#no i will NOT be taking questions OR criticism

[heich0e]

"i won't be able to see you for a while."

the tokyo streets slip past outside your window, but your eyes aren't quite following the scenery. you feel a little dizzy thanks to the wine satoru kept pouring over dinner—filling only your glass, as usual. it was a vintage you could never have dreamed you'd get the chance to taste only a few short months ago; a luxury so distant that you'd never once even thought about what it might be like to try. now it lingers on your tongue, stains your lips slightly, feels familiar in ways you still struggle to reckon with.

you tilt your face towards the man sitting beside you in the back of the car that's taking you home.

"a while?" you ask him curiously, though that's perhaps not the most important query.

satoru hums, smiling a little to himself as his fingers press against the pulse point on your wrist. he's been toying with your hand ever since you left the restaurant, but you've hardly paid it any notice.

satoru's touch used to be limited to the spectacle. his hands only reaching out for you when someone was there to witness it. at one time, satoru would have changed cars before his driver took you home. at one time, he would have dropped your hand the moment the door shut behind you. but he doesn't now.

you've grown strangely used to this, too.

"are you going away for work again?" you ask him when he offers no further elaboration. it's not that you're particularly concerned with where he's going, or why, or for how long. satoru's life always has been, and always will be, solely his own. you're no more his keeper than you are his true fiancée—and the funds that will be deposited into your bank account by the time you make it home this evening are testament to that truth.

but you ask because it feels like the natural thing to do.

though very little about anything you do with satoru ought to be considered natural.

"no," the blonde answers, with that troublesome lilt of mirth in his voice that always seems to precede something unpleasant. you don't ask any more questions in an attempt to ward it off.

soon you reach your destination, the rest of the car ride spent in silence after your brief but relatively benign exchange earlier in the drive. you glance out through the window towards your apartment—a building so utterly unremarkable that the sumptuous interior of the restaurant you visited that evening feels palatial by comparison.

satoru's not allowed to walk you to your door anymore. his harsh, obnoxiously unfiltered criticism of your building—of your home—each time he so much as caught a glimpse of the interior had grown so grating, you'd barred him from entering any further than the entrance to the lobby.

instead, his assistant nanami is the one who silently escorts you to your unit door each night, at satoru's unyielding insistence. he'd been surprisingly terse about it when you'd initially attempted to dissuade him, reminding him (more than once) that you make the walk to your own door every day alone and have thus far lived to tell the tale. but the options he firmly presented in reply—the only two you knew you had to choose from—were either to be escorted by nanami, or let him walk you there himself. you knew that there would be no reasoning with him otherwise, sensed it in the way he held you so fixedly in his stare that day, so you chose nanami.

now each night after satoru accompanies you on the ride home after your engagements, his stoic, well-mannered assistant dips in a polite bow at your door and wishes you goodnight before departing once he knows you've made it safely inside.

behind the wheel up front, nanami slips out from his seat, exiting the vehicle and coming around to your door to open it and let you out. the door cracks open as he pulls the handle, but all of the sudden it comes clacking closed again.

satoru is leaning over you—his weight, his warmth, the sheer breadth of him a little staggering from this close up, especially so unexpectedly—holding the door firmly shut by the handle. he stares at you down the bridge of his nose, unblinking.

"i'll see you... when i see you," you breathe out, surprisingly meek, as you sit frozen in your seat beneath him.

satoru says nothing, just watches you curiously. there's a glimmer of something that swims behind his eyes—that look he gets where you can't help but be reminded of a child playing with a new toy—that makes you shift nervously.

"you really don't want to know?" he asks you, and he's so close you can almost taste the words on his lips.

this is too near, even by his peculiar standards. satoru's hand is still wrapped tightly around the door handle to keep it closed. his body pinning you into the corner of the backseat.

you can't help but feel on edge when you're trapped like this with nowhere else to go.

"know what?" you ask him. your head is still spinning from the wine, but it's almost worse now. maybe it's only just really beginning to hit your bloodstream.

"where i'm going," satoru goads, "how long i'll be gone."

you swallow thickly. "that's none of my business."

"of course it is," satoru replies, feigning hurt. "we're engaged. it's a fiancés right to know where their partner is and what they're doing, any time they'd like."

your brow pinches in confusion. you have no interest in knowing those kinds of things, much less feel any right to know them, given the circumstances. your bewilderment leaves you at a loss for words.

"my rut's coming, you see," satoru explains, his lashes fluttering softly as he says it. it wouldn't feel so strange if his lip weren't curling up in a smirk all the while. "so for the next week or so i'll be... indisposed."

your mouth feels dry.

"oh," you manage to say, though it's not really anything at all.

one of satoru's brows quirks curiously at the sound.

"it wouldn't normally be an issue," he continues, though you didn't ask him to. "but this will be my first rut i've spent alone since i presented, so i'm not sure how long it will last."

your lips part in shock.

"alone?" you sound every bit as astonished—as scandalized—as you feel. an alpha of satoru's rank spending his rut alone is unheard of. "what about the omega servic—"

"i would never pay for those kinds of services."

satoru's tone is uncharacteristically cold as he dismisses the mere notion of it. even as a beta, you know that omega services are perfectly legal, and are strictly regulated nowadays—but upon further reflection, you're not all that surprised by his seeming revulsion towards the idea. a family as powerful as the gojo clan likely has their own reserve of omegas, each one of the highest pedigree, to attend to the needs of their unmated alphas. hell, the most eligible omegas in the country would willingly accompany him if he were to ask. you avert your gaze under his cold stare, you feel a bit silly for even suggesting—

"i have no interest bringing any omega into my bed."

your eyes snap up to meet his.

that little glimmer is still there, behind the impossibly clear blue of his eyes.

"will you take suppressants?" you find yourself asking next. still meek.

satoru's face screws up in disgust.

"that garbage is toxic," he sniffs indignantly. "snake oil like that wouldn't work on me anyway."

you remember learning about this in health class as a teen. remember how shocked you were to learn that the efficacy of suppressants decreases depending on how strongly someone's secondary gender characteristics present. it's always felt a bit backwards to you—shouldn't the strongest, least-controllable members of the population be the ones there's the most interest in subduing?

and an alpha as high ranking, as dominant, as satoru is every bit the example.

"no," he sighs, and suddenly any trace of irritation or sterness dissipates as though he's released it along with his breath. his weary tone is too thickly affected to be sincere. "i'll just have to suffer through it on my own."

from the corner of your eye, you can see nanami shift where he stands and waits outside the door, and all at once you remember where you are.

you turn your body away from satoru, angling yourself (as much as you're able) towards your exit.

"well, good luck," you attempt to sound encouraging, but the words still come out slightly ill-at-ease. you reach for the door handle, hoping satoru will get the message and release it so you can take your leave. "let me know if you need anything."

satoru's hand doesn't move.

"do you really mean that?"

you flinch a little as his lips brush the shell of your ear. he's pressed up against your back now—the planes of his chest firm against your shoulder blades as he drapes himself over you.

you're frozen again, your hand still outstretched towards his at the handle—poised in midair. the lights from outside the car glint tauntingly in the diamond on your ring finger.

his breath is hot as it breaks against your throat.

your chest feels uncomfortably tight.

"would you really help me if i were to ask?"

#tw omegaverse #a/b/gojo

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Bad Guy x Reader

I am currently in my Natural Born Killers nostalgia, and so I'm borrowing its vibes and bringing you this: a bad-to-the-bone, rock-and-roll attitude yandere who constantly makes you question your own morality. Featuring an old OC!

Content: gender neutral reader, violence, murder, male yandere

He fell in love with you at first sight. A goody two shoes, quiet and obedient. Shy. Oh, terribly shy. You couldn't even meet his eyes. He knew you were the kind others would step on, take advantage of. But there was more to it, much more to uncover.

Who was it? A relative, a friend, a coworker? You know, that person holding you back, keeping you in your place. The one who'd always make you feel small and insignificant. The one who would always find something to criticize. How did it feel when you found them on the ground, bashed in and bloodied up? He was standing above the lifeless body, catching his breath, a cocky smile plastered on his face. His way of courting you.

He looked so tall in that moment, towering above your hesitant self, his gaze of a confidence and intensity you'd never known before. "Well? What are you waiting for? Get in", he said, gesturing towards a convertible he most likely stole earlier that day. What possessed you in that moment to join him without delay? Was it his charisma? Or did you know in the depth of your soul that he wouldn't take no for an answer?

