#Matty’s proud smile

[vinylandcoffeecollection]

All the seasonal feels that anyone needs 🥰🥰

[wordsarelife]

"why are you always flirting in near death situations?" With Mattheo and bestie reader or girlfriend reader please. I love your imagined so much and this is my first time requesting 🥺

—willow

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: mattheo has a brilliant idea for a date.. not

warnings: mentions of sex, a bit suggestive but no actual smut

notes: this was so fun to write anon, thank you!! please send more of these asks in the future! at the moment i mostly enjoy writing for mattheo or theo (or theo and belle -> from my fic call it what you want)

"this was the stupidest idea ever" you mumbled walking next to mattheo "you really outdid yourself this time"

"isn't it romantic?" he gestured in the air around you

you looked around confused "horrifying is more the word i would use"

"don't be so negative all the time" mattheo outstretched his arm and intertwined your fingers "this is the perfect spot for a quickie" he smirked

"you disgust me" you rolled your eyes, while still watching around you uncertain. mattheo had dragged you outside for a walk. in the forbidden forest. at night. "you really are pushing your luck"

"ahh" mattheo almost made a noise that sounded like a giggle "you wouldn't leave me"

"go on with that behaviour and you'll find out" you smiled sarcastically. mattheo relaxed when you squeezed his hand "can we please go back now?" you muttered

"are you scared?" mattheo laughed

"of course not" you shook your head "i just don't want to explain why my boyfriend disappeared"

"are you planning to murder me?"

"no body, no crime" you shrugged

"yeah.." mattheo trailed off and you grew suspicious

"matty?" you asked

"huh?"

"you do know where we are... right?"

"pfff" mattheo looked behind you "of course" he raised his arm to point in a general direction "there's that thing back there"

"you have no idea" you sighed, more to yourself than to him

"i was busy looking at you"

"don't do this right now" you breathed "this is just great" you turned around, trying to find a hint of the way that would lead you back to the castle "did you never read hansel and gretel?"

"what?" he asked flabbergasted

"the muggle tale about the siblings getting lost in the forest, who find their way back using bread crumbs" you got a bit heated and started speaking louder

"no?" mattheo replied offended "why would i?"

"because we are in the exact same position as they were, aren't we? where are our bread crumbs?"

"i'm not sure what you mean, the kitchen has been closed for hours" he said confused

"i'm not talking about actual bread crumbs" you replied frustrated while messaging the space between your eyebrows.

"ooh, yeah.. i understand what you mean" matty nodded and for a short second you had the hope that he put a bit of planning into this idiotic idea "whatever the equivalent of bread crumbs is.. i did not bring it" mattheo admitted and shrank under your gaze

"did you bring anything? a map at least?"

"ehh.. no"

"what was your plan exactly, matty?" you crossed your arms

"well" mattheo said, scratching his neck "my plan was to come here and have sex behind a tree. yeah.. that was it"

"do you ever think with your head?"

"not about you, no"

"okay" you tried to calm yourself down "i'm gonna get us out of here"

"i'm so proud to have such a brilliant girlfriend"

"flattering won't get you anywhere tonight, baby" even though his strategy didn't work, mattheo was glad that you didn't seem as angry as before

"sure" he nodded "what are we gonna do"

"first we're--" you paused, suddenly noticing something that send a shiver down your spine

"baby?" mattheo asked, confused why you had suddenly stopped talking "is everything alright?"

"no" you shook your head, before you grabbed his arms, gently turning him around so he could see what you did

"shit" mattheo said as he noticed the webs and the signs, that had warnings of spiders plastered all over them

"this is my worst nightmare" you panicked. there was nothing, really nothing in the world you were more scared of than spiders. mattheo knew that. his eyes softened as he noticed you shaking and grabbing at his hand.

"don't worry" mattheo whispered to calm you down, suddenly remembering something very important "i did bring a map" he took out a parchment and held it in your direction. theo had been as impressed as you by mattheo's stupid idea, so he had drawn a map, just to make sure you both would survive the night. "theo coulnd't talk me out of it, but he gave me this"

"i need to tell theo that i love him" you said relieved. theo's handwriting was neat, so you had no problem to read what he had drawn.

"this kinda turns me off, baby"

you send mattheo a look. "you better be kidding. why are you even turned on in the first place?"

"you look so hot in that dress" mattheo smiled "my pretty lady" he kissed you on the neck longingly

"why are you always flirting in near death situations?" you asked, impressed how he was still able to concentrate on sex while you were literally surrounded by possible danger

"we're not dying, are we?"

"i suppose?"

"i will never not get turned on by you as long as i can breath"

"matty" you giggled as he sucked on your sweet spot "i'm not gonna have sex with you right now and definitely not here"

"too bad" mattheo acted disappointed "how about my room? i'll get rid of theo"

"don't you think he already did enough for us tonight?" you asked, raising theo's map "we can go to my room" you sighed "but get us out of here first"

"yes ma'am"

[cherriesformatt]

9 months || matt sturniolo part 3

matt x fem!reader

summary: just how you and matt figured out life during your pregnancy

warings: pregnancy, suggestive, being sick

word count: 2,2k

a/n: guys thanks so much for all the notes 🥹 means a world to me and 100 followers wtf 🍒ily im not that proud of this one. Let me know if I should still keep going with the next part. Didn’t proofread yet!

The doctor said I couldn’t fly till my second trimester. I was really sick and pregnancy wasn’t easy on me. So we decided that we will wait to tell our families because we really wanted to tell them in person. Chris and Nick were great with keeping the secret. No one besides 4 of us knew. Even Laura and my boss didn’t know. I worked from home so I was able to do my job even when I wasn’t in my best form.

I had basically 3 babysitters now. Matt, Chris and Nick treated me like glass and to be honest sometimes I liked it (mostly when I was rotting on the couch and needed a snack) but most of the time I just yelled at them that I really could do everything without them staring at my soul.

When I was so sick all the time Matt decided that I should just stay with them for now. But the next thing I see is him moving my entire apartment here. I was pretty minimalistic so I didn’t have too much stuff. I just didn’t extend my rental and decided that would be for the best now.

My doctor said I was clear to fly when I was 16 weeks pregnant. So we organized trip to Boston. Sooner than later because I was starting to show and also because I already felt better. I gave up and started taking meds to stop being so nauseous. Every time I would try to gave them up everything would just make me sick.

Justin picked four of us from the airport and I took a passenger seat in the van. The flight was pretty good. I was just tired. The car had an air freshener and it’s smell just make my stomach flip.

“Oh no” I said and released I did not take my meds in the plane because I was sleeping. And also I couldn’t find them in my bag.

“Justin pull over …please” I kept my hand on my mouth.

He looked at me and when he saw me he momentarily did pull over to the side and I just jumped out of the car and threw up. I felt my hair being hold and a gentle hand rubbed my back.

“It’s okay baby… just let it all out” Matt said with his voice being worried.

When I was done I rinsed my mouth with water that Matt gave me and looked at him.

“This air freshener gotta go” I said quietly but he did take it out before I got back in.

“What are you pregnant or something, kid?” Justin looked at me jokingly but I only smiled at him awkwardly.

That’s how he found out.

MaryLou, Jimmy and boys grandma found out because Chris couldn’t keep his shit together.

“No she doesn’t drink” Chris said after their dad offered me my favorite wine. I was the only one who would usually share a glass or two with them and Justin. I was also over 21.

“How come? That’s your favorite” Jimmy said but I just looked at Matt.

“O fuck I’m so sorry” Chris said realizing but it just made it worst. We had to tell them now and then.

“So we came here… not only because we missed you but also to share some news with you all” Matt said really calmly.

“We’re having a baby” He aded looking at his parents and I just gripped his hand really hard.

“Oh my…” MaryLou said and she stood up and came to us and just gave us both a hug.

“You won’t believe this… but what I told Jimmy when you went to drop your bags upstairs. I said something is different… and you honey.. you’re glowing” She looked at me and honestly I couldn’t see that but I heard that a lot lately.

“What can I say…. I didn’t expect that so soon but congratulations kids” Jimmy came up to us as well and gave Matt a reassuring shoulder squeeze and I got a big smile.

“Oh Matty… I always knew you’re going to be the first one to give me great grandchildren” Their grandma smiled at us and Matt just went to her and gave her a big hug.

Rest of the night we spend watching their old videos and baby photos and I just cried so many times. Because I realized I couldn’t wait to have the baby here with us.

They took the news so well and I was really stressed about it because at first I was always worried about being older than Matt and now I’m also older and pregnant.

But they just always made me feel like home here and the rest of the trip just went so well. Talking to someone with so much experience gave me just more power to get through it all.

Then we did my family after coming back from Boston. I didn’t want to put myself out for such a long flight. Since my family was back in Europe. So we did what I dreamed about since I saw that commercial back when I was in middle school.

“Everyone…I want you to meet someone” I said while we were on a family group chat FaceTime.

I stood up and Matt readjusted the screen so it was on my belly. Which I swear was just bigger everyday. I felt like weight was lifted off my body, because not telling my mom and siblings about that was hard. Everyone freak out and I needed to answered 100 questions but luckily my mom didn’t make us say we will get married before the baby comes.

Half way through we were just getting really excited and everyone knew. Everyone except the whole Internet. But honestly that wasn’t to hard to keep from. We always did keep our relationships private and I wasn’t that much on social media so it was alright.

Also that was the time when I just couldn’t resist Matt. I honestly felt like jumping his bones 24h and I’m not even kidding. That was his favorite part of me being pregnant.

We also did decide that we rent a house that went in the market in the same neighborhood that the triples lived now. And we got the house so we started to renovate it like we wanted it. Boys were happy that it’s literally next doors but also it’s our own space that we would need to learn to have.

Nick was filming and photographing all weeks of my pregnancy. At first I didn’t like it because I was camera shy. I usually worked behind it. And now when I’m looking at Polaroids he made me take every week. They made me so happy.

“I love the name Noah” Matt said while his head was on my boobs and his hand on my belly.

I smiled. We didn’t want to know the gender till birth so while we talked to the baby we just called it “peanut”.

“I actually love it too… and we could do N O A H for a boy and N O A” I said and he looked at me so happy that I liked his idea.

Me and Madi would go shopping sometimes and all we did was just buying baby stuff. Most of the stuff I got were the ones I’ve learned from birth classes. I was obsessed with reading all the books about newborns and every now and then I’ll see Matt reading them too when he was not working.

One afternoon Chris came back from his meeting and he was so excited. He handed me w bag and I opened it.

“Chris are you kidding me? I’m going to cry” I put two mini sets of fresh love on the table. One was blue and one was pink.

“That’s the cutest thing that I have ever seen” I hugged him tightly.

“That’s from your favorite uncle kid your first outfit” He said looking at my belly and I froze because I felt a movement inside. First time ever so hard.

“Oh fuck… that was so weird” I said.

“What happened?” Chris stepped away from me.

“The baby is moving and I can feel it so well! Oh my gosh it did it again!!”

“Can I feel it?” Chris asked clearly exited.

“Yes..give me your hand” I said and I put his hand where I last felt it. And when the baby did it again I looked at him.

“Did you feel it?” I asked and he just looked at me with his eyes wide open .

“I did… a little.. that’s so weird… bro you’re a hero” he said.

“What’s that screaming all about?” My boyfriend joined us in the kitchen.

“I just made your baby kick!” Chris said.

“Oh my goodness are you just gonna claim it on yourself?” I laughed.

“What?” Matt came up to me and put his hands on my belly.

I readjusted them and looked at his eyes.

“Now…she did it again” I said and his eyes widened.

“That’s… wow” he said.

“I know” I whispered.

“You also just called Peanut a “she”” Matt smiled.

He knew I was having dreams about us having a daughter. That was another thing since I was pregnant. I had so many vivid dreams.

“Oh that was an accident…” I said.

After my 32nd week we had everything ready in our house and we started to sleep there and hang out. I worked there too. I had my little office. But I started to be really tired so I took my time off. Matt was really happy about it. Because we had more time to spend together, just two of us before there was a three people in the pack.

He was just perfect. He would rubbed my feet when they were swollen and give me a massage every night. He talked to my belly so much and just loved us both to the moon and back. All this time it was really hard for us but he made it so easy in the same time.

When I was freaking out the day my waters broke. He just packed a car and kept his cool. He was beside me every second. His brothers and our moms outside the delivery room.

“That’s a nice one if I’m going to have my baby to this song I might actually name it skies” I said in between taking my deep breaths. I let everyone be part of my delivery day playlist. Lil Skies was currently playing for the 7th time.

“Oh please baby” Matt laughed and rubbed my back as I rolled myself on the ball trying to get through my constructions.

When it came to actual pushing I thought I’m gonna kill everyone in the room. I decided that I wanted to give birth in water. So when I was ready we moved to the pool that nurses got ready.

Matt was siting behind me telling me sweet nothings while I was screaming and holding his hands so hard that I’m pretty sure blood couldn’t get to them.

While I heard crying in the room that wasn’t mine. Everything just went away. All the pain. They put the baby on my chest and I hold it.

“It’s a girl…” One of the nurses said and I kissed her temple. She was so little.

“We have a daughter…” Matt whispered as he hold as both. Both of us crying at this point and just couldn’t believe it.

“She is perfect” I whispered and touched her little nose.

“You both are, you’re a hero” Matt kissed my head.

When they took her for check up. Nurses helped me to get myself together while Matt went to take a shower. Took him 5 minutes because he was scared to miss the moment they will bring her back. I actually couldn’t keep my eyes open after they gave me pain meds I just passed out.

When I woke up there were flowers, balloons and gift bags everywhere. And I saw Matt at the corner of the room with little Noa on his bare chest.

“Matty…” I whispered.

He looked at me and stood up holding her. He was so natural about it.

“Look mama is up” He gently placed her in my open arms and I looked at her. I could just stare at her forever.

“Is everything okay? What’s all of this?” I asked quietly.

“Both of you are great, you slept some time, you deserved it, I send everyone home after they saw Noa for a little bit. That’s all form the favorite uncles apparently” He said with a big smile.

“They’re crazy…come here on the bed” I said and moved a little. He did as I said and I rested my head on his shoulder.

“Thank you…she’s so perfect” Matt said and kissed my cheek.

“Well we did it together I just had more work” I laughed.

He did too and Noa opened her eyes and looked at us. But didn’t cry. She really was perfect. Well she was a Sturniolo after all.

That’s all I needed. My little family.

[iris-qt]

𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚊𝚌

"Suddenly seeing you in a different light than before..."

ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

✧ ʙɢ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ: ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ!

✧ ᴘᴛ. 2 ᴛᴏ ᴍɪʀʀᴏʀʙᴀʟʟ ᴍᴏᴏɴ | 1.8ᴋ

✧ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀᴅᴀᴍᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ (ʏᴏᴜ). ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ʜᴇ'ᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ʙᴇꜱᴛ: ᴛʀɪᴄᴋᴇʀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇꜰᴛ, ᴛᴏ ᴡɪɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏᴠᴇʀ…

God, she’s so perfect

Mattheo Riddle seemed transfixed, practically hypnotized, by the sight of your quill brushing against your lips. The soft plumes of the feather ghosting over them as you listened intently to the Defense Against the Arts professor.

That was his favorite quill.

Although you’d never believe it if he told you. You’d never believe it was him who planted that quill in your messenger bag.

Probably because he was the one who stole your bag in the first place. Perhaps it was sick and twisted, but there was something about your flushed, angry face, brows furrowed and fists balled together, while you yelled at him in front of the entire Slytherin quidditch team that turned him on. You always knew that if something went wrong in your life, it was most definitely the doing of the “hellish toad” named Mattheo Riddle.

But he couldn’t help it.

He had noticed you’d lost your quill and had to write with a muggle contraption called a pencil. 

Barbaric.

So he took matters into his own hands.

Your bag was just lying there next to you on the stone bench while you talked animatedly with your friends. It was practically beckoning to him.

“You know they have a word for that,” you’d tell him months later, looking up with a smirk, sipping your butterbeer in the quaint restaurant Mattheo had taken you to. He had finally convinced you to go on a date with him, and he wanted to make sure it was perfect.

So he rented the whole restaurant out for the night.

Just him, you, a server, and a 5 star chef in the dimly lit building.

He leans forward, candlelight dancing in his ebony eyes.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you grin. 

“And what is it, my little dictionary?”

“Kleptomania,” you grin. “It’s where someone can’t resist the urge to steal stuff, even if they don’t need it.”

“Oh, well that’s not me.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Mattheo grins at you, face flickering in the romantic candlelight as he reaches out to place his rough hand on your own.

“Because I don’t steal invaluable things.”

“I’d call my bag an invaluable steal.”

“Sure, but I stole your heart. And that’s definitely something I value,” he grins, proud of himself as you roll your eyes laughing.

“You’re cheesier than this alfredo pasta, Riddle.”

“Am I as tasty as it is too?” he leans over, a cheeky smirk donning his face. One that would’ve boiled your blood just a few short weeks ago, but ever since that night at the Yule Ball, Mattheo Riddle had weaseled his way into your “cold little heart” as he teasingly called it. 

It wasn’t easy.

Mattheo Riddle had a lot of sucking up to do before you finally took mercy on him and agreed to this date. The truth is, he had already won your heart from that night of the Yule Ball. It was just far too enjoyable for you to witness his groveling.

At first he had kept it pretty subtle.

You had arrived back to your dorm after a rough quidditch practice, face streaked with dirt and sweat, when you noticed a lump under your duvet. You pull it aside to reveal the new book in your favorite romance series with a little note and a bag of your favorite wizarding candy.

Your eyes widen as you unfold a little note, a small smile dawning on your face.

You already knew who it was from, but the messy, chicken-scratch handwriting just proved your suspicions. 

Riddle.

I snuck out to Hogsmeade with the boys last night. Found these and thought of you. 

-- Matty

You snort as you read that he signed the note with the atrocious nickname you had used to belittle and demean him.

“Aw, poor Matty forgot his homework.”

“Try to keep up, Matty!”

As time went by, Mattheo progressively grew more desperate. You didn’t seem very ecstatic to agree on that date that he so desperately wanted. What could he possibly do to win your favor? What could he offer you that would make you break? He’d gotten you your favorite book, favorite candy, favorite cassettes that he drew little sharpie hearts all over. He had gotten you concert tickets to your favorite band. A little picnic for you and your friends, for he knew how much you cherished them.

