sake but for your sake the last thing you wanted was a bunch of his fans messaging you and sending you rude and nasty things.

Placing down your makeup brushed you walked into the living room area where Urban had his phone propped up against some books that were meant for decor he grinned seeing you enter the room.

“You look beautiful ma.” He stepped out the frame as you got closer you sat on his lap his arms wrapping around you tightly.

What Urban didn’t see was that everyone was going crazy at the nickname he had given you.

“The fans wanna see this so called mystery girl that took me away, but only if you’re ready to show yourself.” Honestly you always felt bad for hiding your relationship with Urban mainly because you knew he loved pda and because he just wanted to show you off already.

“I’m ready Urb.” He was surprised by your answer because he knew how private you were but he smiled before reaching for the phone.

“Alright guys you’re about to see the most beautiful girl in the world my baby.” You smiled before coming into the frame yours and Urban’s face now on the screen. He smiled reading some of the comments.

“She’s so lucky.. she’s so pretty.. I hope she dumps Urban and gets with me alright now guys let’s not do too much.” He smacked his lips making you laugh as you rested your face in his chest, his heartbeat sounding like music to your ears. You closed your eyes and steadied your breathing and soon enough you were out like light.

Urban was reading a few more comments not noticing you fell asleep till one of the fans brought it up he looked down and smiled at you.

“Looks like someone fell asleep well that’s enough for tonight guys I’ll talk to you more later.” Urban ended the live before tossing his phone somewhere on the couch and looking down at you.

“Loving you really feels like a dream I still can’t believe you’re mine.” He mumbled and kissed the top of your head, he reached for the throw blanket that laid across the couch before wrapping your legs around his waist and wrapping the two of you up in the blanket.

Urban laid on the couch with you on his chest and rubbing small circles on your back before he soon enough fell asleep himself. Him and his perfect girl together forever.

Taglist

@lcandothisallday

@moody4world

@creme-delacreme

@babyharleezy

[soupedepates]

Emerens belongs to @hel-phoenyx

TW suicide mention and emotional incest

I loathe being vulnerable. I feel like I am dying. It isn't a feeling of shame, diffused, insidious, poisonous shame. I have forgotten what shame feels like. The last time I felt shame, yaya was showering me, I don't remember if I got dirty or just because she had said so. I was like, ten, perhaps? A bit old for that, but to be fair it stopped when I got sexually active and I really wanted her not to know.

It sounds so bad like that. It was mainly because my sense of hygiene was, is still, pretty bad. And she just wanted me not to catch any disease. She was always fretting about me being sick, or hurt, or whatever, she is still calling me every day to be sure I am not dead. That doesn't mean I always answer. I never do unless Aristophane is bugging me about it on the family groupchat. Or if I have over sixty missed calls. I am perhaps over a hundred today.

I lie still; I am here since yesterday, why? Emerens found me wasted on the rooftop, I was daring the devil and not caring what would happen if I fell. So he brought me at his place, probably because he wanted to feel superior, sir Van Heel wants to see a worse human waste than him. Oh, I let him the pleasure.

"Hey. You're awake", he says while throwing his backpack against the wall.

I don't have the strength to utter a word, so I give him a thumb up.

"Thanks God who doesn't exist, nobody has to clean up after your dead body. Can you imagine, someone going through your dump of a room?" Emerens laughs while opening his laptop. "#WherePapoulos is trending on the campus' twitter, since you missed Amane's class. Like, the only class you don't actively ditch."

I sigh and sit on the bed, rolled in the blanket. I reach for my phone, just to see the many notifications I've missed. Georgia has been blowing up my phone, hasn't she. I send her a text to prove me a living man.

"Anyway... You're planing to stay on mute or..."

If I talk, I would start ranting about the all-consuming emptiness, the void in my head, when it isn't a storm urging me to destroy everything around me. And you know, I loathe being vulnerable. I can not afford to be vulnerable. I text him "promise you won't tell anyone".

"Promise. First rule of the server." "I can't handle that", I whisper. "My brain can't handle that." "What. Depression? Big deal, everyone is depressed." "I am not. I can't be." "Dixit the guy that hasn't showered in days, whose primary alimentations are cigarettes and booze, and who tried to jump off the roof", he replies quickly. "Fuck you", I sigh. "I... I have been ignoring it successfully for the past month. I didn't care. It was good. Wonderful, even. It was empty, so a bit boring, and..." "That's why you've been pissing everyone off. You were ignoring your depression and you were bored." "Basically. And I wasn't feeling it, you were the one depressed, not me", I argue. "Wo-o-ow. Rude."

He giggles unsincerely. Is he really trying to lighten up the mood? That's stupid. Why does it feel nice?