You see, he's known it from the beginning. Someone like you needs someone like him. You’re a sweet little lamb lost among the wolves. The world would eat you right up if you were left by yourself. But now you have him. And he won't let his precious prey get away. Oh, dear, no. If he wants something, he gets it. And he's never wanted anything more than you.

"You didn't...even tell me your name", you sheepishly spoke up from the passenger seat, trying to keep your mind away from the crime you'd just witnessed. "Just call me Tig", he said casually with a yawn, speeding away. "Won't you be in trouble, Tig? Why would you even kill-" you tried to reason. "What kinda question is that? They treated you like shit and it pissed me off." He glanced at you with a frown, taking another drag off his cigarette. "You're mine now, so whatever happens to you is my business. Got it?" You just stared. Was that his way of asking you out?

Tig lives by his own rules, as you quickly learned from becoming his companion. Always on the run, indifferent to the world. For the most part, to your surprise, he's well-behaved. If people don't mess with him, he doesn't mess with them. Simple as that.

Anything involving you, however, sets him off terribly. Like a rabid, ferocious guard dog, he's ready to pounce on whoever approaches you the wrong way. Last week you stopped at a highway diner for coffee, and on your way back to your table, you jokingly pulled a clumsy dance move to the song playing from the speakers. Tig observed you with an amused smile, sipping from his cup. A passerby joined you, resting his arm on your waist flirtatiously. Tig's smile dropped in an instant, and next thing you knew, the whole place was splattered in blood. No one made it out.

"I didn't even finish my coffee", you whined, already used to the occasional massacre. The man hopped behind the counter and threw on a bloodied cap. "What will it be, sir/ma'am?" he pretended, dangling a takeaway cup and starting the espresso machine. "I never told you, but I used to be a barista", he declared proudly. An entirely different person from the unhinged killer you witnessed minutes ago. "What? You said you were a mechanic", you questioned with raised brows. "That's also true. I'm a jack of all trades, I suppose. You know what I'm best at, though?" He lowered himself until his forehead touched yours. "Pleasing you."

The man is romantic in his own way. He twists the key, and the engine stops. You follow him out of the car in confusion. "Why did we stop here?" He briefly lifts himself up onto the tall fence securing the bridge, and inhales deeply. "Isn't it a nice view?" he says, nodding ahead. It is a scenic sight, sure. The river slithers along the lush valley, and the setting sun gives everything a dramatic tint. "Give me your hand", he suddenly demands as he goes to grab it himself. Before you can ask for an explanation, he quickly drags a blade across your palm, and you wince in pain. He repeats the gesture with his own hand, locking his fingers with yours over the rail. You watch as fresh blood trails along your skin, eventually falling into droplets and vanishing into the river. "Now we're going to be everywhere", he remarks playfully. "Okay, but what was the point?" you insist, a little baffled.

"Isn't it obvious? Maybe this will help", he continues, procuring a ring from his pocket. "I'm saying I want to marry you, (Y/N)."

You open your mouth to answer, but he already slides it up your finger, eyes glimmering in excitement.

"You're never getting away from me, love."

#yes I'm advertising the movie again because it's a CLASSIC #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere killer #yandere delinquent #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere boyfriend #male yandere #doodle #my art #yandere art #tig

[c0l0re]

My OFF hyperfixation is returning and I WILL be making that everyone else's problem <3

#off #off game #off sugar #off sucre #off zacharie #zacharie x sugar #off sugarie #off fanart #off game fanart #traditional art #art #sketch #traditional sketch #colore draws #i love sugar so much its unreal. just look at her. she is perfect #also zacharie my main man #they are both so great #and yes they are also t4t and no i will not not be taking any questions or criticism on that i am right

[virahaus]

Another day, another fantastic time to debunk completely delulu takes I've seen around. This one actually baffles me on a whole new level, and that people are ACTUALLY thinking it is canon it's giving me a headache.

Why, yes, on that nutter house that is twitterX (and here too unfortunately) people are now claiming that Eddie was Buck's Bi awakening in 2x01 in place of Oliver's recent interview.

First of all shall we look at the definition of Bi awakening, shall we?

"When someone, who thought or assumed they're straight, develops a crush on someone of the same gender and leads to them wondering if they are bisexual."

The key thing here is the realisation. You cannot have a bi awakening without having a moment where you are like "do I like the same gender too? Am I not straight? Am I bisexual?"

Which is EXACTLY what is happening on 7x04 and 7x05 with Buck exploring his feelings for Tommy before AND after the kiss.

There's NO bi awakening on 2x01 because Buck doesn't question in behaviour!! He doesn't have any moment where he considers his animosity about Eddie as anything more than intense dislike, jealousy and fear of being replaced.

Some of you are taking things too far. You are purposefully trying to ERASE actual canon content about a beloved character's bi awakening (something huge, especially with a 30 y/o character) just because you cannot stop for a second and not insert Buddie everywhere you like, even going as far as completely invalidating Buck's journey.

I'm not denying that in retrospect Buck may have found Eddie attractive (Oliver confirmed this as a strong possibility, yes, but that doesn't equal realisation since Oliver also acknowledged that Buck does not look any farther on his feelings on Eddie than interpreting them as personal jealousy).

But canonically Buck's bi awakening is Tommy.

You may not like it, you may not ship it, but you can't behave like this. Headcanons are all well and good, but presenting them as gospel and canon content? Y'all need to take a deep breath and actually get off the internet for a while.

This behaviour is only going to hurt the fandom in the long term. And it is not the first time or the first instance where you take something Oliver said in interviews and completely misinterpret it to suit your pipeline. Try some critical thinking, y'all.

(I'm aware not everyone is thinking like this, but those types of posts are getting over one thousand likes each. At this point it is a fandom problem.)

#evan buckley #eddie diaz #tommy kinard #bucktommy #buddie #911 abc #911 fandom #911 #911 show #911 season 7 #911 s7 #evan buck buckely #my post #yes I'm tagging it buddie. i do not care. y'all need to actually think things through before spreading misinformation #tevan #kinley #bisexuality #bi awakening #lgbtqia

[jinwoosungs]

{ 152 }

motherland.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ it's okay, even if you're not strong enough to erase all tears | after you rest your tired heart | wish for a better tomorrow and fall asleep | like the young children do... }

your heart was broken after receiving an email that detailed your poor performance on a series of assignments, the disappointment felt from your professor being all the more apparent with each word that you read.

you were currently in your kitchen, heating up some soup to eat for your lunch, but the sudden sour feeling felt in the pit of your stomach made you nauseous. your appetite was sapped from you as you looked at your phone, your anxieties mounting while reading each constructive criticism your professor had given you. you felt each word cut through your heart like a knife, slicing your confidence until it was left in shreds.

shutting off your stove, you allow the lukewarm soup to remain in the pot, your eyes never straying away from your phone and the email you received from your professor. he laments on his concern for your comprehension of the material, and asks if you would like to meet with him sometime this week to go over the material-

but you couldn’t bring yourself to reply to him, feeling your disappointment and stress boiling deep within your soul.

admittedly, you hated yourself.

you hated how you kept second guessing yourself and chose to write about the wrong answers.

you hated how much concern your professor held for you while questioning your competence.

but most importantly-

you hated how badly you had messed up and wanted nothing more than the earth to swallow you up whole.

ultimately… you didn’t want to even exist anymore.

your tears hinder your vision as you made your way back into your bedroom, landing headfirst into bed, allowing your phone to slip from your hands and onto the floor. choked sobs wracked through you, and you were crying so much that you made yourself become nauseous in response.

you had been wallowing in your misery for a few minutes when you felt the air suddenly shift around you, yet your tears drown out the sounds of the shadowy wisps parting, making way for your boyfriend as his heavy footsteps were heard coming into your room.

“my love… oh, my darling treasure.” jinwoo coos at you, taking advantage of his strength as he picks you up from the bed and into his strong embrace. he comforts you, pressing lingering kisses against your damp skin, tasting the saltiness of your tears as your chest began to heave endlessly in tune to your cries.

it worsens with jinwoo’s sudden appearance, yet still, you cling to him, your cries growing in intensity as you desperately sought comfort from him.

but jinwoo does little to try and stop your tears. he simply holds you close to his chest, letting your tears wet the front of his turtleneck sweater while drawing comforting circles against your back. it wasn’t until several minutes later that you were able to calm down, your cries simmering down to soft sniffles as your tears went from a cascade to singular droplets felt against your skin (like spring rain.)

jinwoo continues to hold you in his embrace, settling you down on his lap the moment he takes a seat against the mattress of your shared bed. he brushes back your hair before gently framing at your face. he keeps your head still before leaning forward to press a kiss against your forehead.