What more could he give?

Or…wait…

What more could he take?

That set off a week’s worth of shenanigans that Mattheo was having way too much fun putting together.

Project 1: Steal your favorite book.

And steal it he does, right as you go to use the bathroom. He timed it perfectly: you always go during History of Magic, not like you’d be missing anything important.

He leans over expertly, and in expertly he thinks he twists a muscle in his shoulder blade, but, nonetheless, he manages to pluck the worn down copy of your favorite book from your messenger bag.

When Mattheo’s in private, he thumbs through the book, subconsciously imagining you doing the same with your soft hands. Your messy ink annotations are slightly smudged against the aging paper, and as he reads them to himself, he can’t help but imagine them in your beautiful voice…

You’d been attempting to convince him to read this book, thinking the main male character reminded you of Mattheo. You wanted to see if he agreed.

And agree he did as he spent that entire evening reading the book enveloped in the story. Perhaps it wasn’t even the story that kept him hooked. Perhaps it was how he imagined your reaction to certain scenes. The scrunch of a nose. The furrow of an eyebrow. Perhaps it was how he couldn’t wait to see your face as he added some annotations of his own next to yours. Reacting to your reactions. Perhaps you’d finally agree to go out with him, once his scratchy handwriting weasels itself into your favorite work of literature.

Or perhaps you’d just be annoyed at his theft and vandalism.

But that was the worst case scenario, for when you went to your dorm room that night, your book was there, propped up against the door. And when you saw that familiar handwriting, you felt your heart melt as quickly as a wax candle…

“I hope you know you ruined my aesthetic annotations,” you roll your eyes spooning some tiramisu, your snarky words coming out muffled by the dessert, causing the snark to diminish as Mattheo bites back a fond smile.

“Oh please, I added the much needed chaos.”

“Mm I don’t think chaos is ever a need, Riddle.”

“Well you always tell me I’m chaotic, right?”

“Right?”

“And you need me, right?”

You roll your eyes as you see where he’s going.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Don’t worry, princess,” Mattheo gently dips his finger in the mascarpone cream and smears it onto your rosy nose with a cocky grin. “Your blush is proof enough.”

It took more than the annotated book to win your favor, however. You made Mattheo work for it, and he was making the most of every second. The thing is, Riddle loved to do things for you. His love language is acts of service after all. Taking time out of his busy schedule of planned pranks and mischief was only worth it for one person. You.

Growing up in a rich household, Mattheo Riddle had taken on many pretentious, cultured hobbies. One was his immense talent in ballroom dancing as you had the privilege to witness firsthand after the Yule Ball. Another is his weird proficiency in embroidery. Needlework. 

He’s aware it isn’t exactly the most flattering hobby, but he had overheard you talking about wanting to learn it to embroider those uncomfortable-looking muggle trousers of yours…jeans? Yes, jeans. 

No one knew about Riddle’s affinity for needlework and he intended to keep it that way.

But what better way to show you he’s real about you than revealing this talent of his?

So, his winning plan came together by accident when your scarf was blowing along the snowy pathway to Hogsmeade. It nearly flew into his face, which it might as well have, because when he noticed it was yours, he brought it to his face to inhale your addictive scent.

Was he creepy for that?

Probably.

Did he care?

Nope.

What’re the odds your lost scarf blows right into his welcoming arms rather than the various other Hogwarts students milling about?

To a delusional Mattheo Riddle, it was a sign from the universe.

Perhaps he should’ve paid more attention in Divination.

He doesn’t bother to return it to you when he runs across you by a cozy bookstore. Instead, he throws a snowball at you, hitting you square in the face, laughing at your face red from the cold and rage. 

Hey, he’s still Mattheo Riddle.

But he’s a very down bad Mattheo Riddle as he wordlessly wraps his own scarf around your neck, walking off before you could utter a syllable.

After the trip, he busts out his embroidery set, kept buried in a box of old cassettes under his bed. Taking your soft scarf in his hands, he embroiders a moon onto the hem of your scarf, a testimony to the dance you both had shared under the moon at the Yule Ball. 

He leaves the scarf folded on your usual seat in the library, just as you walk in. 

Nothing can compare to the look of pure joy and flustered giddiness that overcomes your complexion at the sight of the embroidery. 

“Guess we owe it all to that gust of wind that blew my scarf over to you,” you grin as you walk out of the restaurant into the chilly night air. Mattheo’s adoring gaze and strong hand are enough to keep you warm as the snowflakes begin to cover you both up.

“Oh, please, y/n. You liked me way before the embroidery.”

“No, Riddle, it was the constant theft and vandalism that made me fall for you,” you tease as you both begin the walk back to Hogwarts on this cold Saturday night.

“Hey, it's my way of showing my affection. Just like yours is rude insults,” he shoots back, nudging your shoulder gently.

“I guess we both need some help, don’t we?” you bite back a laugh squeezing his mittened hand with your own.

“Yeah…but first..” and Mattheo leans in to steal his final thing from you…

Your breath.

NO not in the killing way…

He takes your breath away as he leans in for a soft kiss, numb lips thawing as they meet.

It seems you both always have your magical moments under the mirrorball moon.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @jennapancake @ellabellabunny123 @yearninglustfully, @littlebookbengal @helendeath @girllblogging777

[recklesssturniolo]

Locker Room - M.S

Matt loses a lacross game & takes his frustration out on you, dom!Matt, this is as if Matt was in college, reader and him are dating

A/N: idk how I feel about this I’m sorry😓 if no one likes it heart = shattered

NSFW below, leave if you’re a minor

I went to all of Matt’s games, always wearing his jersey, and always rooting for him. I loved watching him play, not only was it hot but I couldn’t help but always feel proud of him too. Nick and Chris usually tagged along as well, but today both weren’t able to. As I intensely watched the last few minutes of the game, my heart sank as I realized they had lost. I stood up from the bleachers, letting out a sigh knowing how upset Matt was going to be and made my way to the locker room to wait for him outside. I had watched as every other member of his team walked out, smiling and greeting them as they did but only grew more confused the longer Matt took. Assuming by this point that no one else was inside the lockeroom, I slowly made my way inside.

“Matt baby?” I called out.

“Yeah I’m here, you can come in no one else is inside” He mumbled back.

Spotting him as I walked inside, I couldn’t help but think to myself how good he looked. The sweat glisening off of him, his hair a mess and even just the way he was sitting, shirtless leaned back against the wall.

“It okay, it’s just one game Matty” I said, sitting beside him.

“For fuck sakes it isn’t just one game, this was important and we fucked it up” He said back, his voice raising a bit.

“How can I help make you feel better?” I asked as I brought my hand to rub his back.

Barley being able to process his movements I feel his lips smash to mine. The kiss immediately rough and his tongue winning for dominance. I moaned as his hands slipped up his jersey I had on, and he began playing with my breasts.

“Look so good in my jersey” He said, “You wanna make me feel better?”

“Yes of course” I replied.

“Get on your knees then” He responded, grabbing my arm and directing me to the ground.

I remove his pants, spitting on my hand before beginning to stroke his dick. My pace slow but steady, him instantly letting out a groan.

“Fuck sakes use your mouth” He demanded, his hand making its way to the back of my head.

I begin licking circles around his tip, before he applies pressure to the back of my head, making me take all of his dick in my mouth, a gag instantly leaving my mouth.

“Mph there you go, such a good girl for me” He groaned.

I was soaked, Matt being this dominant was something that rarely happened and I couldn’t get enough of it when it did. My pussy throbbing, beginning for some form of friction. I continued bobbing my head up and down, at times using my hand to stroke him when I wasn’t deep throating him.

“Matt” I whimpered, unable to stop myself, the throbbing between my legs becoming too much.

“Yeah? Fuck you’re so hot on your knees for me” He responds.

“I need you, please” I whine.

“Need me to fuck you? Take all my frustration out on your tight pussy?” He questioned.

“I - yes god please” I reply.

Matt grabs my arms and lifts me up, sitting me on the bench before spreading my legs open and smirking before rubbing circles over my clit.

“So wet for me, you won’t be able to walk out of here by the time I’m done with you” He smirks.

“Just fuck me Matty, I need you so bad” I moan out.

He moves me so I was bent over, my ass in the air facing him. I feel him line himself up with my entrance, a moan already falling from my mouth just knowing the sensation that was going to follow.

Without a warning, he slams into me.

“Fuck Matt I - oh my god you’re so big” I whimper, a slight mix of pain and pleasure shooting through my body.

“Take it I know you can pretty girl” He groans out, continuing to slam himself into me at an ungodly pace. His grip on my hips growing tigher with each thrust, no doubt going to leave me with bruising.

“So fucking tight” He groans out, his voice raspy, “Such a good girl for me”

Continuous moans fall effortlessly from my mouth as he fucks me, hitting my g-spot in a way so good that with each thrust I felt my pussy clench.

“Touch yourself, I want you touching yourself while I come all over your ass” He demands.

I do as he demands, my hand now rubbing circles around my clit, only hightening my pleasure. The knot in my stomach only tighening the longer we continued, my legs beginning to shake. Feeling a sudden loss of Matt’s touch, I whimper until I feel his come on my ass and him groan, my name leaving his mouth as he did so.

“God you feel so good, not such a good girl now all covered in my come are you?” He says, without a doubt a smirk on his face.

“Matty I -“ I start but he cuts me off.

“I know baby, I’m not done with you” He replies, spreading my legs wider and moving so he was underneath me, my pussy hovering above his face.

I feel him swipe two fingers up my pussy, a whine leaving my mouth. His thumb moving slow circles on my clit as he used his tongue to flick the rest of my pussy.

“Taste so good, covering my face with your juices. So fucking hot” He says.

The knot in my stomach only becoming tigher as he flattens his tongue against my pussy before sucking on my clit, pushing two fingers inside of me.

“I’m gonna come holy fuck don’t stop please” I whimper. My legs now shaking to the point I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stay standing.

“Good girl, show me how good I make you feel. Come all over my face” He mumbles, sending vibrations up my body.

Unable to hold myself back, I reach my climax, my eyes squeezing shut, and my legs buckling as I did, only pushing my pussy further down on his face. Moaning out his name continuously.

“Matt I can’t hold myself up much longer it - fuck it feels so good” I moan out.

Ignoring my comment, he continues using his tongue to lick up my juices, slowing the pace of his fingers that were insdie of me, before sliding out from underneath me and allowing me to sit down. Both of us catching our breath.

“Never really thought I’d feel this good after losing a game” He smirks.

TAGLIST: @sturnphilia @thatonekid536 @cupidsword @loveesiren @daddyslilchickenfingers @christinarowie332 @ilovemattsturn @mattenthusiast @its-jennarose @lxvlysworld @lovingsturniolo @iwantmattsobad @secret-sturniolo @mattsd0ll @soursturniolo

[dracosbabygirl8]

TWIN

Theodore Nott x reader!Matteo Riddle’s twin sister - PART 2

Summary : in which Theodore Nott develops a forbidden crush on his twin sister's best friend in three situations (inspired by this tiktok)

Warning : toxic siblings relationship, mention of alcool and smoke (lmk if i missed any)

n/a : it's my very first writing, and I'm soooo nervous to post it!! and i also questioned myself if i had to provide a better ending. i just love the suspens and the tension in this one, but if you wanted more details about what private place you go, just let me know, and i’ll add it in the second part (yeah, it's already in the works). hope you enjoy

As Mattheo Riddle's twin sister, navigating daily life isn't a walk in the park. While he can be an incredible brother, showering you with everything you desire and providing unwavering comfort in times of distress, his overprotective nature poses a challenge. No one dares to approach you as he harbors a deep distrust, particularly towards men.

You're in the slytherin common room, casually hanging out with Pansy, Enzo and Blaise when Theo, Matteo, and Draco join you after their weekly quidditch training.

As soon as Matteo enters, he lightly taps your shoulder, which is touching Enzo's shoulder due to the smallness of the sofa you're seated on « hey more space, shawty » he remarks. You chuckle and roll your eyes, finding him quite ridiculous, but you oblige, shifting forward to avoid bothering your brother, who seems to be in a delighted mood, likely due to their quidditch win against ravenclaw.

Draco wanted to teases him a bit « let her breathe mate, she needs to experiment yk, have a boyfriend, etc » he says while lighting a cigarette. « Oh, i had a boyfriend once » you share with a mischievous glint in your eyes. Blaise jumps in with curiosity « and... how did it end? ».

You turn your head, your eyes narrowing as you fix a deep, playful stare on Matteo, your tongue rolling on your cheeks « and…he broke his jaw ». Laughter ripples through everyone, and amidst the chuckles, you catch a faint « that was predictable » from Theo, who observing the dynamic between you and your twin brother, shoots you an amused look, recognizing the subtle nuances in your expressions. Undeterred, you retort « yeah, but we were 11... » casting a mischievous glance at Matteo, who now sports a proud, devilish smile, you add « poor Craig... » in a hushed whisper, you shake your head in a sorry way before erupting into laughter with the others.

•••

You take place in the Great Hall patiently awaiting Matteo’s return from detention, you focus on a parchment resting on your lap. Meanwhile, Theo enter the Great Hall either, he see you, lonely sitting, while reading your parchment. Pretty as always, distinguished as always, like you were out from a fairytale.

He approach you confidently. You feel his intense gaze, accompanied by the wisps of smoke from his cigarette. « may i join? » you just replies with a light « sure » he take place next to you, dangerously close. « What are you doing here? » he attempts to start a conversation « uh- just waiting for Mattie to get out of detention. I had to give him my notes from potions before his quidditch training, n’you? » you answer. « Waiting for him to go to quidditch training » he replies, smiling lightly. « Is it your notes? » he points to your parchment, and you nod. He moves a bit closer, your knees now touching. « You’ve beautiful handwriting » he says while leaning, his words dancing tantalizingly close to your cheeks, the warmth of his breath and the alluring blend of his cologne and cigarette teasing your senses, sending shivers down your spine.

You turn your head towards Theo, faces remarkably close, and you find yourself lost in his deep green eyes. However, as you spot Matteo descending the stairs in the background, you swiftly step back on the bench in a heartbeat, creating a more formal distance between you and Theo.

« What are you two doing here? » Matteo inquires, reaching an eyebrow as he approches. « We were just waiting for you. I wanted to give you this since you overslept this morning, it's the notes from the potion class that you missed » you explain while handing him your parchment, Matteo expresses his gratitude by offering a light embrace and kissing your forehead.

« Here we go, mate, we'll be late for the match, i have to change » he says to Theo, already hurrying off and heads towards the stairs.

Before following him, Theo stands up and suggests « yk i think we should go out together sometime » looking down on you. Lifting your face towards him, you internally question if you heard him correctly « no- i mean, i don’t date my brother friend’s- sorry » you respond with a light smile, wondering if it might be a stupid test orchestrated by Matteo. « Oh that’s suck- i guess i should have kicked his ass then » he replies with a smirk on his face, stubbing out his cigarette and abruptly start to walk, leaving you alone with your heart racing dangerously fast.

•••

Pansy informs you that Draco will be hosting a party in the slytherin common room tonight. Despite being aware that it will undoubtedly irk your dear brother, you are determined to attend the party. You begin preparing yourself, opting for a subtle makeup look, donning earrings, and choosing a dress that strikes a balance between not being too provocative yet clearly not formal, for the occasion.

As you walk through the corridor, the booming music and lively cheers signal that the party is in full swing already. You're well aware that your brother — likely already drunk or high, or both — is somewhere amidst the revelry. A slight unease settles in; you know how unpredictable he can be, especially if he's not in the mood or if someone approaches too closely. Despite this, you muster a resolve, telling yourself « no- not tonight »trying to convince yourself and boost your confidence, you repeat silently « i’m an adult, capable of making my own decisions ».

As you make your entrance, you subtly scan the crowded room to locate your brother, intending to steer clear of him as much as possible, « the magic trick is to avoid eye contact » Pansy says with a chuckle, guiding you to move in the opposite direction of Matteo and his friends — who are, incidentally, your friends as well — are seated.

As you approach the table to grab a drink in a green goblet, the sensation of numerous eyes on you is palpable. Engaging in conversation with fellow girls students, you gradually find your way to the dance floor, feeling a bit tipsy. Joining Pansy, fully immersed in the beat, you begin to sway your hips to the rhythm, surrounded by other drunk students from various houses. You’re suddenly yanked by the wrist, and a familiar voice demands, « what tf are you doing here? » you sigh; facing this situation was inevitable, knowing he would spot you eventually. « Well, i was just yearning for a generous dose of infantilization from my dear twin brother, so naturally, i found the prime spot for it. Thrilled to see you here too » you retort, rolling your eyes. He doesn't bother responding, guiding you towards the group seated on the couch. He turns to face you, raising an eyebrow, poised to question you once again, « just here to enjoy the party, same as you » you reply after a sigh « stop treating me like a fucking child, can you ? » you add. He settles into a seat, commanding « fine, stay next to me then. I didn't like the way they all dance around you » with a resigned sigh, you lower yourself onto the sofa, a tinge of disappointment lingering. Positioned between Matteo and Theo, you observe Draco, Blaise, and Enzo engrossed in a spirited debate on who is the sexier girl at this party while sipping on their whiskies.

« What a way to enjoy a party » you whisper between your teeth, arms crossed. Theo ear you and chuckles, « want to try it? » he hands you a blunt. Smoking is nothing new to you, and he knows that. You indulge in cigarettes daily and experiment with weed during parties surprisingly receiving Matteo's approval. You accept, take the blunt and muttering a quick « thank you » to him. As you savor the hits from the loaded blunt, the smoke lingering in the air, you immerse yourself in a conversation with Theodore.

Despite finding him very attractive, you haven't talked with him much, especially one-on-one. Unsure if it's because he doesn't like you (or quite the opposite) or if you lack the courage to talk with your brother's best mate, whom you've secretly fancied for so long.

The conversation delves into things and other, drifting effortlessly from one subject to another, punctuated by shared laughter at his jokes and reciprocal smiles. Suddenly, he says « uh- you’ve got a bit of lipstick—just right here », he point out the corner of your mouth. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks, and as you reach to wipe it off, he leans in, his thumb brushing the side of your mouth, « and there you go » he says, offering a smile. You feels your ear and your cheeks burn from his move and his smile. You smile him back. Unbeknownst to you, the entire scene unfolds before Matteo, who abruptly crashes onto the sofa between you two, declaring, « fine, enough conversation » while death staring at Theo.