"And well, yesterday, I was wasted and I needed to get rid of that weakening feeling. It had to be radical. So the rooftop. And the rest is history." "Honestly, coming from anyone else and said with this monotonous tone, it would have me really concerned. It just ridiculously makes sense with you."

I burst out laughing for the first time in weeks. A genuine laughter, not a cruel giggle after some antics of mine.

"I bought you food", he says while handing me a konbini plate. "I am not hungry..." "Do you feel dizzy?" "A bit." "Big stomachache and wanting to puke?" "Yes..." "You're hungry. So eat."

[goldcranes]

Rereading ‘Sleeper Hit’ and wondering how you’d imagine Rooster telling Hangman/Phoenix that he and Amelia have taken that step into something more?

(Obviously no pressure to answer — I think you’ve mentioned some Bradley POV for the fic before so if this discussion is something that you’ve in mind for that, I’ll wait patiently! Just got to thinking about all those little things from rooster’s perspective 😊 love your writing!)

This is definitely something I want to include in the Bradley accompaniment, but it's going to be a while until I get to that and I've been really missing writing in this world for a while, so this ask prompted me to actually sit down and get this scene sorted! This probably will appear in the fic when I get around to it, but for now, here's how Phoenix finds out (Hangman will come later!):

--

Nat figures it out almost immediately. In his defence, he doesn’t make hard for her: his phone is right there on the tabletop between them as they eat under-seasoned lasagna in the belly of the carrier, and when a text from Amelia flashes up his face goes all soft before he can help himself. 

“Shit, Rooster,” she says wearily, and puts her fork down. “Are you serious?”

He flips his phone over like that’s going to do anything. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, man. Last time I saw you look like that was with Livvy.”

His shoulders lift defensively. It’s a low blow and she knows it – Livvy, possibly the first girl he ever really loved, who cheated on him with a guy in her Dungeons and Dragons group and was posting pictures of her new ring and baby less than a year after the break-up. Seven years ago now, but he still feels a glancing blow of embarrassment and resentment whenever her name comes up in conversation. 

“It’s nothing,” he insists, and makes himself meet her eyes. “I promised, remember?”

“Yeah, I fucking remember. It went something like: she’s the apple of Maverick’s eye and she’s eighteen and I’m never gonna be that guy. Jesus Christ. Who else knows?”

“Nobody,” he says fast, and then amends, “well, actually, Hangman guessed, I think. Surprised he didn’t say anything. I suppose he might not actually have known, could have just been being a dick.”

“Yeah, highly possible.” Nat’s hand drops to her belly like an afterthought. His eyes follow it. It’s still weirder than he has words for, knowing Hangman’s kid is growing in there. Some days it feels hopelessly unfair. Other days it’s exciting. Mostly it makes him wistful. 

He knows she doesn’t like talking about it, so he takes his eyes away as soon as he catches them there and stares instead at the back of his phone. He wants badly to open it and see what Amelia’s said – hopes for a picture of her going about her day, even though the ones from school always make the shame a little stronger. 

“I just,” he says at last, after the silence has stretched out for too long, “I really meant for it not to happen. Honestly I did. I meant it when I said it about Maverick, you know, it’s not just how young she is, it’s how much she means to him. I’ve only just got him back in my life and losing him again would just be— it’s not something I want. Plus it would be really fucking annoying to be the one at fault this time.”

Nat snorts. “Yeah, he’s the only person I’ve ever met who likes to say I told you so as much as you do.”

“He doesn’t even need to say it,” Bradley agrees morosely, “it’s that fucking face he makes—”

“Right? I don’t know how he doesn’t get punched more.”

“Same.” They share a smile, brief and long-suffering, before Nat’s face sharpens back into seriousness.

“I just need to know that you’re thinking this through. I know you like her – and don’t get me wrong, I like her too from what I know. But she’s so young. I mean, are you gonna – what, go to Harry Styles concerts with her? Visit her at college? Be out partying until three AM?”

He winces. “Jesus, no. I mean, you know, if she wants to do that she’s got friends to do it with. I don’t think she’d want to go, though. And she's definitely not going to college. It's just... none of it is really who she is.”

Nat thinks about that for a moment, chewing a mouthful of her dinner. 

“Well who is she, then? What about her makes you think this will work?”

“She’s…” he eats a bite of his own, giving himself a minute to consider it, “she’s figuring herself out, honestly. But not like I was at eighteen. It’s like she knows who she is already and she’s trying to work out how that fits in with the life she’s expected to lead. Her dad’s an asshole, I think he’s fucked her up more than she realises, but she isn’t angry about it like I was about my parents dying. He does piss her off, but it’s like she’s just… she just works with it, you know? I really admire that about her. Shit happens and she takes it and gets on with her life. Doesn’t let herself wallow in it.”

Nat frowns. “She’s always struck me as a pretty serious kid.”