“what’s wrong? the moment bellion and beru sent me distress signals pertaining to you… i looked through their eyes and saw you crying your eyes out.”

a pained expression was seen within jinwoo’s grey eyes when he frames at your face again, forcing you to meet his gaze. “seeing you so broken hurt me, sarang, so please, tell me what happened?”

you close your eyes and give jinwoo a nod, slowly telling him about the email you received from your professor as you were making your lunch. you admit to him about how you failed, which sends another wave of sobs to course through you.

yet jinwoo remains vigilant when it comes to comforting you and simply holds you tighter to his chest, whispering loving words to you. when you were done with your explanation did jinwoo begin to speak his thoughts aloud.

“it’s okay, sometimes failures can be more beneficial than successes. they help us grow and learn new things, and i know that this experience will only serve to make you stronger and smarter. and besides, despite your shortcomings, your professor even stated on how much he’s willing to help you do better.” he gently pulls you away from his chest, chuckling lightly at your pouting face.

you take in a deep breath, already beginning to feel better the more you listened to his words, “do you mean it, jinwoo?”

your loving boyfriend simply gives you a nod, all while brushing back your hair. “i do… just remember, even if you fail again, it’s not the end of the world. we all fail at some point in our lives; it’s a very normal- a very human experience.”

feeling deeply comforted by his words, you come closer to him and throw your arms around him, squeezing him tightly against your form.

“thank you… for coming to me when you knew i needed you the most. your words make me feel so much better… and i love you for it.”

“i love you too, sarang.”

jinwoo proceeds to kiss away your remaining tears before picking you up within his embrace, nuzzling your face before going into the kitchen to cook you your favorite meal, wanting to cheer you up as you basked in his unconditional love for you.

a.n. - today has been a little rough on me, and i wanted to write a comfort fic with jinwoo to help me feel better. failure sucks, but ultimately, it’s part of being human… as long as i’m willing to learn from my mistakes, then there’s always a chance ♡

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x you #sung jinwoo #jinwoo sung #solo leveling x reader #.stories

[jangmi-latte]

I'm not much aware of the lore in TWST but how did Rook change his dorm from Savanaclaw to Pomefiore?

IT'S BECAUSE OF VIL

okay kidding aside it was mentioned in episode 6-67-17 while we were with the pomefiore trio. vil and rook were explaining how they met to epel and that's when rook revealed he was from savanaclaw

EPISODE 6 SPOILERS BELOW

rook didn't question or really dislike being in savanaclaw. he actually said it was worthwhile and meaningful. he didn't even question the mirror when he was placed into said dorm. it's not too deep of a revelation but he said, "he wanted to understand beauty deeper" to which he knows savanaclaw would lead him there some time sooner. yet he still chose to go to pomefiore because it was founded on the evil queen's principles.

basically, he was an impatient man and wanted to understand beauty quicker (if he was in savanaclaw it would take a while, in his opinon that is). annnnd he said it was his "hunter's instincts"

what really drove those "instincts" (it wasn't impulse) was watching and talking to vil. the conversation and debates they both had prior to his transfer (which included hours of discussion on plays, theories on movies, criticizing vil's acting in his plays/movies, and just basic one-on-one conversation) drove him to know vil's ideals on beauty closer.

he really values meaningful conversations and having the right partner for it. i believe he didn't get that in savanaclaw (since he was feared) and vil is a man who listens so... then he volunteered to stay by vil's side at all times just to pursue his [vil} ideals. practically swearing loyalty.

so he really worked hard managing the papers and necessary steps to transfer despite vil quoting that transferring dorms takes a lot of work. eventually he was accepted into pomefiore. that's when vil domesticated him KASJHDIUHUISKFHN

oh, and he didn't speak french before the transfer.

based on vil mimicking rook's introduction when they first met, rook kept on saying "good day" instead of his usual "bonjour" so i came to this conclusion

this is the same man that waltzed up to vil back in their first year. same man who also entered pomefiore and stuck out like a sore thumb. vil didn't mention he stunk before though but it's probably to save him some face AHDHAHSHAHSDH

#customer service #twst #rook hunt

[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.”

#take a shot every time i reference one of my friends' fics in this series #fly high prof matty forever in our hearts #matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #matty healy imagine #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut #writing #smut #white and gold

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Chapter Four

Kusuo Saiki x Reader

Chapter Four: Safety Drills and Clairvoyants

Summary: (Y/N) and Saiki perform a safety drill, and Saiki has to make sure his friends don't get tricked by a fake psychic.

            “Listen up, everyone! There’ll be an evacuation drill today!” announced Hairo.

            “Evacuation drill, huh?”

            “Ha! I’ll be fine. I don’t need to rehearse,” said Nendou.

            “Yes, he does,” whispered (Y/N), leaning over to Saiki. “Yesterday, he walked into the first-year hall and thought it was ours.” They grinned cheekily.

            Saiki sighed. “Of course, he did.”

            “Nendou, you shouldn’t take the drill so lightly,” warned Hairo. “Take a fire, for example! You’re surrounded by hot flames. The smoke makes it hard to see. You have trouble breathing! Now, what’re you gonna do in such a hot and hostile environment?! Can you make a level-headed decision in that situation when you didn’t even bother to participate in the drill?! Preparedness always pays off!”

            “You’re as hot and suffocating as a fire,” said Saiki.

            “Fires are great for making s’mores on a summer night,” said (Y/N), thinking aloud.

            They wouldn’t survive a fire, either, would they? The psychic sighed. For all (Y/N)’s good sense, they lacked it at some critical moments. Yare yare. They’re all so troublesome.

            “Anyway, when the fire alarm goes off, follow the instructions and evacuate to the schoolyard,” said Hairo. He was acting much calmer than he had been a few seconds ago. “This is a mnemonic created by using the initials for the important considerations during an evacuation. ‘SOS.’ ”

            If I remember correctly, it stands for “Slow, Orderly, and Silent.”

            (Y/N) brightened. “I was right earlier! ‘S’mores On Summer nights.’ ”

            Saiki deadpanned even more than usual. That’s not even close.

            “Oh, I get it!” piped up Nendou. “ ‘Save Our Selves!’ ”

            “That can’t be right!” protested (Y/N).

            Do they remember what it actually means?

            “We should Save Others before Snacks!”

            Well, at least they have good intentions…

            “Well, I suppose, but…” said Hairo.

            “Then, it must be ‘Someone! Over here! Save me!’ ” said Nendou.

            “Do it yourself,” said Saiki.

            Kaidou laughed derisively (acting dramatic as usual). “You’re stupid as ever.”

            “What?! Do you know what it means?” questioned Nendou.

            “Hmph, of course, I do,” declared Kaidou confidently.

            “What? Is it ‘Save Others with Superpowers?’ ” laughed (Y/N), obviously joking.

            Nendou laughed. “Good one, pinky.”

            “No! It’s ‘Scorching Oblivion Smackdown!’ ” said Kaidou.

            Everyone was silent.

            “I was just kidding,” said Kaidou, backpedaling quickly. “It stands for ‘Slow, Orderly, and Silent.’ ”

            “Yes, that’s right,” said Hairo. “So everyone, please remember SOS when you are participating in the drill.”

            The PA system turned on. “A fire broke out in the science room on the first floor. Please evacuate.” The fire alarm began to ring.

            “The sound of fire alarms makes me panic,” said Teruhashi.

            “This is important. We should pay attention,” said Saiki.

            “Fire, you need to Stay calm. Open your bag and take out your safety hood, then Stand in line in order of your student number,” explained Hairo.

            (Y/N) walked over and picked their hood up. Since the buttons were directly under their chin, they fumbled with them. Sighing, Saiki walked over and buttoned it correctly. (Well, really he held his hands up and the buttons did themselves, but it was still Saiki making them do so. It counted).

            “Thanks, Saiki!” chirped (Y/N). Their heart fluttered at his help, and they smiled widely.

            “Yare yare. It’s just for helping at the sports festival,” said Saiki, looking away. He didn’t like being in debt to anyone, so helping with buttons would even out the food thing. That was all.

            “Oh, no,” said Teruhashi, frowning down at her hood. “I can’t figure out my buttons.” Saiki will see me in trouble and help! Then I’ll thank him, and he’ll say “Oh, wow!”

            Not happening.