A sigh escapes you, it's incredible how your brother manages to disrupt everything. Irritation seeps in as you become increasingly bored. Rising from the sofa, you announce « i’m a bit sleepy, guys, i'll head back to my dorm, g’night ». They wish you a restful sleep, and as you stand up, Matteo asks, « do you need me to accompany you until your door? » secretly hoping Theo would offer, you respond, « no, it's okay, i’ll find my way, don't worry ». Taking your time to bid farewell to friends, you discreetly search for Pansy to tell her about your quick interaction with Theo. When you can’t find her you leave the room in direction of your dorm.

During this time, Theo replays every moment of your conversation in his mind—the brightness of your laughter at his silly remarks, the way your hair cascades perfectly over your face, and the sensation of your warm skin against his fingertips. Lost in these thoughts, he stands up abruptly, stating, « uh- i’ll grab a pack of cigarettes from my dorm » and departs without waiting for the group’s reaction.

As he exits the common room, instead of heading to his dorm, he veers towards yours, hoping to run into you in the corridor. « Already heading to bed? » you inquire upon recognizing Theodore's silhouette in the darkness « uh- yeah, not really. Actually, I was searching for a pack of cigarettes in my dorm » he answers a bit surprised. « Isn't your dorm in the opposite direction? » you respond, a hint of doubt in your voice « hm yeah, you get a point. Tbh, i was searching for you » he admits with an embarrassed smile while scratching the back of his head, in the dimly lit corridor, you look at him a bit confused, he step forward and confesses « i guess we didn’t finish our conversation earlier ».

Seated on the corridor floor, you share deep conversations and cigarettes together. During a comfortable silence, Theo inquires « isn't it annoying to have Matteo as a brother? » while staring at the wall in front of you. « Oh, definitely! He's nice and all, but he tend to put a damper on my freedom. There are plenty of things that i want to do, but he doesn't allow me... » you share, exhaling a puff of smoke, « and if he stopped preventing you from everything, what's the first thing you'd do? » Theo locks eyes with you, his gaze intense and unwavering. You lock eyes with him, torn between sharing the genuine answer or letting it linger unspoken. As the alcohol and weed take hold, you consider whether to reveal the truth. Summoning by a burst of courage, you smirk lightly and say « this... » before crashing your lips onto his. Your arms wrap around his neck, he kisses you back instantly, placing his hand on your waist and deepening the kiss. Seconds pass in this intoxicating embrace before you separate to catch your breath.

« Are we waiting here for your brother, or should we find a more private place? » he inquire with a husky voice and a smirk on his face, the lingering warmth of the kiss still palpable.

masterlist

[lovefoolholland]

about you - theodore nott x reader

summary: the train reminded theo of you. thestrals reminded theo of you. what did theo remember about you that wasn’t as heartwrenching? 

warnings: angst, a couple of lines from little women (greta gerwig’s movie) 

a/n: i can’t stop picturing theo as a the 1975 type of guy. like, he gives off matty healy’s vibes, you know? 

English is not my first language! 

The platform didn’t quite spark memories of you, but boy did the compartment he and his friends shared sparkle something.

“Theo!” exclaimed Pansy Parkinson, clearly confused by the looks on Theodore Nott’s face “Are you alright?” 

That was an understatement. 

“Indeed” he answered instead. 

“You don’t seem alright” Blaise inquired, and Pansy gave him a glance. 

“I’m just tired” Theo said, rolling his eyes. 

“Tired of spending all summer thinking of Y/N, I’m sure,” Draco’s voice spilled like venom, and Theo turned to look at him with a dark demeanor in his eyes “am I wrong?” 

“Shut up Draco” Pansy said, and then looked at Theo with an apologetic smile. 

“It’s fine,” Theo heard himself answer “but you’re incredibly wrong. Apparition always tires me.” 

No one mentioned Y/N again, but Theo could feel the tension in the air. 

The compartment reminded him of the smell of freshly baked cookies, and how – somehow – you always managed to smell like that. You’ve mentioned before that you’d stayed over at the Weasley’s for a couple of days before going back to school, but it had never occurred to him until later in the relationship that cookies were something Molly Weasley surely did the morning her children (and her friends’ children) left for Hogwarts. 

Now, he missed the smell and he missed having his head dipped into the top of your head while his arms tangled on yours as you read some boring book that had to do with the classes to come. 

“We’re here mate” said Blaise when everyone but him had gotten out of the compartment. 

“Thanks” he said, and watched as a bunch of students started walking towards the thestrals that always drove everyone to the castle. 

He didn’t find you in the crowd. 

He got up and got out of the train in order to get to the castle in no time. He didn’t want to keep depressing himself over his failed relationship and the memories everything in Hogwarts brought him upon with. 

At least not until he saw your wild hair waiting for a carriage. 

“Hey” he said, and you couldn’t help but jump in place once you saw him. 

“Oh, hi” your voice was as soft as the day he left you “, waiting for a thestral?” 

He stared at you for a solid minute, watching how you curved your hands in your robes and a shy blush creeped up your cheeks. He then nodded. 

“Yeah,” you nodded along “how long have you been here?” 

“Not that long” your voice came out squeaky, noticeably ashamed “I just got off the train. I fell asleep.” 

“What?” he asked, quite interested now “Why? Didn’t your friends wake you up or…?” 

“I was alone” you said, pulling your lips together. 

Of course you were. 

“Right,” he said, uncomfortable “we should probably start walking. 

“We should, yeah.” 

The two of you made your path down the castle in silence, both of you unconsciously thinking of the other. 

Theo remembered the first time he got on one of these carriages. He was incredibly nervous, and that’s when a girl with a bright smile sat next to him and started asking him questions. Just… Asking. She didn’t know about his nerves, if anything, she was interested in meeting new people and getting to know them. 

That girl was you. 

Four years later, during the Triwizard Tournament year, he had told you about the Yule Ball during your ride to the castle and had noticed the way your cheeks flushed when Draco mentioned he was going to ask Pansy to go with him, pretty proud of himself. 

Days later, he asked you, and you went together. 

Now it all seemed like a daydream, a cruel, plain daydream he had the day he told you he didn’t want a relationship with you anymore. How he told you that anyway or another, you were an obstacle in his life. 

How stupid of him. 

“How has your family been?” you asked, head tilting towards him. 

He frowned. 

“Father’s been pretty busy. And mother's portrait has been asking about you.” 

Of course he had to say that. 

He looks up to you to find a startled, yet satisfied expression on your face. He feels as if hot porridge has been spilled all over his face and neck because he knows he has turned red out of embarrassment. 

“Send them my greetings” you simply say before accelerating your pace “, come on, we’re going to be late for dinner.” 

“Wait, T/N,” the lights of the path leading to the school flick a little, and you stop in your tracks as he reaches to you “how have you been?” 

You open your mouth and then close it. It almost seems as if you want to tell him everything about your summer but… But you can’t. 

“Good,” you say, and start walking, slower this time, to the castle “my parents have been pretty busy too. The Ministry is going mad over the news of the return of You-Know-Who.” 

“Yes, of course,” he says, and then slightly smiles “did you stay at the Weasleys?”

He’s met with silence. You look at him with suspicion, and he notices. 

“What?” 

“What is the point of you asking these questions?” 

He scoffs. 

“Alright, sorry. I won’t be asking anything else.” 

“No, Theo– I mean, Theodore,” your breath hitches in your throat “it doesn’t bother me. At all. You know it never will.” 

He knows what you’re asking. 

But why? 

As the two of you step into the entrance of the castle and Flitwick tells you to register yourselves, Theo realizes why. 

“I’ve missed you” he confesses, and notices you try to evade his eyes “, Y/N–”

You take a sharp breath before speaking. 

“Stop it,” she says, and he notices the tears forming on your eyes “Theo, you’re being mean.” 

“Mean?” he asks, eyes narrowing. 

“Yes, mean” you emphasize in the word, and suddenly the two of you find yourselves right at the doors of the Great Hall. 

Theo realizes neither has the intention of going in. 

“I’m telling you how I feel, I don’t see how that’s mean.” 

“No,” you say again, and now inevitably make eye contact. He instantly regrets, you’re on the verge of tears “you don’t get to say this, not after hurting me so much.” 

“Y/N…” 

“Not when I haven’t forgotten about you, not completely” you hiss, and take a step back. 

Theo’s mind runs wild. 

“You haven’t forgotten about me?” 

The choice of words amuses him. How can you forget all that you’ve been through? From sleeping in each other’s arms on the train to the sight of you wearing captivating robes to the Yule Ball, dancing until the last song ran out. 

“No, okay? I’ve tried, and I’ve tried, and I’ve tried, but I can’t” you say, tears sprinting down your cheeks as they turn red “I miss you on the train, I miss your arms around me, and I never know what to think about but…” 

“You think about me” he finishes off, and takes a step towards you “, do you think I’ve forgotten about you?” 

He knows you know that’s impossible. 

You put your lips together tightly and look up at him with a frown. 

“No.” 

“That’s right,” he says, cupping your cheeks with your hands. He cleans the tears with his thumb “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” 

You close your eyes once you feel his skin against yours. 

He silently dips his head and kisses your forehead. You still smell like freshly baked cookies. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You simply nod. 

He sighs and dips even more, sliding his hands against the back of your neck before kissing you more feverishly than before. Both of your heads spin as every student storms out of the Great Hall, and even a poltergeist calls you two out. 

“I will never forget you,” he assured you “all I can think about… Live about, is you. I’ve never stopped.” 

You smile and nod, opening your eyes and clenching him by the robes surrounding his body. 

“Never let go, Theodore Nott.”

[lustfulslxt]

Party Revelations - Matt Sturniolo

summary : basically oc and matt have sexual tension that they act on at a party

warnings : sexxxx

a/n : this is just one of my oneshots from my ao3 acc, enjoy 😘

—

vivian stood in front of her mirror, glancing at her outfit to make sure she looks good for tonight.

her and her best friends; madi, nick, matt, and chris were going to their other friend's party. chris and madi have been wanting to go out and have fun, but wanting the rest of them to join as well. so that's what they're doing tonight, going to a party.

as she stared at her reflection, a proud smirk pulled to her lips. she looked good. she had a mini black skirt with fishnets underneath, a fitted off the shoulder black mesh top with a tiny bralette underneath, and black docs laced on her feet. her hair was curled perfectly and she had a dark smokey eye going on.

"v, you ready?" madi calls out, opening the door to her friend's room.

"yup." vivian replied and grabbed her phone, following madi out.

the two girls made their way out to the mini van and squeezed in the back with nick, matt being behind the wheel and chris riding shotgun. they all greeted one another before matt started driving towards the party.

throughout the whole drive, matt and vivian kept stealing glances at one another. he kept finding his eyes watching her through the rear view mirror, loving everything about the way she looked right now. he couldn't help but stare at her lips, oh how badly he wanted them wrapped around him, taking all of him at once. and her body, the way she moved and how she looked in her skimpy clothing. he wanted nothing more than to take her on the hood of his van right then and there.

vivian was in the same boat. matt looked so incredibly breathtaking to her, it was making her hot. he was wearing his black ransom zip up hoodie, black sweatpants, and his white forces. it was a simple outfit that was similar to what he wore everyday, but it still made vivian's insides tighten. the way his hair fell over his forehead, looking so extremely pullable. she wanted nothing more than to become one with him.

the five friends had been at the party for around half an hour now, the majority having split up. madi and nick were drinking together, goofing off in their own little bubble. chris had met up with some of his other friends, smoking with them outside. vivian had already had quite a few shots, and was now dancing by herself as she felt the alcohol flow through her veins. matt was simply standing against the wall with a drink in his hand, watching her.

matt loved the way her body moved, the way she sexily swayed to the music. the way her hands found themselves moving up and down her body and tangling in her hair. she was in her own little world and all matt wanted to do was take her home and fuck her senseless.

see, sure they were friends, but it was different than all of their other friendships. there was deep sexual tension that neither of them acted on in fear of ruining their good relationship. however, the way she looked right now had matt wanting to risk it all.

the song that vivian was originally dancing to had ended, causing her to pause for a moment and observe her surroundings. that's when she noticed matt leaning against the wall with his eyes on her and only her. his intense gaze had her damn near clenching her thighs together to get some sort of friction where she wanted him most.

as a new beat started, vivian bit her bottom lip to prevent her smile from plastering over her face. the song was 'all the time - jeremiah' and it was only setting the mood even more, so she beckoned him over with her finger. he downed the rest of his cup before setting it on the table next to him and walking in her direction.

"dance with me, matty." she spoke in a sultry voice, wrapping her arms around his neck.

he didn't say a word, but pulled her hands from around him and stepped behind her instead. his hands met around her waist, softly running up and down her sides as she swayed to the beat. she placed one of her hands on his and the other went around to the back of his neck again. she continued moving to the music, grinding her hips against his. he pulled her even closer to him, her body flushing against his.

within seconds, his dick stiffened a bit, enjoying the movement of her ass pressed against it. she, too, enjoyed the feeling of it, causing her breath to slightly hitch. matt had leaned his head down, placing his face in the crook of her neck and deeply inhaling her scent. the warmth of his breath arose goosebumps across her skin, it now feeling like it's on fire beneath his touch. the moment he placed a soft open mouth kiss on her neck, she knew she was done for. the feeling of his wet lips on her made her let out a soft whimper, which caused matt's head to snap to her face. that sound went right through him and he knew right then, he needed to hear it again. over and over and over.

"let's go." his voice spoke, husky and rasp.

he didn't even wait for a response, just interlocked their hands and made his way to the stairs. she eagerly followed, not exactly sure of what was happening but still had somewhat of an idea. and that idea made her panties soaked.

matt had walked her all the way down to the end of the hall, entering the bedroom that's off limits to anyone other than their friend group. he pulled her in and locked the door behind them. the two just stared at one another in silence. vivian's big doe eyes gazed up at his and he just wanted to fuck her until they were rolling back into her head.

"you look good tonight." he spoke, his voice still low and slightly hoarse, as he looked her up and down.

"thank you." she smiled, doing the same to him, "you too."

he slowly walked over to her and placed his hands on her waist, pulling her chest against his. their eye contact remained unfazed and stayed connected, making the bulge in his pants grow even more. the two were so close, they could feel each other's breath fanning one another's skin. vivian's eyes flickered from his to his lips and back quickly, but he noticed.

matt swiftly grabbed her jaw and pulled her into him, crashing his lips down onto hers. they moulded together so perfectly, both wanting this moment to last forever. after a moment of their lips working together, he pulled back to look into her eyes again, trying to see if there was any hesitation or reluctance, to which he found none, so he continued.

once again, their lips met in a heated passion. vivian's hands traveled up matt's chest and one set on the back of his neck while the other grabbed a fistful of his hair. upon giving it a light tug, a low groan escaped matt's lips and it made her stomach twist in need. he was so pretty to her and the sound that just came from his mouth almost had her cumming already.

matt's tongue flicked across her bottom lip, begging for entrance, which she granted. their kisses were rushed and wet and hot, tongues gliding over one another with ease. his hands traveled down her body once more, gripping onto her ass and squeezing tightly, causing her to moan against his lips. it drove him crazy.

he briefly pulled away from her and ordered, "take your shoes off."

once both of them had removed their shoes, their lips reconnected. matt's hands went down to her thighs, swiftly pulling her up and walking her to the bed. he laid her down and crawled on top of her, his legs slightly straddling her thighs as his crotch rubbed against hers.

he broke their kiss and turned her head, and began leaving sloppy wet kisses up and down her neck, biting down here and there. both of their breathing's were heavy, lips swollen and red, glistening with each other's saliva.

"fuck, you look so good tonight, vivi." he groaned against her skin, grinding his hips against hers, a soft moan coming from both of them.

her hands immediately reached down to his sweatpants, her fingers tugging at the string the tightened them. once the tie was undone, her fingers looped behind the elastic, but his hand stopped her for just a moment.

"are we really doing this?" matt asks her, wanting nothing more than for them to finally give in to their strongest desires, but also needing to make sure this was exactly what she wanted as well.

vivian frantically nodded, "please. i want you so bad, matty.”

matt was rock hard at this point and her response caused his dick to twitch, begging for her. the two pulled apart once again, both of them removing their tops, before connecting again. their kiss was heated, both of their tongues exploring each other's mouths.

when she tugged on his hair again, he pulled away and began leaving wet kisses down her neck and to her torso. his hands roamed her body, before landing on her boobs. he took turns with them, squeezing and tweaking one nipple while his mouth was sucking and nibbling on the other. vivian was letting out soft moans that only encouraged matt even more. she was loving every bit of the way he touched her, and he was loving every bit of the way she felt from his touch.

"take these off." vivian spoke in a low tone, pulling at his pants once again.

he swatted her hand away and pinned them to her side, "ah, ah. we're doing things my way, pretty girl."

her hips bucked into his, her softly whining, wanting to just feel him already. he grinned at her reaction and kissed down her stomach, sucking at the skin on the way down. he parted from her and pulled her skirt down, tossing it to the side. his hand reached up and met her heat, rubbing her core through her panties and stockings. he could feel how wet she was through the clothing and it turned him on so much. she bucked her hips at him again, wanting to feel more.

"fuck, you're already soaking wet." he licked his lips, tossing his head back. "take these off, baby."

she hurriedly removed the rest of her clothes, as he did the same to himself, leaving them both naked. vivian was in awe of him. he looked so hot and the way his fully erect dick hit his stomach, once free from its restriction, made her want to take him down her throat. matt peered over at her body, his mouth watering at the sight. she was truly beautiful. he smiled at her and lent down, connecting their lips for a few soft kisses.

he then made his way down, lowering himself in between her legs. he was dragging his lips over her inner thighs and it was making her go crazy. he was teasing her and it was working.

"matt." she choked out, breathless from what he was doing to her. "p-please."

"please what, baby?" he smirked at her, licking all around her, except for where she needed him most.

"i want your face buried in my pussy." she admits, her face heating up at her own confession.

"as you wish."

with that, he began devouring her. his tongue was lapping her folds, sucking onto every piece of her. she was a moaning mess, her hands gripping his hair as she pushed them closer together. matt was in heaven. the way she sounded and tasted, he was close to cumming without her even touching him.