“Yeah, she is. Wicked sense of humour when she lets it out, though. You should hear her with Hangman.”

“God, I’m not sure I want to. He likes her, then? Not sure what that says about her character.” 

Bradley laughs at that. “You let him knock you up, you are absolutely not one to talk.”

“Oh, fuck off,” she says, but she grins briefly too. It fades when she asks, “Is that – did you sleep with her, then? When she was staying with you?”

His shame is bright on his face. He has to look down, something inside him twisting. 

“I tried to put it off, but she insisted. And honestly I didn’t take all that much persuading.”

Nat is silent for a long time. When at last he can bear to look back up at her, she’s watching him with such a mixture of pity and worry on her face it’s almost too much to see. 

“Just promise me,” she says, her voice newly urgent, leaning forward across the table towards him, “promise me this isn’t going to come back badly on you. She’s not going to turn around in six months and say you pressured her into it, or—”

“I would never, Phoenix, Jesus—”

“No, but she could start to feel like that’s how it went down and it wouldn’t matter how you think it’s going now. When you’re that age, it’s all so in flux, how you feel about yourself and other people and relationships, and—”

“That’s not her.” 

Nat just keeps looking at him, dark brows furrowed. He looks back, asking without words for her to trust him. Haven’t they all mocked him for years about being too slow to make decisions, too cautious? He needs her to trust that he’s thought this through with the same – more – care than he’s ever made a choice in a bird. 

“Where is she now?” 

The question surprises him, but he figures it’s innocuous enough. He looks at his phone at last; opens up the message Amelia sent. It’s a picture of her and her friend May in long, slinky gowns at a store somewhere. May’s throwing up a peace sign. Amelia’s half-turning towards her, grinning or laughing, her face bare of make-up and her hair knotted messily on top of her head. He misses her deeply and absolutely. 

“Shopping,” he tells Nat, knowing the warmth in his voice is going to give him away more than anything else ever could. “Graduation dresses.”

“Graduation— fucking hell. High school graduation.”

It comes out of him weary: “Don’t. I know, okay? I know. It’s not what I would have chosen for myself. It’s not something I was looking for, and it’s not something I wanted. But I can’t let go of her, Phoenix. I just can’t.” 

Nat’s dark eyes are as solemn as he’s ever seen them. “She’s it?”

“Yeah. She’s it.”

She reaches across the table and squeezes his hand. Just once, quickly, like a benediction. “Then I’m behind you. All the way.” She pulls back, smiling just a bit, her mouth pulling up at one corner. “Still going to give you shit about it, though, fair warning. A fucking high school girlfriend. You absolute cradle-robber.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, feeling suddenly lighter, better than he has since he left Amelia in San Diego three weeks ago, “at least I didn’t drunkenly knock up my enemy-with-benefits, or whatever the fuck you and Hangman are.”

“Oh, he’s absolutely still a douchebag,” she says, grinning, but the softness in her eyes gives her away. “I hate him, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Bradley echoes, even though he knows Hangman has wheedled his way onto the flight coming to collect Phoenix and a few of the others when they dock in Cypress for no reason other than to see her a little sooner. Even though he knows she’s signed the lease on a shared apartment with only one bedroom and a nursery. 

She notices his expression and shakes her head, sounding suddenly much older and wiser than she has a right to. “None of it’s ever simple. In books and movies it’s always so linear, you know? So obvious in retrospect. But it’s always a goddamn mess and we’ve got to just figure out the best way through that we can.”

“Yeah,” he says, thinking of Amelia in her little sundress, of her saying it’ll be worth it, of the way she’d cried in his lap before he drove her home to Fightertown. “I guess that’s what it is, really. Just doing our best. All any of us can do in the end.” 

[chaotictarlos]

💔TK POV breakup fic because I love angst sm💔❤️‍🩹 and can I get a tiny sneak peek if it's possible?

Of course! I'm not sure if I have shared this snippet or not but here you go!

The moment TK stepped out into the afternoon sun, he knew that walking away was a move he would regret for the rest of his life.

Even through the anger and hurt settling in his chest, he knew he would regret blowing up at Carlos and not trying to talk about what he had done rationally.

Then again, TK had barely done anything rationally in his life.

TK had been trying so hard the past year to stop running when faced with a complication or some kind of conflict. He had been working with his therapist on different ways to cope and how to have logical and rational conversations when he was bothered by something.

And he had told himself, promised himself that he would stop running out on Carlos when things got hard or he felt backed into a corner because Carlos didn’t deserve that kind of behavior. He had made a plan that he would follow, that would encourage them to talk about and work through whatever the conflict or difference was.

However, buying them a place without talking to TK about it, or seemingly not even considering how TK would feel about it beyond his initial reaction to the place had been a step too far, didn’t fit into any of his coping skills, and was too much for TK to handle.