            A swarm of boys jumped to Teruhashi’s side. “We’ll help you, Teruhashi!”

            “We shouldn’t wait around here! The fire could spread,” warned Hairo.

            “If you spend too much time helping me, you guys will…” Teruhashi gasped dramatically and softened her eyes thankfully.

            “She’s right! What is your guys’ plan?” asked Hairo.

            “Sacrifice Ourselves to Save her,” declared the boys.

            “I-I see,” said Hairo.

            Saying nary a word they’d Offer me their help. They’re my love Slaves. Teehee, thought Teruhashi.

            Class 3 lined up by the door and began exiting.

            “Okay! Let’s start evacuating,” ordered Hairo.

            “Oh, shoot, I left my phone in class,” said Tadashi. He began to turn around, but Hairo interceded.

            “Stop, Tadashi! You’re Out of line, Stay in place,” commanded the class rep.

            “He’s trying too hard.”

            “Mhm,” hummed (Y/N), chewing on a snack.

            Saiki almost deadpanned more than usual. They had marshmallows with them. No wonder they kept thinking about s’mores. “I feel like I’m hearing SOS in almost everything now.”

            “That’s a Strange Occurrence, Saiki,” said (Y/N).

            “See? What did I tell you?”

            (Y/N) blinked before smiling. “Whoa, you’re So Observant, Saiki.”

            “Stop it, guys. Obviously a fire drill doesn’t have time for Stupid quarrels,” said Kaidou to Hairo and Tadashi.

            “Right! Great call, Kaidou!” said Hairo. “Let’s continue down the stairs! We’re almost there!” He stopped at the first floor. “What?!” The way was blocked. “Stop! The path leading Outside has been Shuttered?!”

            “Seriously? Come On. We’d be Screwed if this wasn’t a drill,” muttered the discontent students.

            “I wonder if the shutter was closed by mistake,” said Teruhashi.

            “I think it’s because this goes by the science room,” pointed out (Y/N), still munching marshmallows.

            Saiki nodded. How do they manage to be so observant and clueless at the same time?

            “Stay calm. Obviously, there’s gotta be a Solution,” said Hairo. “A solution?” He became serious and introspective. “I see…I now understand the point of this shutter!”

            “I think he finally figured it out, too,” said Saiki.

            “We’re being tested! This is an obstacle!” declared the redhead. “During a fire, Sometimes Obstacles Stance in our way! In other words, to move forward, we must break through this shutter!”

            “Isn’t it made to be tough to break?” asked (Y/N), tilting their head.

            Excepting Saiki, the boys weren’t listening. “Alright then! Let’s break that shuttle!” The grabbed a fire extinguisher and a desk to throw at the barrier.

            “In a real fire, they’d be the first to go,” said Saiki. He glanced over at (Y/N) and their marshmallows. “You might be next.”

            They were blissfully unaware of his comment and just held out a sweet treat to him. “Want one?”

            “…Yes.” Coffee jelly may be his favorite snack, but he liked other sweets, too. Alright, so maybe I’d save you since you bring me dessert.

            Finally, Hairo, Nendou, and Kaidou managed to open a corner of the shutter and let the students pass through. Mr. Matsuzaki was waiting on the other side.

            “So…You wrenched open the shutter and escaped through the front entrance,” observed the gym teacher. “I see…Who would break a shutter?! We just installed it! Are you Simpletons Out of your minds? Do you know what it costs to repair a Shutter?!”

            “We’re sorry!” apologized the boys.

            Geez…This is why I told them…Ah, I guess I didn’t tell them directly. Well, this school doesn’t need an evacuation drill to start with, though. Because…So long as I’m around, Ordeals such as fire Simply will not happen.

            Yare yare. Now I’m doing it.

l

            Throughout the town, the news of the House of Fortune Telling was spreading like wildfire. Apparently, a skilled clairvoyant worked there. People were loving what she said. Whether or not she was correct in her predictions was still unknown, but people kept on going to her, especially curious teenagers.

            “Hmph. How stupid. Fortune-telling is just an illusion created by a bunch of people who pretend to be prophets,” said Kaidou.

            “Wow, it’s pretty rare that you and I agree on something,” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) nodded. “I find it hard to believe someone who can actually see the future isn’t being sought out by governments.” They grinned. “But I’m going this afternoon, anyways. I’m curious about what she’ll say, even if it is totally made up. It’ll be fun.”

            “Well, forget that,” said Kaidou, “I have something more important to discuss with you two. Come with me after school today. Have you noticed? I sense a strange aura being given off in this town. I think Dark Reunion is behind it.”

            “Whatever floats your boat,” said (Y/N), “And I already have plans.”

            “That’s just an illusion you created,” said Saiki to Kaidou.

            Saddened, Kaidou walked away. Nendou popped up beside Saiki and (Y/N).

            “Pal, pinky! Have you heard? There’s a fortune-telling shop nearby,” said Nendou.

            “It’s ‘House of Fortune Telling.’ I’m tired of hearing about it already.”

            “Yeah, I know!” chirped (Y/N). “I’m going to check it out later today, ya know, for curiosity’s sake!”

            Looks like I’ll be making sure my friends bothers don’t make bad decisions today.

            If Saiki was being at all observant of his own actions, he’d notice that as soon as (Y/N) was involved, he was way more willing to wade into irritating situations to keep track of his friends. Acquaintances. (Friends).

l

            Saiki, invisible to all, sighed and followed (Y/N) inside the House of Fortune Telling. Kaidou was with them because they had spotted him “in disguise” in line. The inside was made to look like a stereotypical psychic’s shop with a crystal ball, shimmery drapes, lows lights, the whole nine yards.

            “Welcome to the House of Fortune. Please have a seat,” said the fortune teller.

            “O-Okay,” said Kaidou.

            “Alright,” said (Y/N).

            They both sat down.

            “I’m Mikiko Clairvoyance. Nice to meet you,” said the lady.

            (Y/N) tilted their head in confusion at her name. That feels way too on the nose. Like a stage name.

            “On what matter would you like advice today?” asked Mikiko.

            “Umm,” said Kaidou.

            I see. They seem half in doubt, too.

            “Oh, my…I sense a very unusual aura from you, young man!” said Mikiko.

            “What?!” gasped Kaidou.

            “You’re no ordinary person, are you,” asked Mikiko slyly. “Do you have special gifts?”

            (Y/N) watched the proceedings in amusement.

            “And you!” Mikiko turned to the teenager.

            “Me?” (Y/N) pointed to themself.

            “Yes! You’re quite important to someone with gifts, aren’t you?!” questioned the clairvoyant dramatically.

            (Y/N) shrugged and laughed. “Sorry, ma’am, you got the wrong person.” They brushed her off without a second thought. There weren’t many people they wanted to be important to, and having gifts didn’t go into it. Plus, the list wasn’t that long. Their friends, family, Saiki.

            But Saiki’s a friend, so there we go, thought (Y/N) decidedly, brushing the way their mind separated him from everyone else away.

            Wait…important to someone with gifts?! thought Kaidou. Does that mean…me?! A sudden blush overtook his cheeks as he looked at (Y/N).

            Oh, wow. Saiki frowned slightly. He was more annoyed than usual as he saw Kaidou, even though he was just confused, get all flustered because of (Y/N). It just felt so…troublesome

            “Ah…well, perhaps you’re just not aware of it!” covered Mikiko expertly. Not a good target. I should focus on the boy. She turned quickly to Kaidou. “You’re troubled by something! Am I wrong?!”

            “How did you know that?!” gasped Kaidou.

            People without troubles wouldn’t come to a place like this.

            “Let me tell you what it is…” Mikiko carefully gaged what her predictions should be by watching Kaidou’s reactions. “A problem with romance…is not what it is, so an issue with your future and schoolwork…isn’t what’s troubling you, either. So it’s something to do with your friends and relationships!” She nailed it on the third try. “Yes! Your source of trouble is one friends and relationships!”

            “H-How do you know that?!” stammered Kaidou.

            You make it too easy.

            “Most teenagers have that problem,” whispered (Y/N) to Kaidou, but he paid them no mind.

            “Yeah, you’re right. That is the source of my troubles,” said the blue-haired boy. “I’m an assassin known as the Jet-Black Wings who came from a parallel world.”

            (Y/N) sweat-dropped.

            What is he talking about? thought Mikiko.

            I ask myself that question every day.

            “But after I learned the truth about the organization…” rambled Kaidou.

            Mikiko nodded. “I understand.”