"you taste so good." he moaned against her pussy, sending vibrations through her body that left her trembling.

matt's finger found his way up, softly slicking between her folds while he sucked her clit. without warning, he shoved it into her hole, causing her body to slightly jerk as a loud moan escaped her lips. he kept pumping his finger in and out before adding another. with that, and his mouth doing wonders, vivian knew she was close.

"oh my- fuck." she moaned out, tugging on his hair. "i'm so close, matty."

he picked the pace up with his hand, inserting another finger as his thumb came into contact with her clit. he rubbed it back and forth, while his eyes watched her face. her eyebrows were furrowed with her eyes closed, and her bottom lip was between her teeth, attempting and failing to control her moans. upon feeling him stare, she looked down at him and both were starstruck. matt's face was glistening with her juices, his eyes holding so much lust and adoration in them. vivian's eyes were heavy and her face looked so fucked out.

"cum for me, baby." he orders, placing his mouth back into her, flattening his tongue against her pussy.

and just like that, her legs were shaking and she was releasing into his mouth with a loud pornographic moan. he sucked up every drop of her arousal, loving the way she tasted. then, he hovered back over her and shoved his fingers in her mouth for her to taste. she licked all over them and sucked hard, causing his dick to twitch. after removing his fingers from her mouth, he gripped her jaw and slammed his lips on hers. they shared an open wet kiss, tongues sliding all over as they both tasted her.

vivian reached her hand down, finally meeting his dick for the first time. he was rock hard, and emitting crazy heat. matt tossed his head back at the feeling of her hand on his shaft, inhaling sharply.

"i want you to fuck me so bad." she bit her lip and tightened her hand around him, pumping a few times before he abruptly flipped her over.

"face down, ass up."

she immediately complies, eager to be fucked like there's no tomorrow. her ass was in the air and her face buried into the bed, and matt sat there for a moment, taking in the view. he could see her pussy dripping, in need of his dick.

"you want me to fuck you like a little slut, huh?" he asks, his hands kneading her cheeks, his thumb running over her folds.

he placed his dick against her pussy, sliding it around, soaking it in her juices. once he rubbed it against her clit, she moaned and pushed her ass closer to him, but he stopped her. suddenly his hand came across her ass in a fast a hard motion, a loud smack sounding throughout the room.

she let out a whimper and he said, "i asked you a question.”

"please." she begged, "i just want you to make me your slut."

with that, he shoved his dick inside her without warning. she gasped loudly, not expecting all of him right away. he gripped her waist and began thrusting in and out of her. her shock immediately vanished and was replaced with pleasure.

"mm. you feel s-so good inside me." she moans in between each thrust.

"yeah, i bet you love the way i fuck you. i want you to cum all over my dick."

matt was fucking her fast and hard, her hands were clinging to the sheets beneath them. matt's breathing was heavy, he was doing everything in his power not to cum because she felt so good around him. as if he lost all control, he grabbed both of her arms and pulled them back, holding them together behind her, then started pounding even harder. she felt so full from him, she started bouncing her ass onto him, meeting him halfway, causing him to let out a string of moans and cuss words.

her entire body was shaking, the sound of skin slapping filled the air as she cried out. he was making her feel so good. he then reached below her, his fingers meeting her clit, and rubbing in a fast motion.

"OH FUCK!" she practically screamed, she was going crazy.

nobody has ever made her feel this way, and she wanted it forever. and so did matt. he was enjoying every single thing about it.

"i-i'm about to cum." she moans out.

matt groaned in return, "me too, baby. cum with me."

a second later, the room filled with loud high pitched moans. vivian's legs shook as she climaxed, her cum dripping down matt's dick. his hot load shot inside her, mixing both of their juices as he kept fucking her to ride out their high together.

vivian fell forward, matt collapsing on top of her. they were both trying to catch their breath, having just had the best orgasm of their lives. he pulled out and fell onto his back, laying right beside her. the two looked over at each other with goofy grins on their faces. she leaned into him, planting her lips on his, creating a passionate kiss between the two.

"i hope you know you belong to me now." matt tells her once they pull apart.

"that sounds like heaven." she smiled at him, "all i ever wanted was to be yours."

—

a/n : should i post the rest? i have another matt one and 2 chris, lmkkk. back to working on requests, feel free to send in more ���

[toomuchracket]

fourth of july (politician!matty x reader smut)

another summer75 fic. warnings for shibari (light) and breeding kink (HEAVY). bon appetit <3

“you're sure you don't need anything else, ma'am?”

“thanks, claudia, but we're all good,” you smile at your assistant, her eyes flitting between the windows (and the party on the lawn outside) and you. “it's been a busy morning - i think you should go and relax, do some celebrating of your own, yeah?”

her eyes light up. “really?”

you laugh. “of course. just, piece of advice? don't drink anything anyone tries to serve you from a fishbowl tonight,” you grimace, shaking your head. “too many 5th of julys have been ruined for me that way. and for the president, actually, he was so much worse than i was at parties. stupid boy.”

claudia giggles. “noted, ma'am. i'll be sure to have a glass of water after every drink, too.”

“smart girl. well, i'll leave you to it,” you stretch, moving to close the door to the presidential living quarters. “have a good weekend!”

“and you, ma'am!”

closing the door behind you, you wander through towards your bedroom. aside from the sound of your husband humming to himself in there, the place is quiet, only the two of you around.

just how you like it.

you smile as you enter your bedroom, ogling matty as he pulls his shirt over his head. his hands move to his belt, but he stops his undressing in favour of walking towards you with love in his eyes and a grin on his lips; you pretend to sulk, but open your arms anyway. “damn, i was enjoying the show.”

“of course you were,” matty kisses your forehead, pulling back to arm's length to look at you. “i don't look half as good as you do, though. i love that dress, baby.”

“i thought it was pretty,” you clasp your hands behind matty's neck, and his find home on your hips. “it's really uncomfortable, though.”

it's a blatant lie, and you're sure you aren't being very subtle, but matty has the good grace to play along anyway. “is that right, my love?” he coos, hands moving across your back to undo the halter neck “well, we'd better take it off, then.”

“fabulous idea, mr. president,” you snuggle into him, sighing when the fabric of your dress falls to the ground and your bare chests press together. matty's arms wrap tightly around you, and the feeling of home washes over you. the two of you hug in comfortable silence for a second, your fingers gently twisting into your husband's curls, before you speak softly. “m'really proud of you, you know. it was a good morning. and i know you were reluctant to host anything today, but… i'm glad you did. it was fun.”

matty huffs out a laugh into your hair. “was only reluctant because it cut short our usual long weekend plans. and you know how much i love those.”

his hands travel towards your ass, sliding under the waistband of your thong to squeeze it; you giggle softly in response, pressing a long kiss to your husband's neck and enjoying the moan he lets out. “sometimes i wonder if you'll ever get bored of driving to the cabin whenever we get a few days off.”

“if we ever get rid of the shibari rigging hooks, i might.”

“as if we'd do that. be serious, please, matthew.”

matty laughs, scooping you up and dropping you onto the bed. “i love you, my perfect little rope bunny. and wife, obvs.”

“love you too. i also love that you've got your priorities straight,” you bite your lip as you watch matty undo his trousers, leaning up to kiss him messily as he crawls up to hover over you. it's a good kiss, sloppy and passionate, one that goes straight to your underwear and prevents your brain from thinking about anything other than matty inside you. “fuck, baby. tie me up now, please? we still have,” you glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table. “two hours before we need to start driving. pleeeeeeease?”

matty simply raises a brow.

you pout, batting your lashes. “come on, baby, please? just a little design? a little preview for the rest of the weekend?” you wrap your legs around his waist, smiling prettily the way you've done to get whatever you want from matty since you were twenty-two. “because you love me?”

at that, your husband sighs, nodding and trying to keep the smile from his face. sap. “legs only, alright? just because i love you.”

“mhmm,” you take his face in your hands and pull him in for a kiss, smiling at the way he melts against you. “thank you, my love.”

“sweet girl,” matty strokes your cheek, before moving off you and reaching to pull a box from under the bed; inside, you see pink rope neatly arranged in loops of figure eights. your heart leaps and core gushes at the sight, but matty makes a face at it. “not very patriotic colour-wise, is it?”

“pretty sure the amount of time i'm gonna spend on my knees worshipping you this weekend will make up for that, mr. president.”

“fuck. underwear off, now,” your husband quickly takes two separate loops of rope from the box, twisting them into position while you shimmy your thong and lie down, practically vibrating with happy anticipation. “and speaking of knees - bend them for me, darling, that's it. tell me if it's too uncomfortable, yeah?”

“i will.”

“good girl.”

with that, he begins to loop the rope around your left thigh and shin, securing them together with an intricate pattern you hope to god will leave a mark on your skin. you can't remember whether it was you or matty who first suggested trying shibari a decade or so ago, but you both took to it with enthusiasm - since then, every extended private moment you've had together has involved some sort of artistic bondage, exploring new designs and positions and making each other feel good. the rope took a bit of getting used to, initially, but now you love the feeling of it against your bare skin; it's a reminder that, for at least the next few hours in your busy lives, it's just you and matty, alone together, getting to love and appreciate and care for each other at the most primal, most intimate level.

once he's done, matty taps your bound knee. he moves back, smiling at his handiwork. “that feel alright, gorgeous?”

“yeah. thank you, angel.”

he blushes, and your heart flutters. “you're welcome, my darling. gonna do the other one now, yeah?”

“go ahead.”

the two of you settle back into comfortable silence, matty continuing his work while you smile at the way his tongue pokes out of his lips in concentration, one of the things that first endeared him to you when you met at law school. suddenly, those lips part as he speaks. “isn't it funny how many people just, like, handed their babies to us at the garden party this morning?”

your brow furrows slightly. interesting topic of conversation. “happens to me quite a lot, to be honest.”

“yeah, i've noticed. s'happened eighteen times to you in the past week alone.”

your brow furrows further. “you've been counting?”

matty's cheeks go pink again. “well… not deliberately, darling, i just,” he sighs, finishing off the shibari and sitting back on his heels to look at you sheepishly. “i can't help but notice when you're interacting with babies at the minute. like, i really can't.”

oh. how interesting. and, if you're honest, not entirely unwelcome. you smile. “you think it's time?”

his eyes widen. “for… for us to-?” he clears his throat. “for us to… have a baby of our own?”

“yeah, sweetheart,” you reach up to caress his face, smiling softly at the way matty leans into your hand. “do you think now’s the time?”

“well… yeah.”

you smirk, removing your hand from your husband's face so you can use it to pull your bent legs open as wide as possible and expose your glistening cunt. “let's make a baby, then.”

matty blinks. suddenly, your instructions seem to sink in, and he follows, not even bothering to take his boxers off fully before sliding through your wetness and pushing inside you; his lips meet yours as he bottoms out, the two of you sighing into each other's mouths.

home at last.

for a moment, there's nothing but the two of you kissing like teenagers, passionate and messy and desperate, matty throbbing inside you in the most delicious way, and then he moves, pulls his hips back and snaps them forward again, over and over and over, drawing soft moans from your lips every time he slides in. a huge part of the reason matty was elected, everyone says, is because he does everything with focus and conviction - the way he fucks is no different.

he pulls back from your lips, resting your foreheads together in the most tender way and sliding his hands over yours against the pillow; when you intertwine your fingers, he smiles. “sweet girl, taking me so fucking well.”

“your sweet girl.”

“that's right. my girl, all mine,” matty beams. something about the ownership reminder spurs him on, makes him thrust faster and harder and deeper into you. you whimper his name, and he kisses your nose. “what is it, darling? need me to fill you up, is that it? put my baby in you and let everyone know you're mine?”

the words go straight to your cunt, brain too hazy with pleasure to properly take them in. “please.”

“cum for me first, sweetheart, and i will,” he coos, stroking your face and dropping a sweet kiss onto your nose. “touch that pretty clit for me, yeah? and then i'll fill up that needy little pussy of yours. promise.”

“okay,” you exhale, hand sliding down your sweat-shiny chest and between your legs, circling your aching clit the way you know matty would. ecstasy shoots through your body the instant you touch the bundle of nerves, causing you to whine and clench around your husband's dick - which in turn makes him whine - but, somehow, it isn't enough. “matty,” you croak out, blinking up at him. “need you to talk to me. please.”

“oh, my darling,” matty grins, not unkindly. “need me to tell you how good you feel, how much i love how fucking tight your cunt is? even after all this time, after all the pounding i've given you, she's still clenching around me like a fucking vice. could stay inside you forever, you know. wanna do that. i think you want me to, as well, don't you, gorgeous? feels like it, anyway.”

the pleasure's practically blinding you at this point, tightening your muscles and clouding your mind - all you can do is frantically rub your clit, and whimper. “yeah, yeah, want you in me all the time.”

“needy girl,” matty's lips crash onto yours, tongue licking into your mouth before he murmurs against you. “can't fucking wait to fill you up properly, sweetheart. please tell me you're close.”

“i am, oh shit, i am!” you aren't lying, either - your legs are quivering as much as they can within the rope, and the pressure building in your lower stomach feels like it's about to reach breaking point. you're vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face and pooling on your chest, but all you can focus on right now is matty. “gonna cum, please, please let me cum.”

your husband leans forward, cock driving impossibly deep and lips ghosting over your ear. “do it, my darling. cum for me, let me give you a baby. our baby.”

and that's all it takes.

you cling to matty like a liferaft as your orgasm hits, although the more accurate nautical metaphor would be to liken him to an anchor; without him above you, hands digging into the flesh of your legs almost as much as the rope, you're certain you'd float away, buoyant from sheer fucking ecstasy. he cums with a guttural moan of your name as you clench around him, kissing you deeply as his thrusts get more and more shallow, and you don't think you've ever been more full, metaphorically (of love) and literally (of cum, crass as it sounds). once he's done, your husband nuzzles into the crook of your neck, both of you sweaty and breathing heavily.

for a few blissful minutes, you stay like that, weaving a hand into matty's messy curls and scratching his scalp while you exchange murmured “i love you”s. your eyes flick sideways to the alarm clock, and you tap his shoulder in a feeble attempt to get him to move. “sweetheart, we need to get cleaned up before we leave.”

“just give it another minute or two, darling,” matty mumbles into your skin; he pulls himself up just enough to kiss you, looking adoringly into your eyes. “have to make sure the baby sticks, after all.”

you giggle, stroking his flushed face with your thumb. “we'll miss seeing the fireworks from the cabin if we don't get a move on, though.”

“trust me, my love, you'll get your fireworks this weekend no matter when we leave.”

“whatever you say, mr. president.”

[god-has-entered-my-body]

On a train (again) - Matty Healy x fem! Reader

A/N: oh my god hello im alive i think. classic abouttofillhisshoes era style banner im going back to my roots. mpind revival no one was ready for ❤️

content warnings: smut, blowjobs, fingering, switchy throughout for sure, fingering, sex in public spaces the fucking freaks cant wait, they get caught and its as terrible as it sounds

word count: 1.7k

This is a horrible idea, you're sure. 

A cheap soap bar clatters onto the ground as you somehow force the door of the bathroom shut, squeezing you and matty into the cramped space. There's barely any room to stand, your knees touching his and foreheads pressed against each other, both of you panting heavily as Matty’s grin makes something stir inside of you. 

“We’re fucking mental for this, you know that?” He breathes out, that stupid smile contagious as you roll your eyes at him, smashing your lips together in a heated, sweaty kiss. 

The train rumbles underneath you and you can hear fellow passengers chattering outside, the danger of it all having you drip into your panties, soaked through in a matter of seconds. Hands roam aimlessly up and down your figure, clothes torn off haphazardly as Matty paws at your lacy bra, desperate enough to pull the cups down instead of unbuttoning it as he usually would. You dont have enough time for propriety, definitely not. 

“Need you now, want you so fucking bad babe.” you moan into his ear, lips attached to you throat as Matty bites and sucks messy hickeys into the skin of your neck, his tongue finding the little charm of your necklace in an instant. The cursive M that dangles on a dainty silver chain, forever in plain sight drives the boy insane, his eyes glued to the metal while his fingers work at pulling your too-tight skirt up and over your hips. 

His hands squeeze the fat of your sides, kneading and bruising the skin harshly as you whimper into his touch, hands scratching his back raw, red lines visible in the crooked mirror behind him. You see a light flicker, but pay it absolutely no mind when Mattys fingers finally pull your thong to the side, not even bothering to slip it off. No, he needs you just as much as you need him. Right. Fucking. Now. 

The rough pads of his fingers swipe at your clit and you let out a whine, a hand quickly clamped over your mouth to muffle your noises. The door might be thick, but it isn't soundproof. The thought of someone walking in on you in this precarious position makes your heart thrum in your ribcage, and an excited smile creeps up onto your lips. 

“Fuck, oh my god, Matty.” you whimper as he speeds up, curls obstructing your vision but not hiding the way Matty bucks his hips forward, back flexing in the mirror behind him in a way that makes your breath hitch. 

You're breathless, Mattys fingers working at a dizzying pace and the feel of his cold rings grazing your walls makes you clench around him, earning yourself a proud chuckle. “You’re so fucking hot, angel. Got me rock hard for you, all f’you” Matty’s voice is raspy, low as he whispers filth into your ears, the knot in your core tightening with each syllable that leaves his spit covered lips. “Doing so good for me sweetheart, gonna make me come s’fast.” you slur your words, but the praise spurs him on, his non dominant hand holding you tightly and you can barely contain the pathetic moan that threatens to rip itself from your throat as the heel of his hand grinds against your clit deliciously. 

It doesn’t take long until you're close, it can't, given the location you’re both currently in. You’re almost embarrassed at how quickly you whisper the words “M’xlose, fuck- please baby.” into his ear, burying your head into his neck as your orgasm washes over you in mind numbing waves, Matty’s tongue nipping at your earlobe driving you fucking insane. 

And right when you think you're done, exhausted, Matty takes his slick covered fingers, and sticks them into his own mouth. The way he sucks on them is absolutely obscene, and it awakens something more inside of you. “Y’taste so good darling, like honey.” you’d cringe at his painfully cheesy comment if it wasn't for the lust filled look he was giving you, eyes filled with suggestion and willingness.