TK sniffled, rubbing the tears out of his eyes before making his way down the street before Carlos could come down and try to talk to him.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, fingers fumbling as he ordered an Uber to drive him away from the man that he loved and TK had thought loved him too so that he could clear his head and decide what to do next.

He was in the Uber, giving directions to his dad’s house because he had nowhere else he could think of to go when Carlos tried to call him. TK ignored it and a text came through seconds later.

[Carlos] TK, please answer me. Where are you? We need to talk about this. Running away doesn’t solve anything and I’m not even sure why you ran this time.

[Carlos] I know I upset you, that wasn’t what I meant to do. I thought this was a good thing for us.

[Carlos] TK. Please. You promised to talk to me about these things and not just run off.

[Carlos] I can see that you read my message. TK, come on, we need to talk about this. Running away right now won’t solve anything.

TK clenched his eyes shut, trying to stop another wave of tears from streaming down his face.

The Uber stops at his dad’s house and TK gets out and heads in, going straight to the guest room that he had been sharing with Carlos. He dropped down onto it, laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling as his phone vibrated again.

[Carlos] Will you at least let me know that you’re safe? Running out like that has me worried and nobody else has heard from you. Just… I want to know that you’re at least breathing.

TK sighed and a part of him wanted to leave the text unanswered and make Carlos worry about him. But TK knew that would be a cruel thing to do and he wasn’t that type of person, he wouldn’t do that to Carlos.

[TK] I’m safe.

[Carlos] Good, good, I was worried. Can we talk about this?

[TK] I don’t want to talk to you right now.

[Carlos] I don’t accept that, but I’ll give you space. I will stay with my parents tonight and then in the morning we can talk about this and figure out how to move on.

[Carlos] I don’t like us parting ways with you so angry at me…

TK put his phone on his bedside table and didn’t look at it again, letting sobs shutter through his body as he thought about what had just happened.

How could TK trust Carlos again?

Ask me about my WIPS!

[calypsoff2]

Seventy Seven. Part 2

Jah is being very judgemental about everything; he is looking at everything and taking it all in. I am staring at him staring at everything in the house, I am not sure what he is taking in “so you really had a party here” shaking my head “a get together” Jah turned to me nodding his head “right, so you want to get ready so we can go” I am not happy that they are here, I wasn’t even aware and Herb told them where we were, what is even his problem to not tell me that shit “which one of my kids is unwell? Why wasn’t I told?” Tina paused not knowing what to say “I mean she’s busy, but it’s Imani” Tina knows more than me “I’m going to call her now” Tina nodded her head “just get ready too” let me go upstairs, I don’t want to argue with Robyn, but I think I will be, she is pissing me off and why didn’t she mention about Imani, that’s my child too. Let me get back to the bedroom, her people being here has also pissed me off “who was knocking?” Herb said half asleep, pushing at his chest “her people! You knew they was coming, you setting me up” Herb looks offended “she texts me, I said it. You ain’t do anything bad bro?” Herb is so confused “not the point is it” storming off to the bedroom, closing the door. Grabbing my phone from the side, shit is just blowing me right now. She hasn’t even called me, she hasn’t told me anything and this is really getting me angry that she is doing this “hello” she answered, I can hear Imani saying no “what you mean no, I have to answer the phone. Just watch Nemo, I will be one second. What’s up?” She is so calm, not even stressed out just no care “your team is here” I said “good, now do the shoot. What is the issue?” I’m just trying to not say anything stupid “why wasn’t I told!?” She didn’t tell me “erm I did, I said I will send my team and they are there, not my fault you didn’t believe me” oh she is being clever now “right, so my kids. Who is unwell?” She is being so clever right now, I hate it “Imani has a stomach bug and Junior is unwell, anything else. Just do the shoot, they will leave you alone then” disconnecting the call, she is being condescending and she knows it; she is being one step ahead of me and being childish, she is acting all innocent like she doesn’t want to argue with my ass, I know her. I know my wife; she wants to talk some shit to me.

“Aye” Herb said behind me before I made my way downstairs “you coming?” I said to him “yeah of course, just wanted to speak to you really quick though” going back up the steps towards him “look I know you pissed with me that I told Rih where you were, what I don’t get is what you angry for? There isn’t anything to be pissed about, your wife wanting to know where you at, how is that even normal” here goes morale Herb, he just doesn’t get it at all “you don’t get it but once you get a dramatic wife then you will get it, she is playing a game, I know her. She is playing a game and trying to be all low-key about this, not only that you knew I was out here having a party, but you were also here. Her team will be going back to her and telling her everything, just a little heads up, are you my friend or my wife friend? If you are then you can go back where Jayson is, you only in that house for me” Herb frowned at me “and I can go home, you wanted me to stay. Remember that you don’t need to be like that. You speak on Rih being power hungry but you the same, nigga whatever” he walked around me, he went down the stairs, but he isn’t seeing the issue here. Acting like her own team, jogging down the steps. I better get this shoot done so they can go “I won’t front but Rihanna won’t be happy people having sex in her house, unless it’s you” Jah said “this is my house too, shut up” he’s going to piss me off “nobody had sex here” Jah cleared his throat “there is a condom on the floor, it’s trashy. Anyways, let’s go people, time frame” this is a mess “and? You’re looking at me like I did something” he is posing me off “only a guilty mind would think that, but I know you love Rihanna. I don’t know what type, but you do” Jah is so fucking petty, she keeps him around because he’s just like her.