            “I’m used to fighting.” Kaidou clenched his fist. “But sometimes I think about my life…I live in solitude…I don’t have anything I can call frie—I mean, comrade.”

            “Aww, I’ll be your friend!” chirped (Y/N), leaning affectionately towards him.

            “A-Ah!” Kaidou squeaked and blushed.

            Saiki’s eyebrow twitched. (Y/N) was too nice for their own good, and Saiki didn’t need Kaidou having any misguided feelings for them. That would be complicated. That was the trouble. Obviously.

            In an attempt to keep his attention, Mikiko said, “But he needs someone to completely understand him! You need a new approach. You should try to understand others.”

            Oh, so she says some decent things, too. Maybe I misjudged her.

            “Also, this will help.” She opened a box which held necklace. “You’ll be fine if you wear this necklace.

            “What’s that?” asked (Y/N).

            “If you wear this, you’ll be able to make friends with one hundred people and with Kento Yamazaki!” explained Mikiko. “If you buy now, I’m willing to offer you the low price of thirty-thousand yen.”

            (Y/N)’s eyes widened, and their jaw dropped open.

            “Thirty-thousand yen?!” cried Kaidou. “I-I’ll buy it! But I want to know one thing first. Will this make me friends with Saiki?!”

            A soft smile spread across (Y/N)’s face. “Aww, Kaidou…”

            “If you wear it, that Saiki guy will follow you around saying, ‘Hey, pal,’ ” said Mikiko.

            (Y/N) blanked. “Huh?” There was no way that was happening. Plus, that was Nendou’s line.

            “I-I’ll buy it!” declared Kaidou. He paid without hesitation.

            “Well, well, good luck, now I must see other customers!” Mikiko rushed them out the door to the street. “Next person! Please come in.”

            Kaidou regarded the necklace happily as he walked down the street with (Y/N).

            “If nothing else, it’s…pretty,” said (Y/N). They weren’t sure it would work.

            “Kaidou!”

            Both teens turned around. Kaidou was excited to have his first friend while (Y/N) was just surprised that the necklace might actually do something. They were both let down because it was just Mikiko.

            “I’m giving this back! I had no idea what you were saying was true!” she cried. She shoved Kaidou’s money back into his hands.

            “What? Then what about the necklace?” asked Kaidou.

            “You can have it! I bought it at a street stall for five-hundred yen!” she shouted as she ran.

            “What?!” cried Kaidou, realizing the necklace wasn’t magical.

            (Y/N) patted his back. “Sorry. At least you got your money back. And don’t worry, you’ve already got one friend. Me!” They beamed radiantly.

            “Oh!”

            The pair turned after hearing Nendou’s voice. He had just run into Saiki.

            “Oh, hey, pal! Oh, and you, too, runt, pinky?” asked Nendou.

            Kaidou’s eyes widened. Three of the people he was closest to were suddenly all around him. He gazed in wonder at the trinket in his hands. “So this necklace really is…”

            Saiki sighed.

            (Y/N) grinned. “No, no, Kaidou. Can’t you see? We’re already your friends!”

            Kaidou blushed. “A-Ah! R-Right!”

            Saiki was torn between being annoyed at Kaidou’s flustered state and enjoying how kind (Y/N) was. Those two annoy me, but you—he looked at (Y/N)—I can tolerate you.

Taglist:

@elaemae

@painstakingly-juno

@characterreaderwriter

@melovepurple

@sleep-7372

@w0mank1sser

@geminigengar

@noodleryworld

@leonardo-dabitchy

@janezee12751275

@xenop0p

@ex160-blog1

@futureittomainn

@boogiemansbitch

@dmitrytherat

@yuriisclumsy

@sixxze

@constellationguy

#a not so disastrous romance #x reader #gn reader #nb reader #x gn reader #x nb reader #the disaster of psi kusuo saiki #saiki kusuo #saiki kusou no psi nan #saiki #kusuo saiki #saiki x reader #saiki k #saiki no psi nan #kusuo x reader #kus #kusuo saiki x reader

[yourtongzhihazel]

I need to confess something. I'm not even pro CCP i think there is a lot that the CCP can do better and i dont think they are a good government. But every time a yangguizi opens their smug little cunt of a mouth to bitch about Tianmen square or winnie the pooh or the lack of gayrights in china, or censorship, or propaganda, i take one step closer to becoming a tankie. The hypocrisy of the west is hoenstly killing me. Even if what they claim about china is true, its still at worst just as bad as what the west does on a daily basis.

There's plenty to criticize about the CPC and the PRC. No doubt about that. As principled communists, it is important to recognize both the good and the bad of former and current socialism. However a large part of this task is to separate imperialist attack from clouding a correct and full analysis. The fact that entire truths have been denounced as lies while lies have been pushed as truth has lead directly to my militant stance on the PRC and especially on Mao. I have a higher stake in the PRC than most others living in the west, given how nearly my entire family lives there. In terms of changes and policies which I've seen the effects of personally, I cannot in good conscience say that they've been bad. There certainly are bad aspects, e.g. laws regulating personal clothing in Xinjiang, their non-interventionist policy, the speed of nationalization/labor law enforcement, or the slow speed of adopting a conprehensive national personal union/family law like in Cuba. At the same time, I've seen a turn away from the worst parts of GGKF and its associated policies and I'm optimistic about a continued turn away from it. Time will tell, however.

In any case, the question for how the PRC is governed is one for PRC citizens. I am merely pointing out material differences between a DOTP and DOTBs, and fighting against imperialist propaganda.

东风压倒西风

#mmp

[reidfucker]

mitski songs that make me think of reid + a specific lyric

spencer reid is very mitski. but these were the first to come to mind. i do not take criticism.

- working for the knife

honestly, the entire song reminds me of reid, but this in particular:

I always thought the choice was mine

And I was right, but I just chose wrong

I start the day lying and end with the truth

That I'm dying for the knife

- liquid smooth

I'm liquid smooth, come touch me, too

I'm at my highest peak, I'm ripe

About to fall

How I feel this river rushing through my veins

With nowhere else to go, it circles 'round

- class of 2013

Mom, would you wash my back?

This once, and then we can forget

And I'll leave what I'm chasing

For the other girls to pursue

Mom, am I still young?

Can I dream for a few months more?

- i don't smoke

Just don't leave me alone

Wondering where you are

I am stronger than you give me

Credit for

If your hands need to break

More than trinkets in your room

You can lean on my arm

As you break my heart

- abbey

again, the entire song is very reid, but:

I am something

I have been something

I was born something

What could I be?

There is a light that I can see

But only, it seems, when there's darkness in me

There is a dream that I sometimes see

That only appears in the dark of sleep

- i bet on losing dogs

Will you let me, baby, lose

On losing dogs

I know they're losing and I'll pay for my place

By the ring

Where I'll be looking in their eyes when they're down

I wanna feel it

I bet on losing dogs

I always want you when I'm finally fine

- the deal

Then of course, nothing replied, nothing speaks to you in the night

And I walked my way home, there was no one in sight

Save a bird perched upon a streetlight, watchin' me

So, I stopped and let it watch 'til I found that it said

"Now I'm taken, the night has me

You won't hear me singin'

You're a cage without me

Your pain is eased, but you'll never be free for

Now I'm taken, the night has me"

- fireworks

this is perhaps one of the reid-est. here's the particular lyric:

One morning this sadness will fossilize

And I will forget how to cry

I'll keep going to work and you won't see a change

Save perhaps a slight gray in my eye

I will go jogging routinely

Calmly and rhythmically run

And when I find that a knife's sticking out of my side

I'll pull it out without questioning why

- i don't like my mind

again, the entire song is reid, but this is my pick:

I don't like my mind, I don't like being left alone in a room

With all its opinions about the things that I've done

So, yeah, I blast music loud, and I work myself to the bone

And on an inconvenient Christmas, I eat a cake

- first love / late spring

very cliché, but i HAD to include it! here:

And I was so young when I behaved 25

Yet now, I find I've grown into a tall child

And I don't wanna go home

Let me walk to the top of the big night sky

- there's nothing left for you

You could touch fire

You could fly

It was your right

It was your life

And then it passed

To someone new

It'll keep passin' on

Long after you

- nobody

And I don't want your pity

I just want somebody near me

Guess I'm a coward

I just want to feel alright

- because dreaming costs money, my dear

I once lived in the sea

Bring me to your ear, you can hear

The tide where I used to be

Though now I'm but a shell

- a pearl

Sorry, I don't want your touch

It's not that I don't want you

Sorry, I can't take your touch

It's just that I fell in love with a war

Nobody told me it ended

And it left a pearl in my head

And I roll it around every night

Just to watch it glow

Every night, baby, that's where I go

- real men

Real men keep cool in the face of a fire

Go down with the ship

And real men don't eat

'Cause they're above that, damn it

Oh, I'm gonna be a real man

- crack baby

It's been a long, hard 20 year summer vacation

Both these 20 years tryna fill the void

Crack baby, you don't know what you want

But you know that you had it once

And you know that you want it back

Crack baby, you don't know what you want

But you know that you're needing it

And you know that you need it bad

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #mitski #mitski lyrics #reidfucker

[starlight-bread-blog]

My Interpetation of The Southern Raiders: Part 1 – A\ang

Warning: The views expressed in this analysis will be very critical of Aang. If you aren't critical of him in this episode, you aren't going to enjoy this post. This is your chance to leave. I probably won't have a debate for personal reasons.