You dont think as you drop down to your knees, banging your heels against the door in the process. The position is cramped and awkward, yes, but all of that fades away the second you see the way he strains against his jeans, twitching at the way you look up at him, batting your mascara covered eyelashes. 

“What's got you this worked up, hm?” you tease, a hand coming up to squeeze his ass firmly, making Matty yelp in surprise. “You’re a fuckin minx is what you are. Got me hard and now you’re teasing.”

“Jesus, you complain too much, don't you think?” you bite back before biting for real, taking the fly of his jeans between your teeth and pulling it down slowly, relishing in the way Matty threads his hand into your hair, tugging unintentionally as his fingers catch a knot, making you whine at the sudden strike of pain and pleasure through your body. 

Matty whimpers and leans against the unstable sink behind him, gripping onto it with his other hand. The faint wet spot on the front of his boxers as you pull the trousers down makes you giddy, licking your lips in anticipation. Matty knows better than to say something now, not when hes so fucking close. “Please.” is the only word that slips past his pressed together lips before you take him out of his underwear, pressing a teasing kiss to the tip of his leaking cock. 

You resist making a comment on how wet he is, wanting to make this last at least a few minutes before he spills down your throat. But its just too fucking good to pass up. 

“God, you're just soaked for me, aren't you angel? Just need me that badly.” 

Matty nods frantically, eyes screwed shut in ecstasy as you guide him into your mouth, the warm wetness of your throat sending him into a frenzy. He feels like he's reached some sort of other world, pure pleasure enveloping his body as you tongue at him, your little hums of satisfaction at his reactions making him louder and louder, threatening to expose the both of you. 

Matty’s eyes widen as you guide his hand to push you forward, nodding slightly as he gives you a look of confirmation. “You’re a fucking wet dream, fuck.” 

Your mascara flows freely down your cheeks as he grips your hair harshly, pulling you back before thrusting his cock back into your warm mouth, small gasps of pleasure filling the cramped bathroom. 

The both of you freeze when you hear a quiet back from outside, scared to death it might be a knock. Ten seconds go by, then thirty, and you're sure the person had moved on once realising the door was locked. You shoot Matty a relieved look, and he giggled in return, whispering an exhilarated “Could you imagine if they had realised what we were doing in here? Id fucking die of embarrassment. 

“You’re getting your dick sucked, how could that possibly be embarrassing?” you answer, raising your eyebrows at him, and a string of spit connects your lips to his tip. Matty doesn't take his eyes away from that spot the entire time you speak. “Yeah, in a train bathroom, it's all dirty in here!” 

“Can’t be dirtier than what we’re doing, can it?” you grin, sticking your tongue out to lap up the precum drooling from his cock. 

The feeling of him hitting the back of your throat over, and over, and over again makes you drip between your thighs, your hips shifting slightly to try and get some friction on the seam on your panties. Matty pants loudly, biting his lip as your eyes tear up even more, your makeup absolutely ruined in your effort. 

“M’so fucking close, darling girl, fuck you feel so good.” He moans, tightening his grip in your hair even more, forcing you in place as he fucks your throat, hard. You can barely form a coherent thought, the sound and smell and taste of him filling every sense. You arent prepared when we finally does spill into your mouth with a guttural groan, holding you down as the taste of come lands on your tongue. You swallow, much to Matty’s satisfaction, but not before showing him the remnants of his orgasm.

“Gonna fucking kill me babe, that was amazing.” You grin at him, aching knees almost buckling underneath you as you get up to kiss him, his little whine a the taste of himself on your lips makes your head spin. The bathroom reeks of sex and sweat, your hair is a mess and Matty’s shirt is still half undone as you open the door and peer out, being met with a pair of piercing blue eyes. 

An old man stares at you from a seat facing the bathroom, a look of disgust on his face as you pull back into the space, the horror evident in your expression telling Matty everything he needed to know. 

You both do the walk of shame down the aisle, making uncomfortable eye contact with multiple passengers who you now know definitely heard you. God, were you embarrassed. 

By the time you make it back to your still empty seats, both of you are red in the face, yet still giggling at the absurdity of the situation.

“Never again. We are never doing that again.” you force out, letting your head fall onto his shoulders. 

The both of you burst out into a fit of laughter as Matty replies. 

“Was hot though, you on your knees-” 

“Never. Again. “ 

[blondwhxrewrites]

I was wondering if you could maybe do Mattheo comforting reader? I do genuinely struggle to eat daily, I usually eat 1 meal a day. So maybe readers crying about her body in her dorm and Mattheo catches her, or Mattheo notices her not touching her food. Hope that’s ok for you, (also I wasn’t venting!! 😉)

Anon if you ever need someone to talk to my DMs are always open, I also struggle to eat too. I know how hard and exhausting it can be 🫶

Mattheo placed the tray of food down in front of you. He reached out gently grasped your chin and he tilted your head up so that you would look at him. "Princess you need to eat." He wiped away your tears while nudging the tray of food towards you with his other hand. "I just need you to eat one thing okay?"

He had come in after dinner worried because you missed dinner only to see you crumpled on your bed sobbing. He knew your struggles when it came to eating—the way you would skip meals simply because you didn't feel hungry or how you couldn't eat sometimes no matter how hard you tried to. You had the nasty having of forgetting to eat sometimes forgetting for days.

"I can't Matty..."

He cooed, sitting down next to you and taking you into his arms. "I know honey but you need to try." He picked up a piece of toast with jam spread on it.

"Just take a bite—Its okay if you need to spit it out."

You nodded hesitantly reaching out and taking the piece of toast. You stared at the piece of food, brows furrowing in hesitation. You took a bite out of the toast chewing and then swallowing—which took everything you had to do.

Mattheo smiled pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "You're doing great princess I'm so proud."

[lottiecrabie]

pray for my soul. part four – matty healy

sneaking around with matty healy might forsake you, but at least it’s fun.

warnings: 18+, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, joint fingering, masturbation, dry humping, mirror sex, thigh riding, restraints, roleplay, religious imagery, pfms typical desecration

part four of five

20,067 words

Matty’s grip on your thighs is brutal. He has to: your legs trash around the sheets wildly, bucking into his mouth. His tongue meets your clit with deadly accuracy. He rubs at it with the back of his tongue, a new trick that has you biting your lip until your chin is numb, tugging at the roots of his hair.

His nails dig into your flesh, crescent moon scars to cherish when he’s gone. There’s faded purple bruises all over your body, hidden under your clothes. Thank God for cardigans, for turtlenecks, for swallowing sweaters; all the modest clothes your mother buys in pretty shades of pastels are perfect smoke shows for the hickeys Matty litters on you religiously. 

You love to trace the imprints of him. On your hips, your waist, your legs. Pretty colors on the underside of your breasts, still burning with soothing after-kisses. In front of the mirror, you trail your fingertips over the temporary tattoos, feeling like his name is permanently engraved on you. 

That’s what he’s doing now, spelling M A T T Y on your bundle of nerves as his fingers fuck into you. You put the letters together with a moan, some vertiginous thrill at both the feel and the idea. He’s marking you. He’s ruining you. You’re letting him. 

“Matty, please,” you whimper, raking through his sweaty curls. He hums, delicious resonance on your clit. Euphoria shoots up your spine; you clench around his fingers, drenching them in your slick. “I’m close. Fuck, I’m so—” Your head rolls. A shattering orgasm threatens the edges of you— you know that now, know the telltale feel of it by heart. 

His mouth leaves your cunt. You whine, frowning at the sudden loss of feeling, bucking into his fingers with renewed fervor to make up for it. “Look at me,” Matty orders. “I want to see you when you fall apart.”

It’s an herculean effort just to open your eyes, but when you finally do, Matty dives back between your legs restlessly, rubbing at you with a frenzied rhythm. You struggle to keep your gaze locked with his, trying to muffle the desperate cries you want to release. 

You’re close again— right there, really. You don’t warn him. He knows the signs anyway, knows them probably better than yourself. His eyes darken at the sight of you, flushed and panting, shirt pulled off, bra cups lowered just enough to reveal your pebbled breasts, skirt bunched uselessly around your waist; a show you put on nearly every night. Just for him. 

His hips grind into the bed, unconsciously humping the covers, surely overwhelmed with the sight and the taste and the smell. You feel guilty. For all the time Matty has spent on his knees in the past weeks, you haven’t returned the favor. You think you should probably— Matty curls his fingers just so, and now you’re not thinking of anything at all, breaking apart on his tongue. 

He comes breathless out of your legs, grinning lazily like he’s just so proud of you for doing the easiest task of climaxing. He climbs up your body as you pant, kissing your stomach, your neck, your lips. 

His tongue slips into your mouth, holding the side of your face like you could shatter between his fingertips. He tastes like you. You don’t hate it. Matty is still hard between your thighs, pressing into you as he tilts his head, finding a better angle to steal the breath right from your lips. 

You break away, eyes still firmly closed, mind spinning languidly. “You can—” You open your eyes, searching his frowning stare. Eyebrows furrowed, Matty almost seems to fear your next words. “You can… you know.”

Worry spills away from his face, replaced by amusement. He smiles teasingly at you. “What?” 

You huff, blushing. “You know.” Your hands dig into his shirt, embarrassment spreading through you, shaking you out of the happy blur post-orgasms bring you. “Touch yourself,” you finally complete, looking away, because Matty is clearly unwilling to help, preferring watching you squirm instead. 

“Yeah?” He laughs, nosing your cheek. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, suddenly hyperaware of him, of how hard he is between your legs. You already feel ready for another go. “I wanna see you,” you whisper, choked. 

Matty’s head rises at that. Gone is any trace of teasing. He’s staring at you like he could eat through your flesh, like he could dig under your bones. Like he wants you— right now and then. Your head spins. You almost consider saying yes. 

He kneels above you, hovering, each knee siding your waist. Your hands find them shyly. He peers down at you with a smirk; his turn to give you a show. Unbuttoning his jeans, Matty lowers his boxers, revealing his hard, leaking cock. 

Fire burns down your veins. You swallow thickly, eyeing his red tip, the vein running down his underside. It’s different than seeing it between the latticed holes of the confessional— realer. 

Matty wraps a hand around himself, stroking slowly, thumb wiping at his tip. He spreads the precum down his length. His lips part at the first touch, a smothered groan gracing his lips. He’s beautiful. 

Your fingers dance on his knees, tingling with envy. You want to reach out, to touch him, to feel him. More than that, though, you’re scared. Of doing it wrong, of being bad, of new things you don’t know. 

Matty doesn’t seem to mind, however. His strokes quicken, already done teasing himself, instead chasing after his earth-shattering end. Your eyes flicker between his cock and his face, never knowing which spectacle is better to look at, always distracted by a twisting motion or a low groan scrunching his face. You suddenly understand him, understand his unsteady and evermoving gaze when you’re moaning under him. How you want to splinter apart, see everything. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He asks, shortwinded. 

You nod, too fascinated to blush and shy at your own eagerness. “Yes. Yes.”

His hips fuck into his own fist, tip glistening with precum. He passes a hand through his curls, eyes rolling into his head. You smile cruelly, pinching his knees. “Look at me,” you repeat back to him, devious. 

Matty’s eyes snap open, his face falling forward to stare at you. His cheeks redden. You smile at that, power and thrill swirling inside your soupy brain. 

His strokes grow desperate and irregular; he must be close. Every time his thumb swipes at his tip, Matty jerks, biting on his lip, trying to swallow a cry. Your head cocks, grinning at him. “It’s not so easy keeping quiet, huh?” You tease. Finally he knows how it feels to bite back uncontrollable sounds, knows how it really is when there’s no grinding cunt muffling all the pretty noises he usually unashamedly lets out.  

A breathy laugh leaves his swollen lips. “Shut up.” His arm flexes, eyes scrunching close and then opening as he remembers your demand. “Shit,” he cries, shaking his head. “I’m gonna—” 

He makes a move to move off you, but you still him by his knees, pushing down the bunched fabric of your skirt to make room. You stare at him unflinchingly, a smile digging into your cheek. His eyebrows rise in surprise, lust glazing over his eyes, but then his head falls forward, face wrinkling as he comes with a fucked-out groan. Ropes of cum spill on your stomach, painting your belly white. 

Matty catches his breath above you, panting as he stares at the sinful sight of you. You peer down at yourself too, fascinated. With a curious finger, you wipe at his cum, sucking it into your mouth. Vaguely salty. Not terrible. 

“Fuck,” Matty moans. Your eyes snap to his to find him already watching you. You grin around your finger. 

Devilishly, you catch another string of cum, reaching up to his mouth with a smirk. “Open up,” you tease. 

Matty jumps, slapping your hand away with a disgusted sound. “Fucking gross.” 

You giggle, wiping your dirty finger on your stomach. Matty glares at you, clearly unimpressed by your pestering. He tucks himself back in his jeans, falling beside you on the bed, sweaty head on your pillows. He kisses the top of your hair, sighing satisfiedly. 

Your eyes flick to the clock. You groan, digging your face into his shoulder. “It’s dinner soon,” you lament. Not only do you have to go downstairs and sit around a table with your parents like you’re not still tingling with the memory of Matty’s hands on you, but your mother has convinced herself a diet is needed and now you can’t eat anything but overcooked vegetables and soup. 

“Well, I’ve already eaten.” You slap his stomach, rolling your eyes. He laughs. “Come on. It was right there.” 

“You don’t have to take every bait.” 

He grins down at you. “How else am I supposed to make you blush?” 

“Try a compliment, maybe.” 

A beat passes. Matty stares at you still, smiling and lighthearted, just as happy dazed by his own orgasm. Your heart slams against your chest with each passing second, stomach fluttering uselessly. “You’re very pretty,” he says, low and confessionally, unrushed. Of course, you feel a flush spread on your face. You look away embarrassed. “Well, would you look at that. It does work, too.” 

“Shut up,” you mutter, as though the words aren’t still coiling around the wrinkles of your brain. Matty laughs again, something easy. 

You sit up, staring down at the mess of your body. “I have to get cleaned up.” 

Matty nods, getting off the bed, bending down to put his sneakers back on. It’s still light outside. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Yeah,” you say, pretending your heart doesn’t pinch watching him go. “See you soon.” 

—

Sunday morning is a daze. You’re dozing off in church, limbs sore from Matty going down on you in the cramped spot of his passenger seat before driving you home after school. Your legs protest everytime you kneel, muttering back the prayers with a smothered gasp of pain. 

You pick your nails trying to not think of it. It feels almost too perfectly planned: Matty untethering all your connections to faith, dirtying them. A soiled confessional, a sullied bible, and now you sit in church and pinch at your thumb to stop imagining his fingers curling into you. 

It’s not very successful. Every passing thought has you throwing a guilty glance towards Matty’s unruly curls. He’s sitting diagonally from you, further up. How ironic that he seems to sail through church as you tangle yourself in the shadows. That you must look forward to find him in his pew, seemingly twiddling his thumbs as the sermon progresses on. 

You stand from your seat for the communion, following dutifully behind your parents. Matty doesn’t move. He stares straight ahead; so do you. Your heart races inexplicably in your chest as you walk the aisle, inching closer and closer to him; some vague buzzing thrill taught to react to his mere proximity. Soon, you’ll brush past him. Your cheeks grow hot. It’s silly— young and naive and innocent. 

He’s been between your thighs. He’s seen you naked. He’s licked your wetness off his lips. Yet you’re still flushing at the idea of a graze. 

He’s under your skin. 

You count the seconds between each step. You pinch at your thumb, trying to kill the growing excitement— or at least smother it. 

You bite your lip as you finally get to his pew. His hand rests on the armrest, bored. Your thigh could graze it if you swerved— it happens all the time. It’s not suspicious. People falter in their steps every day, get caught in their feet and bend into unsuspecting bodies. 

Your stare faces straight on, digging a hole in your father’s head. You won’t get distracted. Won’t be weak. Won’t indulge in your sinful thoughts where everyone can see.

It’s almost predictable. Matty reaches a hand out and tugs on your pleated skirt. You jump, spinning to him, the back of your thighs tingling from a graze of his knuckles. He stares straight on, head resting on his hand, grinning to himself. A giddy smile that cuts his lips up, impossible to wipe away. An innocent act you see right through.

Your heart races twice as hard, but you can’t tell if it’s from the public display anyone could have caught or from the mere sight of him. You’re twice as flushed when you turn back to the line, squeezing your thumb so hard it numbs. You feel slack on your bones, butter melting from the heat of him. You can’t stop thinking about him.

You finally reach the priest. Dazed, you open your mouth wide. He places the body of Christ on your tongue carefully. You bite it. 

—

The shower burns. It’s a boiling degree, like the heat could make you clean. You scrub at your skin and it seems to only make your mind dirtier; a perfect equilibrium of filth must always be balanced in your flimsy body. The soap lathers over the purples and now you’re thinking of Matty’s lips stretched into a grin, a serpent smirk, bending down to kiss you. 

Whispering some terribly reprehensible things that make you dizzy, make you grip onto his shoulders just to ground yourself to something tangible. Grazing down your chest, kissing each rib to watch your breathing speed up. Biting your hip for the surprised jump, a giddy giggle falling out of your mouth next. Licking a flat tongue up your folds to hear the laugh morph into a moan. 

The images are too vivid. You’re breathless, nipples pebbled under your soaping hand, growing embarrassingly wet between your thighs. Your body holds a memory of him even your mind can’t keep up with. His name crosses your brain and suddenly your cunt throbs, ready to welcome him in, practically begging for it. 

Your hips shift uncomfortably, feeling that typical heat that spreads through you whenever Matty throws you a dark look, promise catching in the sharpness of his smile. It’s the wrong thing to think about; now your belly flexes, everything in you pulled tight in preparation. Your body holds its breath. 

You groan, frustrated. You lower the temperature of the water, incapable of keeping up with the boiling fire this bathroom has caught on, lapping up the shower curtains. It’s at least a bit soothing on your hot skin. 

Though there’s still the problem between your thighs, of course. It doesn’t seem to satiate with the minute change, barely notices it. You sigh, grabbing the showerhead, hoping to wash away the wetness dripping down your thighs, the remaining filth on you. 

You angle the showerhead and— Oh. 

You jump, startled by the sudden feeling, heart racing. Wide eyes stare at the white tiles, blinking. You flick a look to the incriminating showerhead. You bite your lip, apprehensive as you slowly place it back between your legs. 