Fixing my dick in the boxers walking over to Herb, he’s been pissed since but whatever “I’m glad y’all came” I said to G, Josh and Teyana “you saying that with your balls trapped” she said which made me laugh “which one y’all had sex in my house?” Teyana pointed at Josh “quick thing” shaking my head “no, you fucked me up bro. Like you really did, you know how bad this is” G pointed behind me, looking to the side of me “closed set, they aren’t part of the team” Jah said “I said they are” I said back to him “they aren’t welcome here, especially with someone like that” he pointed “I am a grown man, shut up” waving him off “yeah nigga, move” Teyana said “anyways, y’all better go. I think I’m going to see my daughter really quick in NY and come back” I need to see Imani, see if she good “is this all her people? You can tell; I always said she was stuck up” G laughed “you good people Chris, I like you a lot” clearing my throat “appreciate it but I will holler when I come back” Herb got up from the chair “where you going?” I said, “not staying here, let’s go” he walked off, now he’s being childish “coming back now Chris?” Dennis asked, I just don’t understand “fuck” turning around “how many more shots?” I asked “Chris” Tina rushes over to me “what’s up?” She held the phone out to me “Robyn?” She nodded her head “hello” I said down the phone “just stop being hard-headed and making life hard for them, they want to go home as much as you want to go back to doing your shit, you’re being stubborn. Stop making it hard for my team to photograph you, this is on you. I have been rooting for you and sticking by you so stop showing me up” scolding me as she does “my team want you to fail, stop making that a reality, please. Other then that do as you please after, goodbye” she put the phone down, passing the phone to Tina “let’s do this” nodding my head, I am just going to get this shit done.

I flew back with Robyn’ team, they came back straight away because they have work to do but they were all quiet with me just working hard. They aren’t happy with me clearly but whatever, I am only coming home to see my kids and why they are not well, especially my baby girl. She needs a snuggle from me of course, I hope she isn’t asleep when I get back because I just want to snuggle her and hear her talk, she has stories for days “are you coming back also?” I said to Jah “I need to drop off some things for Rih that I got while in Cali” nodding my head “you really pissed me off earlier” I admitted, I do mean that shit about him “I know” he shrugged “but I ride for Rih and that shit was not cool at all” I chuckled “then say it to her, I don’t have anything to hide. I know your bitch ass is dying to say it so do it. You only coming to the house for that” I know him “not really, you think I would like to upset my friend, just let’s not speak to each other” I laughed at him “so you hate me now?” I said “no, because I do know you love her” getting out of the car “yep” I didn’t bring any change of clothes with me just because I need to go back to Cali to do the video shoot, I just come to see my daughter. Jogging up the steps and into the house, I know Robyn and I know she won’t want to see me, and I know with the timing the kids will be eating their food “hey boy” patting Chase’ head, walking towards the dining room. I can hear my daughters talking and it’s cute, I stopped walking just to hear them “mom so can we go to Barbados and then we go to Disneyland again?” Tianna asked “Disneyland again? Don’t you kids have enough of that” Robyn said but then I started walking again “hey family” I said, and I saw Robyn she literally groaned out, she missed me really “what? You came home” Rylee said and then got up “of course baby, I came because I heard Imani is not well” Rylee is the first one to get up to hug me “Rihanna” Jah said behind me and of course Robyn got up, am I shocked she did.