——————

The Southern Raiders is probably one of the most discussed episodes in the fandom. Everyone knows Zuko Alone is great, but the discussion surrounding this episode is a war zone. In this essay I will try to answer every question posed in the discourse. This is part 1 out of three. In this part, I will discuss A\ang. I believe that understanding both Zuko and Aang's decisions in this episode will give us great insight into Katara's. Because the this episode is hers.

——————

1. Is Aang's philosophy of forgiveness valid?

(1) "Revenge is like a two-headed rat viper. While you watch your enemy go down, you're being poisoned yourself".

(2) "You do have a choice: forgiveness". // "It's easy to do nothing, but it's hard to forgive". // "Forgiveness is the first step you have to take to begin healing".

This philosophy is indeed morally sound. Revenge comes from rage, a negative emotion that causes harm in the long run. Forgiveness is letting go of that rage, which is healing. I cannot write a full thesis, this essay is not about that. But on paper, I do agree with A\ang. He's right to say that letting go of rage is a better alternative than getting consumed by it. (However, his philosophy might not help some).

——————

2. Was A\ang being insensitive when talking to Katara?

First I must reiterate, a lot of people frame the conflict of the episode as one regarding the ethics of murder. In my interpretation, it is not. During this episode Katara was in a deeply emotional place. Her rage stemmed from intense grief and those around her should treat her as a mourner - with great sensitivity.

Now, was Aang being this sensitive with Katara? Well, in my opinion, very much so.

Imagine a scenario where A\ang just happens to meet Haru, and he's about to go on a quest to find revenge on who imprisoned his father. He tries to help him with the following sentences:

(1) Um ... and what exactly do you think this will accomplish?

(2) Wait! Stop! I do understand. You're feeling unbelievable pain and rage. How do you think I felt about the sandbenders when they stole Appa? How do you think I felt about the Fire Nation when I found out what happened to my people?

(3) I don't think so. I think it's about getting revenge.

(4) Haru, you sound like Jet.

(5) The monks used to say that revenge is like a two-headed rat viper. While you watch your enemy go down, you're being poisoned yourself.

(6) Haru, you do have a choice: forgiveness.

(7) No, it's not. It's easy to do nothing, but it's hard to forgive.

(8) You did the right thing. Forgiveness is the first step you have to take to begin healing.

Everything makes sense, right? The pieces fit.He just talks about his cultura\personal values, nothing about what Katara needs at the moment. He could have had this exact conversation with Haru without changing a thing.

Therefore his lines are impersonal and thus preachy. In this conversation he doesn’t show signs of trying to convince Katara not to end her mother’s killer because she is, fundamentally, a good person and couldn’t live having committed murder. He shows signs of trying to make her obey his cultural ethos. This is highly insensitive. Katara was in a very emotional place, filled with rage and grief. And his response was, intentionally or not, to impose his own cultural principles onto her.

But his lines weren’t insensitive just because they were preachy, some of them were judgmental and even harsh. When A\ang is first confronted with Katara’s intentions, he says:

A\ang: Um ... and what exactly do you think this will accomplish?

You can tell from his tone and how the rest of the conversation plays out that he does know what Katara thinks this will accomplish. He asks the question as a form of disapproval - that he thinks that going after Yon Rha won’t accomplish anything. He’s not being genuine, he’s casting judgment on her. He’s almost looking down on her and Zuko, looking down from a moral high ground and sarcastically interrogating the two. Another line that sticks out is

A\ang: Katara, you sound like Jet.

He says she sounds like the man who wanted to flood an entire village full of innocent civilians. He’s insulting her, and greatly so, all the while wanting to keep a moral high ground. This is incredibly rude and condescending.

In the next scene, right after the intense argument concludes, it appears as though A\ang comes around to the journey Katara was about to go through.

A\ang: I wasn't planning to. This is a journey you need to take. You need to face this man.But when you do, please don't choose revenge. Let your anger out, and then let it go. Forgive him.

While he’s still discouraging Katara, it’s not outright condescending. But it’s as clear as day that he’d just preferred if she didn’t go on the journey at all. When he sees Zuko and Katara taking Appa to find Yon Rha, he says:

A\ang: So you were just gonna take Appa anyway?

Clearly disapproving of Katara. He doesn’t want her to go on the journey to find inner peace, he wants her to forgive the man who killed her mother right here and right now. He couldn’t change her mind on the subject, so he’ll advise her the next best thing. It is worth noting that in the beginning, before he advises her, he cracks a joke.

A\ang: It's okay, because I forgive you. [Pauses.] That give you any ideas?

Overall, A\ang’s behavior is unsympathetic and callous.Instead of placing his focus on Katara’s wellbeing, he preaches about Air Nomad teachings and goes as far as insulting her. Even when he comes around, it’s not because he realized his mistakes, it’s because he knew he couldn’t change her mind. And then he makes a humorous remark while giving him his supposed new found advice. The answer is: Yes. Aang was very insensitive when talking to Katara.

——————

3. Did A\ang know what Katara needed?

I don’t think he did. A\ang thought Katara needed to forgive Yon Rha, and as we previously established, without going after him. But even if we look at his second advice, she still doesn’t follow it.

A\ang: This is a journey you need to take. You need to face this man. [Katara situates herself on Appa's head.] But when you do, please don't choose revenge. Let your anger out, and then let it go. Forgive him.

Katara explicitly didn’t forgive Yon Rha, and yet the whole point of the ending is that she’s in a better place now. No matter what Zuko says, A\ang didn’t know what Katara needed. And considering that his lines in the episode were as impersonal as they were, it isn’t a surprise.

——————

In conclusion, A\ang’s behavior in The Southern Raiders is questionable at best. He might have had pure intentions, and had a good message, but the way he put out the message was degrading and preachy. And in the end, he didn’t know what was the right thing for Katara.

#2. taking over and becoming its own meta lol #also “katara spared yon rha bcs of ang” will be discussed in part 3 #anti aang #anti kataang #zutara #<- tagging for reach #atla critical #zuko x katara #katara x zuko #anti anti zutara #pro zutara #zutara analysis #zutara evidence #zutara forever #zutara meta #zutara should have been canon #zutara nation #zutara supremacy #zutara was robbed #zutarian

[hero-israel]

Something I've found quite frustrating is that critics of the IDF's conduct in Gaza seem to be making easy and simple (but wrong) accusations, that then allow Israel/the IDF to respond to those accusations and ignore a real but more complicated problem (or at least distract from it).

The prime example of this is food aid: it seems like every criticism on this front is "Israel is stopping food aid entirely because it is deliberately trying to starve Gazans to death!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" And then Israeli/IDF spokespeople can go "no, we actually let a lot of food in, here's a photo of all the pallets of food that have gotten into Gaza that no one has picked up and distributed yet" and then not have to talk about how right now the ACTUAL problem seems to be that food aid can't get where it needs to go WITHIN Gaza, and how that is actually at least partially the fault of the IDF invasion because it damaged or destroyed the literal streets trucks of food aid would take to get to where it needs to, as well as the logistical systems to distribute it, plus the fact that getting the food where it needs to go requires crossing areas that the IDF considers open-fire zones, and that sometimes means that food aid convoys get blown up by the IDF even though the IDF should know they're food aid convoys and not terrorists.

And to be fair the other side of the coin is Hamas and other armed groups stealing food for themselves or to sell on the black market, and the third side of the coin is organizations like UNRWA being incompetent at distributing the aid, and that after prodding by the US and others and several catastrophic failures the IDF/Israel appear to be making a serious effort to fix things, but still, people miss the point to make easy (and wrong) arguments.