“Shit,” you cry, biting your lip to hold back the following moans threatening to come out. A hand on the wall holds you upright. You wrinkle your face, washed with burning ecstasy. Fucking shit. 

It hits your clit just right, incessant pressure practically attacking it. You roll your eyes, head falling backwards, pleasure building inside of you. Your legs spread further apart, upping the water pressure, biting back a scream. You follow the motions Matty usually licks on your bud; circles, up-and-downs, side-to-sides, shaking at the consequential new feelings 

You might very well tear your lips apart trying to keep quiet. Your forehead falls on the tiles, afraid of crumbling to the ground. Euphoria waves through your limbs, warning bells ringing in your mind. You slap a hand on your mouth in preparation, keeping the showerhead still as— 

You come apart with a muffled scream. The shower nulls into inexistence, water barely an existing concept as pleasure washes you. His name tingles your tongue. You swallow it.

You drop the showerhead as soon as your climax ends, overwhelmed and sensitive. You breathe harshly, staring as the water runs down the bath. You laugh to yourself, raking a hand through your wet hair. 

It’s the first time you’ve come without him. First time you’ve— a moment in the confessional passes through your mind, taunting you to use the word— masturbated since the last time, the one that brought you sticky deep into this mess. 

You came into the shower to wash yourself and you’ve managed to make it dirty. Still, as you step out, the bathroom drenched in heated smoke, you feel strangely clean. You wrap a towel around your flushed body, a slack, relaxed smile on your lips. 

—

The sheets are sweaty and sticky on your skin. You push them off, then feel oddly exposed, throwing them over your body again. You huff, twisting, laying on your back as you throw a glance at the clock. He’s not coming. 

It’s fine. Something must have come up. Perhaps he remembered a very important test for tomorrow and threw himself nose first in his studies. Perhaps his mother started noticing his cracked bedroom window and sealed it shut, preventing him from sneaking out to crash in her bed nearly every night. Perhaps he’s bleeding out in the streets somewhere.

Whatever the reason, it’s not like you have to see him anyway. You can sleep without his cheeky goodnight, your eyelids droopy and your thighs sticky as he gets dressed in a hurry. 

It’s just— Well, there was a bit of teasing today; grand, dirty promises whispered in the crook of your ear; ghosting touch as he passed you; heavy looks that made your hands shake as you solved an equation on the blackboard; kisses that never went to more. Now you’re keyed up, jittery and awake, and he’s not coming. 

You sigh again, passing two hands though your hair, trying to ignore the ache throbbing between your thighs. You purse your lips. The cross stares at you, chastising the inkling thought tugging at your mind. 

You shut your eyes and let a hand travel down your stomach. You near the hem of your underwear, hinting at the possibility. Your thighs clench in anticipation. You frown, trying to remember all the reasons you shouldn’t as your fingertips dig under the fabric and cup yourself. You’re already wet. 

It’s not like it would be the first time. What is one more in the grand scheme of things. It’s surely not gonna be that that forsakes you, of all the things. You dip one finger in, hitting your clit. You jolt and bite your lip, pleasure striking through you.

You start with slow circles. Relief immediately seeps down your stomach. You open your thighs further, giving you space as you attempt to hit your clit like he does. Your finger lacks the roughness of a callus. You make a low noise of frustration.

That damn callus and its filthy trail on your skin. On your collarbone as he nears your cross, rubbing the cool metal like he had to remind himself of your faith while kissing you. On your breast as he grabs, circling a nipple until you’re putty in his arms. On your stomach as he takes his sweet time traveling it down just to tease you. On your thighs as he grips them and keeps them apart for him. On your neck as he presses until you’re rolling your eyes and gasping. On your clit finally —finally— as he draws the letters of his name on it. 

You make a sound of pleasure. You copy him, rubbing M A T T Y on your bundle of nerves as if he was there in the room, as if it was his hand in your underwear and not your own. Thrill hits you. You rub harder, trying to find half the ecstasy he naturally coaxes out of you with knowing eyes and a sweet, devil tongue. You can’t seem to. 

Last time you touched yourself— properly touched yourself— you didn’t know what pleasure could be. Now, with the vivid memory of Matty’s hands and tongue in your mind, everything feels a little shortcoming. You try to speed up, but you can’t match the pace he does. 

Impatiently, you push the covers off your chest, grabbing your tits and palming them like him. Low heat boils under your skin and you shift your hips, glad to see that something is finally working. 

Matty in your bed. Matty fingering you. Matty licking his digits clean. Matty in the confessional with that low, implacable voice. Matty asking you to pray for him. Kneeling in front of him, hands clenched together. Matty tugging at his jeans’ button. Matty’s hand on your chin as he pushes it open for him. Matty—

“Hey, sorry I’m late I was—” You open your eyes in a panic, pulling your hand out of your underwear like you’ve been burned. Your heart races as you turn to the intrusion with a panicked look. 

Matty is at your window, staring at you with two arched eyebrows. A slight, devilish smirk rises on his lips. He knows. Cheeky, he takes a step towards the bed, voice dancing as he asks, “What are you doing?”

Your fingers are wet by your thigh, laying on the white sheet under the covers. You bite your lip. “Nothing.” He gives you an unimpressed look. 

“Show me your hand.” 

“No.”

His smile breaks his face. “Why’s that?” You scrunch your nose, shaking your head. He snickers at you, taking another step until he’s reached the bed. “D’you wanna know what I think?” Your breath hitches. He has that low, teasing voice that turns you on. “I think you were— what did we call it again? Being ‘impure with yourself’? Is that it, angel?”

You lick your teeth, your cheeks heating up. “Maybe.”

He clicks his tongue. “Couldn’t wait for me to get home, huh? Had to relieve that little ache inside of you right now? Burning and dripping for me all alone in bed? Fucking begging for it but there’s no one to help?” 

You pout at him. “Yes. You were late.” 

“I’m sorry, love. Family dinner got forcefully extended. Couldn’t wrangle out of it if I tried.” 

Matty turns around and walks away from the bed. You frown, resting on your elbows as you watch him go. He sits on your desk chair, facing you. He looks like he wants to eat you up. His chin nudges towards you. “Go on, then. Give me a show.” 

You flush, falling back on your pillows. You shake your head. “I can’t. ‘S not the same without you.” 

“What? You can’t touch yourself like I can? Can’t make you come like me?” You shake your head again, more fervent, more pleading. Matty coos, “Oh, poor little baby. If I’d known.”

He stands up and walks back to the edge of the bed. You’re surprised as he grabs your hand and tugs you out of it, making a noise of confusion. Still, you follow when he directs you to the full-length mirror. His front presses against your back, his breath heavy on your neck. You shiver. 

“I can’t let my perfect girl stranded like this again,” Matty whispers, dragging his knuckles down your arms. He reaches your wrist, swallowing your hand with his own. “C’mon, let me show you how.” He takes your hand to his mouth, sucking on your wet finger. Your breath hitches. He smirks around your digit. 

He wants to— You meet eyes with him through your reflection. He releases your finger with a pop, licking its length for good measure. It’s dirty, and you feel the hot resonance low in your belly. God, you want him.

You grab his wrist before he can move, puppeteering his hand down your stomach— that damn callus— and in your underwear. He indulgently lets you. “Can’t you just do it?” You whine. 

“What if I’m late again? What if I can’t come that day?” He nips at your cheek, husky and tempting as he whispers in your ear, “What if I want you to give me a show? What’ll you do then?” 

You press his index finger between your folds. You shift your hips slightly, rubbing yourself on his offered digit. Your head drops on his shoulder, moaning. Matty groans behind you. “I just want you,” you plead. “Touch me, please.” 

You can feel him pant against your back, his chest upping in quick, deep successions. His fingers dig into your hip, possessive and tempted, and then he pulls the hand from your underwear. You make a pained sound, missing him. 

“Just be patient,” he says, working you down while he tugs your panties from your legs. 

Your knees hit the fluffy pink carpet. He spreads your thighs open, giving the two of you a clear view of your cunt dripping for him. You blush, shy and embarrassed, turning to hide into his shoulder. 

Matty tuts. “Look at yourself, love,” he demands, pushing your head with a finger until you’re facing your reflection again. Your nipples are hard through your flimsy,  silk shirt. Your hair is tangled and sweaty. Your face is pulled tight in pleasure. Your pussy is wet, clit swollen and begging. You look fucked out and he hasn’t even done anything yet. You moan. It’s not the worst sight. 

“Show me what you were doing.” 

You don’t have the instinct to hesitate, already shoving your hand between your thighs. You bite back a moan as your finger hits your clit. Your head falls on his shoulder. You make artless circles, slow and lazy. 

“Good,” Matty praises in your ear, though he adjusts two fingers over your bud, pressing them in. The sensation is immediate, euphoria blooming under your skin. You wonder if it really has anything with technique or if your body just recognizes that it’s him. “That’s it, darling.”

He creates a rhythm, circling and swiping incessantly, getting your wrist used to the shapes. You follow dutifully, mewling for him, your cunt throbbing around nothing. You miss his long, spindly fingers, miss the way they curl into you. 

“Matty,” you whine and hope it’s enough. For good measure, you lock eyes with him in the mirror, fluttering your eyelashes at him. “Touch me.” 

He laughs in your hair, shaking his head. “You’re so greedy.” It should feel wrong, should feel shameful, but you giggle happily, feeling quite satisfied as he tugs your camisole up your chest. Your breasts are on display for him and he pinches one of your hard nipples. “Is that better?” 

“No,” you say, brain so hazy you forget good girls should never speak their mind— or even open their mouths for that matter. “I want your fingers inside of me.”

Matty smirks at you, raising his fingers from your peaked breasts and slipping them in your panting mouth. His ring tastes like iron on your tongue, like blood. It should feel foretelling, prophetic, but you just moan around them. He chuckles as he takes them out. Wet with drool, he rubs on your nipples again. “How about that?” 

You pout at him. “You’re doing it on purpose.” 

“You don’t need me,” he says, and his own hand draws yours lower, hinting at your entrance. You hold your breath, fluttering with need. “Female independence and all,” he teases. 

You shake your head vigorously. “I don’t want independence. I want you.” 

He snorts. “What? You want to be my little housewife?” This time, you nod, though just as fervently. He coos, rubbing your knuckles. “Want to lay in bed all day and wait for me to come home to eat you out? Bake me a pie so I’ll keep you happy and cockdrunk all year?” 

“I’m more inclined to you fingering me at the moment.” 

“Yeah?” His hand presses into yours and two of your fingers slide in. You gasp, straightening your back, getting used to the stretch. Only when you’re inside to your last knuckles that he whispers, “Sorry, love. I’m a feminist.” 

You throb around yourself. It’s an easy fit after having known his fingers. You don’t reach far, but it’s something. With delicate care, Matty makes you slide out, and you shudder against him. 

“Just like that,” he coos. “Slow at first.” You nod, thrusting in and out yourself. “Curl your fingers,” he demands, and you obey, biting your lip at the resulting feeling. “Perfect.”

He sets the pace with a sure, decisive hand. He picks up speed slowly, ignoring your thrilled wish to go faster, makes you thrust as deep as you can go, rubs your clit with the heel of your hand. You’re drenched to your knuckles, fucking yourself until euphoria spins your mind. 

“Look,” Matty demands, and you open your eyes. You stare at the filthy image of your cunt swallowing your fingers, over and over. You moan just like he knew you would. “So pretty. Aren’t you?”

“Y—Yeah.” 

“What are you thinking of? When you touch yourself, what do you think of?” 

“You,” you answer truthfully, still entranced by the show. 

He smirks. “I know.” Does he have to be so cocky? “But what?” 

“It depends.” He speeds up and your thighs shake with pleasure. Your wrist is growing sore, but you follow like a soldier marching to war. Anything for sweet release.

“Right now. Right before I arrived. What were you thinking of?” 

You’re drowning in pleasure, your neck slack on his shoulder. He pinches your nipple meanly, slowing your fingers, and you understand. You jolt awake, finding his dark, unflinching eyes in the mirror. Your reflection stares back, flushed and sweaty and gone, a mess just for him.

“I thought of you in the confessional. I thought of you making me pray, and me getting on my knees for you. You nudging my chin down, sweet in the gesture but rough on the fingertips, making my mouth wide open for you to—” Brain catches up to your tongue. You stop, suddenly embarrassed. 

Matty pants behind you. “What?” There’s no hint of teasing anymore, just raw need. You clench around your fingers at the sight, desire ravaging your stomach. 

Your lungs are on fire. He’s too close, and too there, and you can’t say. Good girls don’t speak. Good girls don’t finger themselves. Good girls don’t let dirty boys show them how. Good girls certainly don’t— Your cheeks heat. 

“What?” Matty repeats, presses. “Tell me, please.” As though to bargain, two of his own fingers slide into you. You gasp at the stretch, him there while you— Your room spins and spins around you. Your eyes focus on the spectacle, seeing your four fingers working together. 

You clench and clench around them, not used to the tight fit but so turned on and wet you barely register it. “Is this what you wanted?” Matty asks in your neck, pumping the four of your fingers in and out of you. You bite your lip so hard you might make it bleed trying to stop yourself from screeching. 

“Yes,” you admit, scrunching your face 

“Then give me what I want.” 

“I thought of sucking your cock,” you hurry out. Your brain is so liquidy with pleasure you can’t muster any shame anymore. “On my knees for you, and you pushing into my mouth, and gripping my hair, and your moans, and— Oh, fuck—” He curls your fingers in, hitting the spot you’ve been missing perfectly. The heel of your hand still rests on your clit and rubs sinfully. Your head falls on the mirror as you barely hold back cries. 

He rolls his thumb on your nipple. You’re overwhelmed with feeling, euphoria most of all, pleasure dancing and dancing around you. Matty fucks quick and hard— a reward. For speaking. You’ve never had that before. Something builds inside of you. You flutter around the joint digits, panting against the mirror, fogging up the glass. 

“Are you gonna come for me?” He breathes. You nod vaguely, too busy on the tension thinning inside of you. “Come on our fingers. Make a fucking mess.” 

“I—“ You wrinkle your eyebrows. Your skin buzzes and buzzes. “Matty—” The thread snaps. You straighten with a moan, shoving your free hand on your mouth to hold it in as ecstasy razes through your body. His arms tighten around you. He’s real and comforting as you crash from your high. “God,” is all you manage to say after it, a small giggle slipping from you. 

Matty kisses your cheek, then your neck, tickling. You wrinkle your nose, laughing some more. “Perfect girl. Soon you won’t even need me.” 

You roll your eyes. “That’s not true.” 

“This’ll be weird,” he warns, then slides the four fingers out of you. You groan, a little uncomfortable. You feel empty without the mess, clenching around nothing. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you nod. He pulls the camisole back over your breasts, though it does nothing to straighten out the fucked out look your reflection offers back. How strange to see what he sees. 

“Let’s get you to bed,” he whispers. You stand up on shaky legs. On the fuzzy carpet, a wet patch lays. 

—

You stare at Matty from opposite sides of the cafeteria. His friends talk loudly around him, throwing pieces of food at each other with rumbling laughs. He doesn’t partake, locking eyes with you, sucking on the spoon of his pudding indecently. He sticks his tongue out, licking it. You can’t stop following his mouth with a heavy gaze. His eyes are teasing. He knows the effect it plants inside of you. 

You throw one leg over the other, clenching your thighs to silence the feeling. Your friends talk about math class and the way Julia’s red lipstick makes her look like a whore, but it is null to your ears. Matty kisses his spoon. You stand up in a rush. “Sorry, I— I just remembered homework. I have to go.” 

“Oh,” Fanny says. “Okay.” You’re practically running out of the cafeteria before she finishes her single-worded sentence. You give a look back at Matty. He’s throwing his spoon on his tray, standing up. You grin, pushing the doors, thrill racing inside of you. You know he’s following. 

—

Some rock music you don’t know plays from Matty’s radio. You straddle him in the back of his van, a flowery sheet thrown over the seat. There’s carpet on the floor, and the smell of weed stuck in it. Hands buried in his hair, burning lips meeting his with frenzied need, you’re afraid of melting on him. It wouldn’t be your fault: his tongue is too skilled; his hands are too warm, tucked under your school uniform, teasing at the band of your bra; his hard cock is pressed too deliciously between your thighs. It’s a miracle you’re not burning already, candle wax dripping on his poor open hands. 

“Just a little bit more,” you pant against his mouth. “Then I really have to get to youth group.” 

Matty nods eagerly. Anything to crash back against your mouth, find your bubblegum lip balm again. “Of course,” he says, already leaning in. 

Your youth group is presently gathered at the Fischer’s house, speaking bible verses and missionary statements, lettered bracelets around their wrist. They’re licking complimentary chocolate off their lips as you bite Matty’s, tugging it before releasing it with a smirk. The groan he lets out resonates between your thighs. You grip his hair tighter, shifting your hips on him, desperately trying to get as close to him as possible, as though you could step into his skin. 

You should pull away. Should brush through your now messy hair. Should unwrinkle the shirt he’s tugged on and sneaked under. Should drive to youth group. Should listen intently, bible heavy in your hands. Should recite holy words. Should repent, or at least try to. should should should should should. It’s all that seems to be spinning in your mind these days, yet you never listen. 

Instead, you let Matty push your bra cup off one of your breasts, grabbing a handful of it. You moan in his mouth as he twists the nipple. He grins against your lips, does it again. You buck on him eagerly, and, oh, isn’t that interesting? You do it again, and again, surprised at how it hits your bundle of nerves, how it reverberates through your body. You make artless rolls, sloppy and slow, just to chase that euphoric zap. You let another whine out. 

You wait for the guilt to eat your stomach, climb up to your heart, devour through the flesh. Wait for it to be strong enough to shake you out of this haze. But if pleasure feels like this —flames licking your limbs, insides droopy around the wick— then it’s not a surprise catholic guilt isn’t enough to keep you on the holy path. 

All it took was some filthy whisper in your ear while you organized your backpack, tugging at your ponytail with two raised eyebrows and a grin, and you were walking five steps behind him, making sure no one wandered around the parking lot when you stepped into his beat-up car, following him in all the deliciously sinful places he brought you to head first, mind second. I have youth group, you warned, as though that meant something. He smirked. I’ll give you a ride. 

One of Matty’s hands drops to your hip. He clutches the material of your skirt, as though that would be enough to rip it from your body, make it unreal. The bass thumps through the van, shaking the floor. It echoes in you, travels to your head. You grind your hips to the rhythm. 