Rylee and Tianna were really happy to see me “so where is your sister” Rylee pointed at the living room “we have to stay away from her because then we can get it, we don’t go in the room, but you can. I haven’t seen Imani, dad she was so sick. It was everywhere, she woke me” letting out an oh “are you going to be here when we wake up?” nodding my head “of course baby, I will see you in the morning. I won’t go without saying bye now, come on. I will catch you both later. I just need to see Imani” the girls both walked off to go upstairs, poor Imani is being kept away but she is quiet about it which is shocking, I am surprised she isn’t kicking off, Imani will not do something if she doesn’t want too which means she must be very unwell. Opening the door slowly, she is watching her shows of course “Imani Brown, is that you girl” closing the door behind me, she is wrapped in a blanket. Imani gasped and her eyes lit up “hey baby, daddy came home for you” walking over to her “I heard you not been well baby, what happened” keeping the blanket wrapped around her as I picked her up “oh my baby, you lost weight? Oh my god, you know I couldn’t hold you before” hugging her close “oh wow, what happened. Tell daddy, I came for you” rubbing her back “I hurt lots” she moved back from the hug “you were sick?” she nodded her head “yuck, it’s horrible isn’t it. You going to be ok” she wrapped her arms around my neck “awww, you my big girl now. You not my baby” sitting down on the couch, she sat back “I am baby” raising and eyebrow “are you though? You are being silly now; Junior is a baby. You are my very grown baby, that is it. You have gone up a stage, so you ok now yes? You getting better” she rubbed her eye “daddy is home” she clapped “for you of course, I needed to see you. You look unwell, I can see it on your face, my poor Imani” patting her head, she did that to me when I was unwell, and she knew it “silly butt” she rested her head on my chest “let’s wrap you in this blanket” I might fall asleep myself.

Imani is sleeping in my bed, so is Junior. I have nowhere to sleep but the spare room, Robyn is asleep too but I lowkey don’t think she is. She has been silent with me on purpose because she is being childish as always, I am just getting some of my clothes and then going to the spare room, what else can I do. I am not going to start dragging my unwell kids from the bed now, I sighed out as I made my way out of the walk in closet “oh” Robyn said, she is out of bed “I thought I left it on” I knew her ass wasn’t asleep “just getting my clothes” holding them up “you so damn quiet but was hollering and being all up in arms, but now you just acting all quiet” Robyn said “this is me being good, you don’t want to hear my mouth, remember that. Did your gay friend tell you then” I am sure he did “he did and don’t say that about him, I wish to not speak on it. It’s late and I am tired” I had to laugh “I only came for Imani” I said “and what do you want me to do with that? It’s your daughter, I am glad you care” she turned away “actually” I knew she couldn’t help it “you had a female or females in the family home, you are a dickhead. I just want to say that, and I pray she paid for herself sitting courtside, I don’t care if she is connected to Kanye, she could have connections in Roc Nation, I don’t know her. You are literally pathetic, sex in the home our kids in. Maybe it was you, how do we know” if she gets it out now then we can move on “I actually want to have sex before I go, thanks for reminding me” I said “you are embarrassing me, my team. Maybe this is your way of gaining a team or your own friend circle, but I promise you now none of them are loyal to you, Herb is but you are making a mistake, laugh all you want. I am right in this. Good fucking night” she waved me off “I still want sex though?” I wonder if she will give it me still.

[dopesotherstuff]

*incoherent angry noises*

.

It’s that friend again.

Since last time, he’s moved to the state his basic training’s supposed to be in. The whole military thing’s on hold until he gets medical clearance, but an actually nice relative of his has taken him in in the meantime.

Somehow, Gonk’s living safely away from the shitty side of his family, is much more secure financially and lifewise, and is moving into his own apartment...

...and STILL finds ways to disrupt our lives. Not out of any necessity, illness or crisis this time, but basically just for attention.

(Our tale of woe is hidden below...)

Husband: *finally sleeping after another serious bout of insomnia*

Gonk: *ringing Husband’s phone nonstop*

Me: *mutes Husband’s phone and texts Gonk that he is SLEEPING and please stop*

Gonk: *switches to trying to video call Husband over and over*

Me: *keeps refusing the call and texting Gonk to STOP and finally mutes him on both phones but it’s too late*

Husband: *groans* Okay now I’m awake is there a fire at Gonk’s aunt’s house or something

Me: I’m sorry he didn’t reply to my texts so I don’t know, he just keeps trying to call

Husband: *sighs, calls Gonk to see if there’s an emergency*

Gonk: Oh I just wanted to say hi and talk about my Skyrim game, I need help figuring out this quest :D

That’s right. No emergency, no crisis, no actual reason behind his blowing up our phone and video chat besides Gonk wanting attention, being stubborn as hell, and not recognizing that other people have needs too. He was in a house full of people who care about him, so it’s not like he was desperate for human contact.

What gets me is, the guy has a memory like a sieve, so we put things in writing to remind him--but then he ignores the text right in front of his face. Therefore, reminding him to not obsessively call and call and call until someone here answers does no good whatsoever. 

When my guy mutes him on social media and on the phone he just turns his attention to me and does the same goddamn thing until I answer. We get very tempted to fully block him. But because we never know if there’s an actual emergency again or if he’s pulling this shit, we have to check.

That’s not his disability. That’s a conscious decision to be a selfish, pushy headass.

I’m still tempted to try what I had to with my abusive fucking mother back when I was away at college. In her case I had to basically tell her “every time that you swear at or insult me I’ll ignore your phone calls for three days”, leaving her with nobody to use as her agony aunt. It took over two years of consequences before I could train that bitch to respect that one single boundary, but I did.