This is a good summary of why entering Gaza was an obvious trap, why I could never come out fully in favor of it, and why I can't say with any real confidence that it has made anything better. Once you've destroyed a territory's infrastructure and roads, there are only so many times you can say "but that's not the real problem" when people are (allegedly) starving. With the whole world making accusations and asking loaded questions non-stop, just the sound of repeatedly having to answer them makes the reasons seem less important than the crisis. It's just as Colin Powell warned in 2003 - "you break it, you bought it."

[vanguard-if]

🔧 WRENCH - are they good at fixing relationships? or do they tend to avoid doing so?

OH I LOVE THIS QUESTION?!?!?

Vera: she's had her fair share of relationships, probably the most experienced out of the bunch. she's acutely aware of how much miscommunication fucks things up, so she's learned to let go of her ego to talk things out when a relationship isn't looking the best. i would say she's a solid 8.5/10. she's not very patient though so best believe that she won't beat around the bush.

Emilio: never had to fix relationships himself; never been in one. poor guy. he's kind of bad at communicating (he knows this and hates it about himself) and will sometimes shut down if under pressure. he'll try his very best by prodding you to bring up a topic. be gentle with him. he's a 6/10 but 10/10 for the the effort.

Charles: sorry to the Charles lovers he's REALLY FUCKING DIFFICULT LMFAO he grew up in a household where his hobbies/passions were not appreciated and gets extremely defensive when criticized. most likely will be the avoidant type when things aren't going well, and will start retreating into himself. it's something he needs to work on. 4/10 oops.

Cirrus: Cirrus is devoted to his loved ones. you bet that he will do anything in his power to correct mistakes, mend relationships, and fix whatever he can. absolutely a 10/10. spouse material. they place their relationships, platonic or romantic, above their duty as a monarch. is this good for the people around them? yes. is this good for their job? hm. maybe not so much.

Nia: unfamiliar with navigating relationships, and tends to blame herself if she realizes something isn’t quite right. she’s trying her best you guys. gets a little frantic and wants to solve issues as soon as possible, rather than letting a snowball effect take place. will try her best to empathize and come to a mutual agreement on how to proceed in the relationship. hmm she’s like a 7.5/10.

#vanguard if #vanguard #vanguard:romance #twine interactive fiction #nia vanguard #charles vanguard #vera vanguard #cirrus vanguard #emilio vanguard

[tobiasdrake]

Obsessed with what it means to be a follower of Junko's ideology of despair. Like. We all know and understand what despair is as a feeling. But. What is despair as an ideological driving force? What does it mean to create a world of despair - like, on the macro scale?

What is the culture of Ultimate Despair as a global movement?

"What is despair as an ideology?" is an incredibly complicated question to answer. So much so that Junko 2.0 herself, Monaca Towa, got twisted up in confused knots trying to answer it and wound up ragequitting the whole thing.

Because at the end of the day, trying to pin a legitimate philosophy to Ultimate Despair may well be an effort in futility. It's an attempt to interpret a consistent and credible belief system out of the impulsive ramblings of a self-destructive neurodivergent teenager chasing the most extreme possible stims. Ultimate Despair as an ideology defies rationality by design.

What does Despair with a capital D mean? I dunno. What does it mean to you?

Culturally, I think Ultimate Despair would be an onion. It would have a lot in common with other kinds of cults; There'd be layers to it. Various depths to descend into when you're ready for the next step of radicalization.

On the surface, the outermost layer of the onion, you have the recruitment and enabling layer. This is where everyone begins their journey into despair. The layer that takes you in and tells you it's okay. It's okay to be yourself. You don't have to pretend. We're not going to judge you. You can find a home here.

This is where recruitment begins, as vulnerable people are given a support network and social structure with one hand, while being fed rhetoric with the other.

On the next layer down, you'd have nihilistic vice indulgence. Nothing matters, there are no rules, so go ahead and do whatever you want. You want to eat the entire pizza? Gamble your savings away? Stab your asshole neighbor in the throat with a fork? You go do that thing. I believe in you.

The second layer is freedom from social consequence. It's where you're taught to stop trying. Stop trying to be better. Stop hoping for a better world. Just give up and indulge your base desires. Despair can be a force for empowerment. Just live in your feelings and do. It doesn't matter what.

At the third layer, you begin to understand what the others are talking about when they say hope is not the enemy of despair, but the fuel for it. It sounded like gibberish before. But you've been listening to podcasts and talking to other members and it's starting to settle in.

You're starting to look forward to things. Foolish, pointless, unnecessary things just to set yourself up for failure. You're playing tricks on other members, inventing lies to get them excited so they can feel the sting of disappointment right alongside you.

Rather than a means to the end of enjoying things, enjoying things is becoming a means to the end of experiencing despair. You're starting to play a trick on your own mind, reframing the hurt and disappointment as enjoyable. You're falling in love with being as miserable as the rest of your community, so you can all commiserate together.

You're learning to wear your misery as a badge of honor.

The fourth layer would then be self-harm. Once people become convinced that despair is empowering then the next step down is the active pursuit of despair. Emotions you depend on can become very addictive. This stage is where trauma becomes a drug.

This stage uses trauma as a ritual of group investment, the way other cults use toxic machismo or financial investment or acts of devotion to their cause. Break your childhood mementos. Shoot your dog. Stab yourself in the gut. Kill your parents. Post pictures of it online and tell your tale so all your bros know how epic of a true despair sufferer you are.

On the upper layers of the onion, they'll assure you that these guys aren't a real thing. Critics of the movement are blowing things out of proportion. But you hit this point and there's nothing better than the rush you get when you find a new form of despair to put on yourself, and everyone else gets to watch you do it and go, "Whoa, I want to get traumatized THAT hard!"

But. Once you've burned all your stuff and killed everyone you love, where do you go from there?

The fifth and final layer is where you receive your mission. You've chased group participation to its farthest possible extreme and nothing means anything anymore. You've desensitized yourself to the world so much that you've become numb to the idea of anything truly mattering. All you have left in front of you is to die for the cause. That's the only purpose your life even has anymore.

You're ready to put on a Monokuma mask and go deface the Statue of Liberty or blow up New York or something. Whatever the leadership structure of Ultimate Despair, which has been largely silent up until this point and allowed the community itself to mold you, now needs from you. You came into this to escape from the burdens of society and now you're ready to become a soldier.

And if they don't give you a mission then you'll devise one on your own. Your final hope is that you'll be remembered as a hero of the cause. Like all other hopes, it is a lie.

#danganronpa #idk #rambling #super dark #trigger warnings

[generouskittentidalwave]

Watching the She-ra reboot after 5-6 years

Hey remember that show in 2018 that came out on Netflix during Tumblr's Twitter era and stirred up enough toxicity to turn you into Dave the Skeleton in the highschool science classroom?

Well BUCKLE IN for a RIDE cause I recently watched that show for the first time after avoiding it for YEARS, after seeing the fans and the haters be so devoted to either the fans praising it like a godsent deity or haters devoting their whole life to finding something wrong with every aspect of the show that it makes you wonder if they realized that they've become the Catra that they sought to destroy, I decided to avoid even touching the show and went about my life in other fandoms.

Well years have passed and like a Hallmark movie time abruptly went on and the drama soon faded, the tides have settled, the war has ended, and neither side remains the same. The fans have grown up, matured and enjoy the show as it is and the haters have lost all that sweet sustenance back in 2019 and have went the ways of the DoDo. With everything finally settled, I joined in on the rush of new fans recently that started rewatching the series and wanted to display my thoughts as well as a first time watcher ^^

I went in well aware of all the criticisms in mind, and having seen the original She-ra, and I just gotta say that my worrisome thoughts on watching it was completely washed away from the start of the show. I was worried of Adora being that one marysue character that is from the bad guys side but is actually a good a guy with the personality of white bread and with flaws of just being "a little bit QuiRkY" but she completely shooed away those fears. She is a well balanced character with a unique and well done backstory, her character breaking away from the steriotypical chosen ones and her having flaws that don't take away her being a good person but instead have their own charm and relatability that makes her very fun and down to earth. She is so golden retriever coded and I love it. What I like most though is that she wasn't "random main character comes in to lead everyone to victory out of nowhere" , instead of making her the unsaid leader, they made her the main character who is the muscle of the group and part of the heart and has to learn overtime and understand their ways instead of making her the leader. It makes way for her to pave and earn her way as being the main character instead of it being given by default by making her the leader and I love that break away. And that break away also helps to counter the fears I heard about the white savior trope by making Adora the way she was and making Glimmer and Glimmer's mom the queen the actual leaders of the rebellion that they helped start.