And it is a delicious rhythm. Euphoria waves and waves inside of you, a dance to the drowning song. You whine in Matty’s mouth. You practically drip on him, sticky wet to your core. 

“What’s the song?” You breathe against him, high-pitched and shortwinded. 

Matty’s head drops to the wall of the van, staring up at you through his spiderleg eyelashes. He rubs at your nipple, makes your face scrunch and break with a silent plea. Distracted that he is, he manages to answer, “Palisade by Mineral.” 

“I like it.”

“Yeah?” His fingers dig in your hip, making you rock a little quicker on him. Still, he looks a little delighted at your answer. Childishly glad. 

You nod. “It reminds me of my favorite band.” 

A crooked smile hints on his lips. “What is it?”

“Flyleaf.”

He cocks his head, furrowing his eyebrows. “Don’t know them.” Matty seems genuinely confused at that, as though his brain was a dictionary of band names, and the lack of yours didn’t compute. 

You twitch your lips. “It’s a Christian band.” It feels wrong to even say the word when you’re rubbing yourself on Matty, flesh pleasures rippling under your skin. His hand is still on your breast, pawing lazily at it under your shirt, for Christ’s sake. 

Matty has a breathy laugh, half-choked by the low sounds he makes. “Don’t mock,” you whine, though humor still lingers in the words. “They do rock.” Again, he laughs. There’s something beautiful about it, about the softness of his eyes and the openness of his mouth, vulnerable, almost throat-bared. You want to grab his cheeks, hold him in place like he never is and really, really look at him. 

His laugh is contagious. You giggle, defending, “I’m serious. My parents don’t even want me listening to them.” Teasingly, you add, “Say it’s gateway music to harder things, like regular rock’n’roll.” 

“Your parents are right. They’re all devil worshippers and bisexuals.” You snort, knocking your forehead with his. 

Matty’s fingers fall from your shirt. He grips your hips with both hands, taking control of the awkward movements you roll on him. Quick, precise things, pressing into him. Everything snaps into place. Heat blooms under your skin. Your head falls back, a groan spilling from you. 

“Matty,” you moan. 

He smiles at that, kissing your jaw, then leaning back on the wall of the van to look at you. “How do you know Flyleaf then?”

You frown a little, trying to make sense of your thoughts while this pleasure swims through you. “My friend Jade has the CDs. When I go to her house, I can listen to them.” 

He licks his teeth. Amused, and perhaps a little condescending, he asks, “Do you jam out, then?”

“Yes,” you answer primly. 

His hands leave your hips, spilling down your thighs. Long fingers swallowing them up, rubbing at the fading hickeys as if to bring them back to life. Without Matty’s assistance, you rock on him. You emulate him as best as you can, circling and bucking. He groans under you and victory spins in your mind, a little inkling of pride beside the drowning ecstasy. 

The stitching of your underwear rubs at your clit in the most perfect way and you bite your tongue; a force of habit as the threat of your parents are miles away. He’s rock hard between your thighs. It always tugs at your mind, how real it feels. He presses into you, and you wonder how it would be like if— how it would feel when— 

Matty is not done teasing you. His hands slip under your skirt, grabbing your ass and speeding up your movements. You moan, digging your nails in his shoulders. Cheeky, he trails, “Do you dance around in your little pajamas? Scream-sing? Make the floors shake from how much you’re jumping? Do you have choreographies?” 

“Something like that.”

He huffs, a little grin teasing his lips. “I’d like to see that.” There he goes again, vulnerable and open and pretty. You have the urge to bite him to the core. 

You laugh. You look down at the sticky, bucking mess where you meet. “Now?” 

“Yeah,” Matty says. You twist your hips on him and he stutters, clenching your ass, groaning.  “Or— Or, you know what, maybe right after.” 

A giggle blooms out of you. You bend down to kiss the middle of his throat, right over his Adam’s apple; because it’s there, because he offers it so freely. Something in you aches to bite him, swallow him up. “Get me a Flyleaf CD. Maybe then.” 

“I’ll hold you to that.” You roll your eyes.

Your thighs tremble from the effort, but you continue with just as much fervor, as much eagerness. You’re undeterred, single-minded— anything for the low thrumming building inside of you. A familiar feeling tingles in your toes, slowly licking up. You roll harder, pleading, hopeful. 

Your fingers move from Matty’s shoulders to his neck, hungry to get some skin. You dig into them, half-scratching. His head rolls on the wall. His face scrunches with a moan, pouty lips parted for you. 

A new song drums from the shitty car radio. It slashes through the blur of pleasure, takes hold of your liquefied brain. “What’s this one?” It comes out breathless. 

Matty opens his eyes, as though he needed all his senses to make sense of the song. “When You Sleep, my bloody valentine.” 

“I like it even better.” 

He smiles, warm and honey. “It’s one of my favorites, too.” You do a particularly artful buck and he cries, his head falling on your shoulder. “Fuck.” 

Euphoria buzzes up your limbs in warning. “I really have to get to youth group,” you pant. Though you do not slow, and even less stop, instead a renewed fervor to your moves. 

Matty tilts his head, kisses your neck. “Just a little bit more.”

“Yeah,” you nod, agreeing,  “just a bit.” Just a little bit, just a tiny, small, inconsequential bit, just more. There’s no wrong in it. His hand flies back to your breast, rubbing the nipple. You bite your lip, screaming, “Shit, Matty.” Your back shivers. 

You’re desperate, rocking on him with abandon. You don’t care for technique, just sheer speed, following the throbbing, screaming need inside of you that is just there. 

“I think I’m gonna—” You shake your head, pleasure too grand to make sense of the next words. 

Matty straightens from your neck, staring directly at you, panting. “I know. Me, too.” He pinches your nipple. You cry. Your toes curl. Pleasure thrums louder, following the dizzying music of the car. “Come for me,” Matty pleads. “I want to see you. Please, angel, just—” 

Your entire body shakes as you crash down from your high. You scream his name, a high-pitched cry, tongue loose in your mouth. Euphoria sings through you. All your limbs loosen and a slack, happy smile falls on your mouth. 

Your hips halt, exhausted from the effort, but Matty grips them and makes a few more sloppy rolls before whining, “Ah, fuck.” He comes with a shiver, and your name hot in his mouth. 

You stay there, unmoving, catching your breaths in the crooks of each other. He’s warm under you, around you. A known feeling, breathing. 

You giggle, dazed-happy. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Dry humping?”

“Yeah. Just without touching like that. It’s kinda—” You stop, embarrassed, suddenly not wanting to say. 

“What?” Matty trails, amused and curious. 

“Kinda like sex,” you whisper, flushed. The position, the feeling, the closeness. It really is almost sex. Though, you remind yourself, not sex at all. Of course. Matty doesn’t have time to answer that you add, “Does it feel good for you too?”

He snorts. “Yes.”

You chew your lip. Smaller, lower, you wonder, “Am I good at it?” 

Matty straightens, meeting your eyes. “I have come an embarrassing amount of times in my pants for you to not be.” 

You smile, proud. Glad. You lean in to kiss his nose. “Drive me to youth group?”

He pats your hip. “Alright.”

You attempt to straighten your clothes in the front seat, trying to iron out the wrinkles of your shirt with the palm of your hands. It’s a wasted effort, but you manage to look somewhat presentable by the time you’re a few houses from the Fischer’s. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you tell Matty, cheeky, and he snickers. You leave him with a wink, throwing your school bag over your shoulder. 

You walk into the room breathless and apologetic, already rambling. “Sorry I’m late. I was tutoring this kid and he wasn’t understanding the material and— it just lasted longer than I thought it would. I’m so, so sorry”

Betty smiles at you, benevolent. Guilt twists in your heart, but it’s distant. “No problem. We were just getting started on Lamentation.”

It hurts your cheek to grin so wide. “Great.”

—

You take demure bites out of your dinner, chewing and chewing until your jaw aches. It’s better for digestion, apparently. Passes straight through. Your mother sends you periodic looks, making sure you follow her advice. 

The chicken is dry and tastes like ash in your mouth. Still, you chew, trying to hide a grimace. Your stomach growls, but you wash it all down with water. 

“Did you hear about the Montgomery girl?” Susan, a neighborhood friend of your parents, exclaims. Her neck is flushed red from the wine.

Your father shakes his head, a somber expression on his face. “Such a shame.” 

“I don’t know what I would do if my Jade acted out like this,” Susan continues on, clicking her tongue in judgment. You frown. “I heard she was caught in the car.” 

“Surely not,” your mother says, clutching her pearls appropriately. There’s a sick tone of glee sticking to her teeth nonetheless. “In public?”

“Sexual deviants,” your father mutters. “It’s that damn TV. No one shows good Christian values anymore.” 

“Very true. People aren’t raised with the same standards these days. They just let kids act however.” 

“Now,” your mother starts, “Let’s not go shaming poor Sharon. She did what she could. Bailey just isn’t a very good girl.” 

“Rotten,” your father adds. “Remember when she was, what, 8 years old? At the birthday party? She practically ate all the cake.” 

“Devoured it!” 

“Sin starts young,” Susan snorts. “Gluttony isn’t treated with enough severity. It might seem like just a cake at first, but it quickly falls into premarital sex.”

“Who said?” You ask. The three adults turn to you, startled to hear you speak. 

“What?” 

“Who said she had premarital sex?” Your mother’s eyes practically bulge out from hearing you say the word. 

“Her mom came to the pastor looking for guidance,” Susan answers curtly. 

“And the pastor said Bailey was having sex in a car?” Your mother gasps, calling your name in reprimand. You ignore it. You stare at the neighbor, awaiting her answer.

Susan pinches her red neck, hand draped over her pearls. “Well,” she says, a little embarrassed. “No. Georgia said.”

“How did Georgia know?” 

“She heard it from someone.” 

“Who?”

“Well, aren’t you just a curious little thing?” Though Susan says it with a smile, it rings like a bother. You understand the underlying tone. It means shut up. It means you’re pushing. It means be good. 

You stare at Susan until she grows even more unsettled, unsure. Until she straightens in her seat, tries to play a confident front. You lick your teeth, shrugging. “It just sounds like we’re shaming her for something we know nothing about.” 

A heavy, tense silence crowns the room. Your parents look at you like you’ve grown a second head, like they itch to inspect your body until they find the devil’s birthmark; a concrete proof you’re a demonish changeling. You stand your ground. 

Your father rakes his throat. “We’re not shaming her. We’re concerned.”

You cock your head. “It’s not really our business, though, is it?” He purses his lips. You finally smile, digging your fork in your plate. “I’m just saying.” 

Your mother stutters. Susan takes a long sip of wine, staining her teeth. You bite the plastic chicken, swallowing without chewing. It goes offly down your throat. Everything does these days. Your parents’ teachings most of all. 

—

Your hands are buried deep inside of Matty’s dark mane. He tastes like cigarettes; smells like it too, the gray cloud lingering around him even when he’s done. Maybe it’s some sort of alarm call, some holy smoke signals. Maybe you should listen. 

You don’t, of course, licking into his mouth instead, lips meeting in a torturous frenzy. The bell will ring soon. You’re on a time limit. 

Matty has you pressed against the wall of some unpopulated corner of school, an awkward detouring staircase no one takes. Still, there’s a thrill humming in your veins. That someone could. Lost students, walking aficionados, fellow dirty make-out enjoyers. That they would find you, good, Christian girl, lip-locked with resident atheist Matty Healy, his hand on your tits. 

He gropes it unabashedly, his other hand digging into your hip. His knee presses between your thighs, just slightly, more to fix you to the wall than try to get you off. You feel a familiar heat build in your belly nonetheless, grinding into him every time his palm rubs your nipple. 

Thank God for skirts. Yours rised up your thighs, uncovering inches of silky skin, up to fading hickeys Matty devotedly left you. One in particular lies precariously low, always in danger of being exposed with one strong gust of wind. You wonder if he’s done it on purpose, if he wants to teeter that fatal edge, if something in him yearns to brand you and let it be known. 

“There’s got to be an empty classroom somewhere,” he says, leaving your lips just long enough to grunt the words before diving back. 

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’ve got choir in ten minutes.” 

He makes a displeased noise, groaning, “Fuck that.” 

“Come over tonight,” you breathe into his mouth, then tilt your head for another dirty kiss. 

His hand pinches your hip. He breaks away, licking your jaw, then saying, shortwinded and regretful, “Can’t. I’ve got a party. My mates’ll kill me if I miss another one.” He’s back to leaving wet kisses down your neck, rubbing his thumb over your peaked nipple masterfully. 

“Oh.” Your lips pull down. Disappointment digs into your heart. 

It’s fine. You can take care of the problem he’s growing inside of you yourself. Sure, your fingers never reach quite as far, never fill you up quite as deliciously, never work quite as efficiently, but it’s fine. It’s not as though you’ll miss him or anything. 

Matty’s head rises from your neck, seemingly sensing the shift in mood. He stares at your pout, though it might be more about the swollen, red mess he’s made of your lips then the shape of them. 

“You can… come too,” he says hesitatingly, perhaps even a bit shy. “If you want,” he immediately adds. 

You snort. The mere idea is a ridiculous concept, some clownesque farce. The girl that’s never had a lick of alcohol partying with his rowdy friends? That’s a likely sight. 

“That’s silly,” you say, but at least your lips don’t frown anymore. A smile spreads across them instead. “Can you imagine me at a party?” 

“Yeah,” Matty says seriously. 

You’re startled by his genuineness. You tilt your head at him, frowning. “And what would I do?”

He shrugs, grinning now. “Whatever you want. Drink, smoke, hang tightly in a corner doing neither.” You roll your eyes. “Hang out with me,” he adds bashfully, voice low in his voice. That idea is strangely appealing, your belly swooping at the thought of his tipsy frame leaning into yours, whispering his complex, drunk thoughts on the shell of your ear. “I might even let you kiss me.” 

You deadpan. “You’re too generous.” 

“I know,” he smiles, mischievous. He pokes your side. “Come on. Come. At least you’ll know what you’re staying away from.” 

You bite your lip. You shouldn’t find the proposition this tempting— but again, there’s many things in your life you shouldn’t find tantalizing. The boy holding you in his arms, unruly hair in the cracks of your fingers, most of all. 

“How would I even get there? I’ve got a strict bedtime.” Which he is well aware of, considering your mother interrupts your messing arounds like clockwork. 

“Sneak out,” Matty says easily. “I’ll pick you up.”

Sneaking out. It’s terribly wrong. Your parents trust you. Have put several thought out rules for a reason. It’s years of education that you would be breaking through. Years of character— good, tame, obedient— that you would wreck. 

But then, you’ve already started, haven’t you? What’s one more night? 

As though to convince you while you deliberate in that overthinking head of yours, Matty bends back into your neck, spreading open-mouthed kisses on your collarbone. He climbs up the bone, tugging your cardigan aside, revealing inches and inches of skin slowly, carefully. The white bra strap doesn’t deter him; he pushes it off your shoulder, tenderly pressing his lips to the red mark it left. 

His hand grabs at your breast, his knee grinding ever so slightly against your underwear, like a promise of what he could do. A small moan escapes your lips, eyes closing in pleasure. He smirks against your skin. 

“Come on, angel,” he whispers. “Please.”

An amused laugh breaks through the euphoria. You feel impossibly giddy. “Fine. Since you said please.” 

His head snaps up, grinning at you. He’s so happy you think you might melt from the sight. “Yes?” 

Your eyes dance. “Yes.” 

Matty bends down to kiss you, smile still crowding his mouth, eyes zeroing on yours. “Well, I believe we still got five minutes.” He tastes like cigarettes and honey; your favorite sugar. 

—

“How great is our God, sing with me.” The voices ring all together, some angelic, melodic music accompanied with soft piano. You clutch your hands behind your back, harmonizing, trying to remember the lyrics as your mind still scrambles from the heavy kiss mere minutes ago. 

Your stare swipes across the bored looks. You find Matty’s almost instantaneously; it’s scary that you do, that you spot him so easily in a crowd. As though you were always subconsciously searching for him. As though you were two magnets attracting, attracting, attracting. “How great is our God, and all will see.” 

He grins at you knowingly, teasingly, as if you’re sharing a secret. You can’t help smiling back, trying to bite back a laugh. The taste of him still lingers in your mouth. He winks at you and your heart sings. 

“How great, how great, is our God.”

—

You wait anxiously by your window, throwing furtive glances to the cross still reigning over the room. You bite your nails, walking in circles, trying to soften your steps so they don’t ring all the way to your parents’ room where your mom surely has a fretful sleep. A pebble knocks on the glass. 

You straighten, opening the window with shaky fingers. You stick your head out, peering down to Matty’s smiling face, a few more rocks in his hands. Glee is written all over him.

“How do I get down?” You whisper. 

“Use the trellis.”

The ivied wood looks like an unsound structure, but it has held Matty’s weight numerous times. Looking up to mutter a quick prayer— a habit more than a decision— you stick your leg out, perilously swinging it until your foot hits the wood. 

The rest of your body follows awkwardly. With a death grip, you claw at the trellis. You descend slowly, step by step, heart racing in your chest. You’re electrified. 

You jump the last couple of feet, landing on the muddy grass. It stains brown your Mary Janes; you’ll have to clean them when you get home, make sure your mother doesn’t see. 

You twist around with a proud grin as though to show yourself off. All in one piece, breathing and alive and out of your house. You feel like a reinvented Rapunzel. 

Matty smiles at you. He rakes his eyes over your body, coming back up with a teasing smirk. “Cute outfit,” he says, reaching a hand out to tug at one of your bows. 

You scowl. You tighten your pretty pink bow on the left. You wear your regular church skirt, rolled-up at the waist to show off the lace at the top of your white thigh-high socks. It’s what all the bad girls do with their school uniform, collecting detentions in return. 

Most importantly, you dusted out your frilly, lacy white top with spaghetti straps. It made your mother nearly collapse when she first saw it, claiming the stripe of collarbones and cleavage uncovered as unchaste, demanding you throw it away. You promised to do so, but shoved it in the back of your closet instead, behind boxes of old childhood stuffed toys. You’re still not sure why you kept it. Perhaps, in a way, you knew you would need it eventually. 

It’s the most scandalous thing you own. 