In Gonk’s case, I really want to propose that we do the three-day block every time he pulls this kind of disruptive, selfish crap for attention. I’m just questioning whether it would work, and whether it might be too extreme.

It’s like...I can deal with his friend needs, I can deal with his disability-related needs, I can deal with his family drama. I can deal with his need for help, his bad memory, and his brain fog.

I CANNOT deal with his being a selfish little shit with zero respect for other people’s lives, needs, and boundaries. The man is THIRTY, not five. There is no excuse for this, any more than there was an excuse for his calling cops on friends out of spite.

[colsonlin]

The Second Coming of Jesus Christ

Note: Colson Lin’s Twitter profile has exactly 181 followers, which will be relevant. He recently used a different profile he created for his project to follow himself. Before these tweets, he had 180 followers. Please remember that Colson Lin is a Yale Law graduate. All of the empirical claims he makes about his life story are true and verifiable by the media.

The opening of Colson Lin’s Twitter profile:

1.

The Second Coming of Jesus Christ is about to post Riddle 1 of 42.

It’s from God.

I know you don’t really want to die. You just want the pain to be over. I know you got tired of America. I know it got hard to stay sober.

I’m going to blow your mind.

God is a woman.

Infinity?

2.

Hey, traphouse vandal:

Or like—

Try to help?

Jesus fucking Christ.

I won’t out you because I’m not a cult leader here to turn everyone against even a single one of you.

I’m literally here to help.

[Note: The above tweet was written at 4:44 AM.]

Oops?

Truth hurts.

—Lizzo

Nothing in the Universe is more Powerful than reality. Reality has a trick.

Reason.

Reasonable beings use intelligence to attach to reality.

Oh the cords get tangled for all sorts of bad reasons (Power!), but those bad reasons are smaller than Reality.

With time, Truth bites.

To be fair [to the traphouse vandal], I didn’t click [your profile].

After I clicked, I was hopeful again.

Hope I click for you too, buddy.

3.

I’m gonna laugh at the media if they try to bury the next few tweets in obscurity after I email them an outline of my philosophical postmodern-art project that challenges the status quo, by an LGBT child of working-class immigrants with a perfect SAT score and a Yale Law degree.

Don’t worry.

Y’all are off the hook for now.

I haven’t done it yet.

But pretty soon after I do?

I’m going to publicize the recipients in this thread.

Sorry for being a living, breathing 21st-century icon.

4.

I just realized.

Shared power means at least somebody should be verifying my work.

Given that I’ve apparently scared the fuck out of 99% of humanity so that nobody wants to engage with me…

Can the NSA just do it?

(Y’all establishment-media types—y’all trust them, right?)

💍

I am happy to communicate with any world leader through text or email.

Y’all know how to find me.

Hell, let’s hop on Zoom.

It’ll be a quick century.

Call me crazy.

But I’m smart enough to speak to you.

5.

@NSAGov

u up?

Here’s my phone number.

[Note: Colson Lin provides a phone number, but it is reacted from public view.]

Y’all can confirm every aspect of my life to check.

Don’t leak my phone number unless I do anything evil.

Y’all can go through all my texts and emails.

It really doesn’t feel fair to the rest of humanity, you know, for like one person to be this iconic.

And not famous.

lmao stoppp i’m literally just kidding y r u being so mean

I’m the sweetest girl in town so why are you so mean? When you gonna ditch that stupid ***** you got? It’s me you should be seein’

Sorry y’all.

I censored the word Satan, because he’s my enemy.

6.

Here’s how this Twitter will proceed:

When I want something, I’ll ask for it.

Literally anyone with a Twitter account can tell me if I’ve made an unreasonable request.

DMs are now closed.

Our book of wisdom will be for future humans.

Don’t worry.

“I’m good with languages.”

Languages spoken or studied: English, Spanish (middle school and high school), French (college), Arabic (college), Chinese (you’re racist).

I’m only missing one to hit the UN six.

Haha.

Oh wait.

What are the chances… my brother Ilya is Russian.

Wise people who can touch powerful wisdom using wise storytelling can touch God.

By the way, for some reason unlikely coincidences seem to stack up around them.

I think those are called “miracles,” but can anyone google it and check?

Hey humanity.

That was my first question.

Don’t worry.

Because I’m a kooky guy, I’ll answer your questions with either tweets or little creative videos.

But if I answer you, I’ll have to delete 1 of my older tweets.

So ask wisely.

If a bot farm fucks this up for all of humanity, Satan wins.

(I’ll literally give up.)

Let me make an empirical prediction supported by logical reasoning:

The hardest time to take me seriously is when:

(1) I have no social power. (2) The entire world isn’t talking about me. (3) Your coworkers. Your mom. Your spouse. Everyone.