Love the best friends squad, I love Glimmer's growth and her bond with Adora, I like how she went downhill and built herself back up again as a person as it was very realistic with her being so young and having to replace her mom as queen. Bow is my spirit animal, period, but I really want to know more about his huge family. I imagine that because they are all historians they must go to the academy or similar academies that Bow was meant to go to and I can see why they wouldn't question him not being there as 12 siblings is A LOT to keep track of. Swiftwind is great but he shall always be known as Horsie and the queen's sacrifice hurts everytime I see it, I love how she owned up to her own flaws. Shadowweaver messed up being a mother figure 3 times, she needs parenting classes fr, 'nough said. I love all the princesses but Mermista is my personal favorite. Also why is aunt cast named Castaspella, I can't even say it without dying of laughter 💀🖐️

Now I know some of you are sitting at your computer with 5 monsters in hand and sweat anxiously dripping from your forehead as you dramatically hover over the keys just WAITING to write a five page essay response if I even dare to utter the name Catra and her relationship with Adora. So, I'ma give you my opinion.

Honestly, their romance was the end goal since the beginning and the story made that clear and honestly I like Catra's growth as a character from her knowing she has anger issues and actively working on it to better herself, helping to save others and helping to save Adora in the end. Her realizing that pushing others away to protect herself only harms her and everyone around her in the end and her realistically taking it slow and steady to better herself as a person for herself and for Adora is something a really like. Yes their relationship was hella toxic, especially in the middle (but I do like how Adora recognized that and punched Catra when they were in the portal). The build up was great, the middle ground of her doubling down was great, and I think her growth at the end was great and that the two are happy and not in a toxic relationship with eachother anymore at the end. I think what truly makes it odd is although the redemption was great the time constraints made it so they couldn't flesh it out to help answer and address the past actions that were caused by her, they did so great with her slowly becoming better and better, and so it wouldn't have come off as bad as it did if they had just a bit more time to address everything with that instead of being forced to dive right into it which definitely left a- well- less than good impression to it's audience. But they tried their best with what they could do and honestly for a show as surprisingly dark as this I'm just glad they aren't in a toxic relationship anymore and are happy in the end and that Catra got redeemed. It definitely wasn't trying to romanize abuse, however it came off as such due to constraints and them rushing the ending which gave plenty of ammo to people who already hated the show to have a reason to hate it more. In my opinion if you don't like it that's valid, if you do like it that's valid, me personally I'm not a romance person so I couldn't care enough either way.

Now to address some things I know some people are waiting for, but in speed run fashion. Mara's She-ra design was the fault of the designers not agreeing on what they wanted her to look like, I was expecting her to have brown flowing hair not blonde, I get the stripping of individuality message they tried to go with, it just needed better designers and better execution but that's as deep as it goes. It's not that they are racist, they are more along the lines of "you need a more organized team cause her design changes every five seconds like wtf" kind of situation. I'm glad they didn't automatically forgive Hordak or accept him but I'm glad he was changed enough to not be a killer that's mass murdering people anymore and as long no one is dying by his hands anymore and people don't automatically forgive him then that's fine by me, whatever keeps others from dying a horrible unnecessary death.

Overall, in conclusion, love the show, great depth, great characters, love the humor and amazing magical girl transformations, awesome rep, stronk princess punching things, would most definitely recommend, especially now with all the wave of chaos it's initial release sucked in now evaporated. (Seriously there are full tags and blogs deticated to hating a show about glowing princesses fighting aliens, it's okay to not like a show but come on people there is more to life than that 💀) Enjoy it, have fun, and I hope you have a great day/night! ^^

#she ra and the princesses of power #she ra #she ra spop #spop #spop adora #spop she ra #she ra adora #she ra glimmer #she ra bow #she ra mermista #she ra catra #she ra hordak #tv shows #netflix series #netflix tv series #netflix tv shows #netflix shows #netflix #tv series #princess #princesses of power #princesses

[tulipsinthedas]

Just finished binging the Fallout tv show and 🤯 I've got so many thoughts running through this little brain of mine. So here's a very long rant no one asked for. Maybe I'll make a more digestible version later. Obviously SPOILERS AHEAD!!! Be warned!

First off - the lore. So many interesting things were added into the lore by this show that I find so fascinating, as well as theories I've had that were touched upon. All of which makes this very exciting but also leaves me DESPERATE for season two. The main thing that has really stuck with me is the confirmation that Vault-Tec were the ones to drop the bombs like hello??? I've always had an inkling ever since I started delving into fallout lore a good year or two ago that they were behind everything, but finally having it confirmed is so fun. Of course, some people out there are going to be irritated (L take) but this imo will make replays so much more interesting. Same with the addition of ghouls needing medication to keep from becoming feral. Although this begs some questions; what is the medicine? Is it just radaway, or something else entirely? Maybe it's connected to whatever Hancock used to ghoulify himself? Or maybe it's connected to Doctor Barrows' research into ghouls fom Fallout 3? Idk! But I hope it's answered in season 2.

Cooper being the inspiration behind the iconic vault boy mascot absolutely gagged me. It was kinda hinted at even in the beginning at the kids birthday party but I was still surprised. Pleasantly, of course. Other smaller things, like the BOS branding and helmets opening up, among other things, were also fun touches that develop the lore in ways that the games probably never would have. It's small things like this that despite livening up the wasteland, would be unnecessary uses of resources from a game-development standpoint. So I think if season 2 ends up being a banger like season 1, we could see a lot more tiny additions to the lore like this!

Secondly - the characters. I don't even know where to start. They were written so well which is such a critical part of a good series. Lucy, despite everything she goes through, stays true to her morals and by doing so, probably unknowingly, is changing those around her. Despite being stubborn, she's willing to listen and understand other viewpoints and adapt herself. It's so refreshing to see a main female lead who isn't written as either weak and naive or strong and boneheaded; she'd a perfect mix of both. I also appreciate them not making her a total push over, even in the beginning before she is given any reason to change. She grows, but never fails to stay true to herself. Plus the whole sex positive thing is an amazing touch to add as well, especially for a woman.

And while on this topic, Maximus is such a cutie pie. Writing characters that are selflessly aligned can definitely be a hit or miss, and without properly being fleshed out, can be one-dimensional, but I never felt that way with him. Despite trying to help others and be a good person, he still has flaws and does feels selfish things. They took the trope of the knight in shining armor, literally, and gave him actual human characteristics that made him feel real. Underneath his heroic demeanor, he's just a little guy who likes slippers and vault popcorn. Who just wants to be somewhere safe away from war and danger, to be where he can just relax and not have to worry. And his romance arc with Lucy is just way too cute. From the moment they met in Filly I knew something was going to happen and I was so excited when they finally kissed lmao. The sweet, innocent love at first sight thing they have going on is the perfect dichotomy to all the bloodshed and heavy themes going on in the rest of the show.

And finally, Cooper is reviving the inner ghoul lover in me and I cannot complain at all. As a certified Hancock lover, I feel seen ✋ also Walton Goggins is just incredibly fine. But that's besides the point. His character is arguably the best written because despite being an undeniably evil person, he is still likeable. 200 years have turned him into a man who had to lose his humanity to survive, and the pre-war flashbacks being shown through his eyes give him, and the story, so much depth. Despite his ways, you can't help but still feel for him, to still root for him and hope that he still has a little bit of that humanity left within him. Which imo was shown multiple times; for example him not killing Maximus in episode two even though he easily could have done so. And the fact that he's still searching for his family all these years later? When he was asked what has been keeping him going so long, I think they are his reason. Whether he is searching to reunite or to exact revenge on Barb for dropping the bombs while him and Janey were outside idk. But it makes his story all the more heartbreaking. I also love the writing for Norm, Moldaver, Dane, and so many others, but this is already too long ass it is.

Overall, this series was so good and I'll be impatiently awaiting season 2! Some things I'm hoping to see next seasons are super mutants for sure, as well as synths and more of the enclave. I think they went easy this season to test the waters and see just how interested people are. And now that they know people are very interested, I think they'll be more willing to invest a larger budget, and add more. Rant over!

#fallout #fallout show #fallout series #fallout prime #fallout tv series #cooper howard #lucy maclean #maximus fallout #fallout series spoilers #fallout spoilers #fallout amazon #fallout ghoul