And yet so many right now still do.

I’m trying to prove here that God can come out of the elites.

God can come out of world leaders. God can come out of federal workers. God can come out of journalists. God can come out of prisoners. God can come out of international criminals.

I have hope, y’all.

Don’t kill it.

By the way, I will artificially up my follower count to 181 by making one of my other Twitter profiles for this project follow me when I’m not in the mood to talk, when I’m too busy hanging out with friends and living my actual life because—

lmao y’all

This Twitter is literally just a fun hobby for me.

I’m a writer.

This is the most provocative Twitter thread in human history.

Anyone inside humanity can verify it.

7.

If you believe I can channel God, then not a single person in the world can up my follower count.

If you do, I will wait for someone to unfollow me before I talk in public again.

I’m not the Anti-Christ.

I’m the Anti-Twitter.

(Which means I’m pretty sure I just became cool.)

You know—

180 people defended the Alamo. (“Is that true?”)

180 is a perfect LSAT score. (“Is that true?”)

Truth is like a circle of perfection.

Everything outside=Satanic

The first person to follow me and bring me to 181 followers will fuck up the Bible.

So don’t do it.

;)

In the spirit of the idea I just had tonight, I will announce a change of plans.

“A Stick of Dynamite in the American Elite” is a book that will now grow indefinitely.

But I will maintain the Twitter at meaningful numbers.

Which means…

You got it.

This Twitter self-deletes.

Does anyone know how to use Twitter search and take screenshots?

In the meantime, I have a riddle for humanity.

Do you have what it takes to survive?

Postmodernists vote “yes.”

Nihilists vote “no.”

Just kidding.

🤭 oig I'm like so funny

I’m never gonna reveal how to vote.

Yes No

8. [Note: This is a lucky number in Chinese. Colson Lin was born in Shanghai, China. He is the illegitimate bastard child of China’s most iconoclastic philosopher whose writings had a significant influence on the Communist Party of China’s policy in the 1990s. The philosopher is married to a successful mainstream film director named Hu Mei.]

I’m, like, not a real person. I’m a fictional character on an HBO show called “A Stick of Dynamite in the American Elite” that tells the preposterous story of the bastard child of China and the favored son of America coming together to be the Second Coming of Jesus Christ. but—

So anyway—it’s May 26, 2023.

You know.

The day after Jesus 2.0 was born.

How’s everyone’s Boxing Day going?

Meritocrats?

Y’all doing well? (I heard “Yale Law” and “LSAT” trended on Twitter today; random…)

You know what came out on Boxing Day half a century ago?

Google it.

My name is Colson Lin and I got a 1600 on my SAT, bitch.

But I’m gonna inch my number of videos and images up to 1610 before bringing it back down to 1600.

Because I’m from Houston, y’all.

The moon was your first international dynamite.

Beyoncé was your second.

“I’m your 3.”

Hey guys.

If I is 1.

II is 2.

What does 111 stand for?

9.

Tomorrow night on “A Stick of Dynamite in the American Elite”:

The Second Coming of Jesus Christ watches a Netflix show called “Beef.”

It was the first time he has seen so many Asian-Americans.

He has thoughts.

“They’re flatter, fewer-dimensional renditions of the people I’ve met and know. God’s coming out of all of them except the Satanic elite Wal-Mart lady (but I’m only on episode two). Wow. I bet when she and her Japanese husband are bored, they’d watch HBO’s A STICK OF DYNAMITE—”

Tomorrow.

Only on HBO:

“A Stick of Dynamite in the American Elite” found God by breaking the meta.

It’s the show that doesn’t make sense for anyone in Netflix’s “Beef” to have known or heard about.

Because it would break the meritocracy.

Introducing:

“The Lotteracy” by CL.

If you’re too impatient to see the HBO episode:

Read it in real fucking time.

Every Friday night.

Only on @dumatology.

A time-stable book about God, written on Twitter over the course of a summer (“The Summer of the Second Coming”) on Twitter, in 16 chapters.

Backwards.

💍

Spoiler alert:

God is trying to rise out of every tribe at the same time.

The results are Satanic.

Y’all need a leader.

;)

Do you want your leader to be Godly or Satanic?

Wait.

Does God exist?

Holy shit, you guys!

That tweet went up at exactly 2:12 AM on May 26, 2023.

Tell me something:

Am I just a really, really good storyteller?

Or can my brother Ilya see that I’m channeling all of this in real time, because K. from TH Rogers spontaneously texted me to recommend—

The Bible made God boring. Postmodernity made God boring. God is boring.

IQ Test:

Which of the above is true?

“A Stick of Dynamite in the American Elite” is bringing God back to postmodernity.

Yo elites—

Who among y’all ready to click on this video?

2023