“Is it not a party outfit?” You say, self-conscious, peering down at your attire. You do contrast ridiculously with Matty and his ripped jeans and leather jacket; drenched in black, looking like caricatural danger. 

“No, no. It’s just— very clean.” It’s strange to be described like this. Your thoughts tumble with the word dirty and all its synonyms, yet Matty doesn’t seem to notice the filth caked on you. Something in your chest warms. “It’s, you know, a party. You might have a beer thrown on you.”

“Well, I’ll fit in, then. Rowdy and dirty like the rest of them.” 

Matty chuckles. He slings his arm over your shoulder and guides you to his car parked several houses away. “Sure will, angel.”

You finally get to Matty’s dirty van. It’s more of a dangerous box on wheels than anything else. You step into the passenger seat and immediately get a whiff of weed. There’s something reassuring about the smell, something familiar. It hits your nose, you see the brown carpet, and suddenly there’s the knocking idea to make out with Matty in the back of it, like a trained reflex. 

You buckle your seatbelt neatly. Matty presses play on the stereo. All Around Me rings through the car. You grin, looking at him with this pathetic glee. “You bought the CD?”

“I made a promise.” 

“D’you like them?” You bite your lip with the eagerness of a puppy. There’s something elated to have him see you. 

“They’re not bad,” he admits. “Real close to real rock’n’roll. I can see why your parents are terrified.” He shrugs, “Bit horny too.”

You gasp, slapping his shoulder. “Matty.”

“What?” He laughs. “I feel you on my fingertips? I can see you all around me? Thickening the air I breathe?”

“You make everything dirty.”

“It’s in the text, darling.” You roll your eyes, though, you have to admit, he’s not entirely wrong. 

Matty spreads his hand on your thigh. His palm warms you up, two callused fingers dipping in the inner side. You flush, dormant heat waking up from his ghost touch. “Are you ready?” He asks, suddenly serious. 

You laugh, “It’s a little late for that. I’m already out of the house.”

“No,” Matty shakes his head. “We could go back in if you want. I could eat you out until you pass out.” 

You consider him. It’s not a bad plan, far from it, but there’s something about his readiness to do so that makes you want to please him. You give him a cheeky smile. “I didn’t climb that trellis for nothing. Let’s go.”

“Alright,” Matty says, but his smile practically breaks his face. He turns the key and drives down the road. 

—

You stand neatly on the porch with a straight back. You’re in your church pose, something strict and firm, spotless to defend early against criticism. Your finger reaches for the doorbell, ringing it. 

Matty spins his car key around a digit. He laughs. “Oh, you’re so cute.” He opens the door, stepping in. You flush and follow inside. Your heart races.

Music attacks you, some loud, drum-filled thing that blasts through cheap speakers. The house smells of smoke. You wrinkle your nose. People are scattered everywhere, blue solo cups in hand, rolled up paper hanging loosely from the tip of their fingers. The floor is sticky. At least you don’t feel guilty for your muddy Mary Janes dragging on the floorboards. 

There’s a carefreeness to the scene, to the bodies dancing in a corner of the living room, to the lips meeting frantically against a wall in plain sight, to the limbs splaying and knotting and draping on a couch like some four-headed monster. 

You wrap your arms together behind your back, terribly aware of how out of place you are. Your silly outfit is not just in contrast to Matty. Everyone has something black, or ripped, or wrinkled. Dirty shirts and short skirts and combat boots. You’re a splotch of white in this infernal painting.

“Are you okay?” Matty says, dipping into you so you can hear him over the music. You nod faintly. He opens his mouth to say more, but someone interrupts, screaming;

“Matty! Shit, mate, I didn’t fucking think you’d make it.” A tall man approaches, catching Matty’s hand to smack their chests together. 

“No faith in me,” he tsks. “I said I’d be there.” 

“Well, you haven’t been the most reliable recently.” His eyes find you. He grins, narrowing in on you until you feel pinned in place. “And you must me why.” 

Your eyes widen. Behind your back, your fingers pick at your skin. “C’mon, Ross, give it up,” Matty rolls his eyes, and you’re a little glad he answered for you. 

“Nice to meet you,” you nod, reaching a hand out, ever polite. Manners drilled into you ever since you were young, impossible to disentwine from you, even when it’s ill-fitting. And it clearly is, because Ross makes a little amused snort as he shakes your hand, asking your name. 

“You must be thirsty,” Ross says, though mostly to Matty. There must be something written on your face, something hinting that you don’t partake in such activities. “C’mon. Everyone’s in the kitchen.” Ross jerks his chin in the direction of the kitchen, then turns around. 

Matty rests a loose hand on your back, guiding you in the crowd. Your skin lights from his merest touch. You tilt your head to watch him, fluttering your eyelashes at him. He catches your look, smirking. He faces straight ahead, but his tongue digs into his cheek, smug. You have to bite back a laugh when you emerge into the kitchen. 

A few people gather on the counters, sitting on the marble or mixing a free pour drink. The room is quieter, shaken up with laughs instead of bass. A blunt is being passed around. You wrinkle your nose at the smell. It vaguely reminds you of Matty’s van. 

“Here he finally is,” someone exclaims when they spot you. It’s another tall guy, cigarette tucked behind his ear, boozy cup in his hand. He’s got a loose smile on his lips. His eyes dance with amusement. “Nice of you to show up.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Matty rolls his eyes. “Ross said the same.”

He presents each of them to you, spotting his best friends George and Adam out of the crowd. You’ve seen them vaguely before, familiar faces hanging around him and a cloud of smoke. You grin at them, trying to mutter some sense of aloofness. It comes offly on your lips, a see-through mask.

You reach your hand out, and there’s the same amused look on their face as Ross as they move their cups out of the way, taking yours and firmly shaking it. They hum your name when you tell them, tasting its sweetness, memorizing it. Their eyes trail up and down your outfit, resting on the two bows on your hair. You regret them almost instantly, finding your thumb and pinching it instead of ripping them off. 

Matty gives them those easy handshake-hugs men seem to fall into. There’s a sense of pieces fitting together when Matty greets all of his friends. The room makes place for him, embracing him amongst the small crowd. He pulls the kitchen together, makes the sticky solo cups carnage a righteous war painting. Makes it make sense. 

“I got you your fucking wine,” George says with a hint of disdain. 

He picks a bottle of red wine out of the bridge, holding it out for Matty. It’s just as ill-fitting as you, misplaced in this sea of cheap beer and vodka-soda. There’s something comforting to the idea, to Matty’s carelessness as he grabs the bottle by the neck. 

He twists the screw top wine and takes a deep mouthful of the wine under the cheers of his friends. He licks his red lips clean, chuckling as he catches the droplets rolling off his chin. “Do you want anything to drink?” Matty asks you. The wine lingers vaguely in your direction. 

You wrinkle your nose. “Just water,” you say, and you hold your breath for some eyeroll or deserved grumble. Nothing comes. Matty nods. He opens a cupboard of the kitchen familiarly, grabbing a glass. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Adam nods at you. You jump, almost surprised to be acknowledged and not blurred into the background. 

Your lips up. “Thanks. You, too.” You take the glass of water when Matty comes back. He stays near you, a protective presence lingering, though he doesn’t even touch you. 

George takes a sip of his beer. “So how did you two meet?” 

You clench your hand around your glass. “Um. At church.”

Laughter roars through the crowd. You stand tight, awkwardly staring at them. Matty sighs beside you. The laughs die, a sort of shared incredulous look taking its place instead. Beady, multicolored eyes pin you in place. 

“Oh, shit,” George finally says. “You’re serious.”

Ross shakes his head, tsking, “Only Matty would manage to pick up chicks in church.”

Matty makes an offended noise, slapping his shoulder. “I’m not fucking picking up chicks in church.” 

“What’s this then?” Adam pingpongs his eyes from you and Matty, lingering in the space between. Or the near lack of it, shoulders brushing, an instinctive closeness. 

Matty opens his mouth, then closes it, staring at you. Waiting for you to declare this strange, unnatural thing between you. Give it a name. Make it real. Your heart races. “We’re friends,” you finally settle on. And it’s not untrue. Still, you take a sip of water right after, washing down the bitter taste. 

“See,” Matty comes back to his mates. “Friends.”

“Uh-huh,” George snorts, clearly seeing through both of you. “Sure.”

“You’re all a bunch of dickheads,” Matty says, and once again suffers the resounding snickers. There seems to be something brewing still, taunts and mockeries until they draw the confessions out of you. You ready for the impact.

Thankfully, a girl comes in and saves you from what surely is a line of further questioning, bursting into the kitchen to ask, “Beer pong?” The boys cheer, following after her. Matty stays with you. 

“They’re not usually this annoying,” he assures. “They’re even great sometimes.” 

“It’s okay,” you laugh, brushing his concerns away. You’d like them even if they were usually this annoying. Because they’re his friends. Because they’re his. Because he has this soft, wonder look in his eyes when he talks about them, to them. You don’t think you’d defend any of your friends to anyone. You don’t think you have friends at all. 

Though, of course, you have Matty now. Decretated it to a party and everything. It seems you’re more stuck together than you thought. 

—

His lips are stained red from the wine, pulled in a loose smile as he tipsy-giggles. There’s a freeness to his limbs, a jointlessness the alcohol strings out of him. He’s flushed in the cheeks. He’s pretty. Matty takes a swig of his bottle, licks it off. You want to kiss him. 

You stand alone in the kitchen, your own small cocoon away from reality. Out there, beyond the walls, there’s a heated Olympics of beer pong, cheers and cries and the swoosh sounds of balls falling into liquid resonating back to you. Even further away, the consistent noise of rock music thumps back faintly. An underwater resonance, almost unreal.

Matty leans against the island counter. He makes you laugh, draws out those embarrassing snorts out of you. His eyes grow proud every time he does, talking and talking until he gets another hit, as though placing the needle of the turntable at the fated vinyl groove of a favorite song over and over again. 

Another swig. You follow the movement, intrigued. Matty arches an eyebrow. “Are you sure you don’t want some?” He asks, annoyingly knowingly. 

You’ve finished two glasses of water, but there’s an unquenchable thirst inside of you, grumbling beside the everexisting hunger, the scary desire. 

You know you shouldn’t let yourself get tempted by sins. It’s already bad enough that you indulge in Matty, that you allowed to get talked into coming to a party. Wine is your savior’s blood, and nothing else. 

Still, you bite your cheek, feeling them heat. “Maybe,” you admit slowly. It’s embarrassing to go back on your words, but there’s a sense of safety when it’s just you and him, when there’s none of his friends who would surely be a little too amused at your drunk church girl act. 

Matty draws a hand out for you. You catch it, letting yourself get pulled towards him. He smiles down at you and your chest warms. Comfort settles in your bones; you grin back, tipping your head up. 

“Just a taste,” you whisper, more to yourself than him. Just a dip of lips, innocent and inoffensive. Like the communion wine, tasted and licked off. 

Matty smirks at you. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, tugging you even closer. Your breath catches in your throat. You stare at his lips as he takes another mouthful of his wine, parting your own instinctively. Your belly somersaults. Fuck the wine. You want him to kiss you. You want him so thoroughly it scares you sometimes. It thrills you the other half. 

Matty dips his head into you, nears his lips, parts them, and lets the wine fall into your mouth. You gasp, tasting the dark flavor, tasting him. Your mind spins dizzyingly. It’s sharper than the eucharist; realer, better. Droplets fall from your lips, but you just catch his, careless, hungry. You lick the leftover taste of wine from his tongue. You want to swallow it whole, swallow him whole. Heat plants in your belly, blooming and blooming. 

Matty parts from you with a laugh. He catches the runaway drops of wine with his thumb, wiping your chin and dipping it in your mouth to clean. You do so instinctively, dutifully, sucking around his finger. Your stare meets his dark eyes. You feel faint. 

His hungry look falls to your rising chest, the inkling of cleavage you’ve uncovered for this party, panting for him. His eyes zero in on the cross, everpresent, evertainted. He clicks his tongue. “Sorry. I’ve stained your little outfit.” 

You look down at your top. Bright red drops on your white shirt. You won’t be able to wash it off, won’t get rid of this night, of him. You already plan the place you’ll hide it in your closet; because you know, secretly, you won’t want to throw it away. Not when it’s now intimately attached to this memory, to his cloudy eyes, to the bitter taste of wine and him on your tongue. “It’s okay,” you whisper. “Now I fit in.” 

He huffs a laugh. “Sure, angel.” His arm falls loosely around your waist. He takes a step in your direction and you do the opposite.

“Don’t call me that,” you say petulantly. “They’ll see right through me.” Your back hits the counter. 

“But you’ve got those wine drops. They couldn’t possibly mistake you for a good girl with stains on your shirt.” His hand catches your hip and he hoists you up on the counter, sliding between your spread thighs. Your skirt rises up dangerously, but you don’t bother straightening it. It’s not like he hasn’t seen the silky skin before, hasn’t touched and licked and bit it. There’s still the faint shape of bruises on them because of him.

“You don’t think I fit in?” You ask him, fluttering your eyelashes at him, comically pouty. 

Matty’s hand falls to the uncovered skin of your thigh, pinching there. His eyes dip to your pouty lips, as though an invitation he’s difficultly resisting. “You’d stand out anywhere, love.” 

“You’re a charmer.” 

He tsks. “I’m charming,” he corrects you. He raises the bottle of wine, letting the cool glass rest on your naked thigh. You jump at the cold feeling, shivering. “What did you think of your taste?” 

“I don’t know,” you whisper conspiratorially, amusement dancing in your eyes. “I’d need another one to really decide.” 

Matty smirks at you. “Anything you want.”

—

“There’s no way you’re making it! Give up already!” 

Your eyes narrow on the blue solo cup, ignoring the insulting cries around you hoping to get you down. They’re aiming for your head, to sneak under your skin and get you to mess up. Truthfully, they don’t need any trashtalking to throw you off your game. You’re three downed beers in and the circle of the cups seem to narrow each throw. You haven’t made a single shot since the very first cup. 

“Don’t listen,” Matty breathes in your ear.  “C’mon. Prove them wrong. You can’t let them be right.” You shake the stress off your shoulders. “Do the shot.” He gets louder, chanting, “Do the shot. Do the shot. Do the shot.” Spectators join in, singing with him, drumming on the table. 

You purse your lips, tilt your wrist, and throw. 

The ping-pong ball falls neatly in the cup. Swoosh. George bends down to blow on it, but it’s useless. You’re already screaming in victory. The party rumbles with shocked cheers, half of your chanting supporters not ever believing in you. You throw yourself in Matty’s arms with a happy cry. His grin hits your cheek. He lifts you up, sways you around. You hear your laugh over the boos of the competing team. 

“I fucking knew it,” Matty says, light and excited. “I fucking knew it.” The laugh bubbles out of you, easy and familiar. 

You won’t win the game, but this goal is enough. 

—

Your hands hook around Matty’s neck, loose and sloppy. You move your hips to the rhythm, let your arms flurry around you. You jump to the drum-heavy parts, looking like scattered limbs pushed around. People knock against you, never apologetic. Sweat sticks to your skin. You grin at him, knock your forehead on his shoulder. 

Matty’s laugh resonates. He puppeteers you, spinning you around his finger, throwing you off a joint hand and wrapping you back in his arms. He scream-sings the lyrics in your ears. Sounds bury inside of you.

You sway to the piano, grinning so wide it might rip your cheeks. His hands are warm on your lower back. Your fingers greedily dig up into his hair, burying home. An imprint of you on him; he leaves the dancefloor unruly, with the shape of your hands in his curls. Your name branded, secretly. You like it. 

—

“Sprite,” you say, impossibly solemn. 

George nods, twisting the Sprite bottle cap with equal seriousness. He splashes it out, then looks at you for confirmation. You’re implacable. He pours some more until you nod decidedly. 

“I found orange juice,” Adam says. He digs out a bottle from the very back of the fridge, coming back towards the sticky counter with his treasure. 

“That’s my mum’s, and it’s mango-passion fruit juice.” 

Adam shrugs, uncaring. “Eh. It’s fruit.”

“In the cup!” You shout, pointing towards the glass with a ridiculous amount of different liquids. You’re making the perfect drink, allegedly, but it’s more a collection of tastes than any attempt at mixing. Really, there’s a growing chance that it will be entirely awful. 

George, dutiful, pours the juice in the cup. “Where’s the grenadine?” He asks. 

“It needs more rhum,” Adam suggests. 

“Sprite!” 

—

You sit on Matty’s lap, practically dripping on him. Your back melts on his front, your head dipped on his shoulder, your legs hanging from his spread thighs. You’re an eight-legged monster you caught a glimpse of when you first entered the party, frowning at the agglomeration until you finished the bottle of red wine and understood. You’re giggly and spacey now, but most importantly needy, practically clinging on Matty. 

You drink a vodka-juice, and you reach it out for him instinctively, though he always refuses, restating he’s driving. Matty put grenadine in it to make it pink and sugary for you. His free hand warms your hip, spreading possessively over the bone.

His friends are a cacophonic orchestra around you, screaming over the music, talking over each other, laughing at a joke from three people away. You don’t care what you look like in front of them, a secret glimpse of everything unsaid in your friend declaration. Your skirt has risen up enough to reveal a flash of hickeys, but you don’t have the overthinking, overbearing mind to fret over it, tugging at the skirt. You doubt it really matters to them anyway; they must have seen much grander things than a hickey. 

You like them. They’ve got the same humor as Matty, the same cadence to their words. There’s a melody to their stories, an inherent rhythm. You like it, like that they sound like him. 

“So,” Adam starts, sounding even goner than you. “Church?”

You snort at his introduction. “Yeah.”

“How’s he like?” Adam adds, vaguely gesturing towards the two of you. There’s a morbidly interested look to his friends; everyone waits for the answer. 

You giggle giddily. “He’s a poor Christian,” you confess. 

“I’m not a Christian,” Matty repeats, his fingers digging into your flesh as a warning. You roll your eyes. Your skin buzzes pleasantly. 

“He’s a great atheist,” you correct for his sake. “He laughs and snorts at all the inappropriate places.”

His hand rises up to your stomach, tightening his hold on you. “They’re laugh-worthy,” Matty explains to you, and you shake your head dutifully, the religious example. 

“You liked Song of Solomon perfectly well,” you tell him, upping your nose. 

“That’s because it’s dirty.” Matty tightens his fingers, digging his stare into you. His words are dangerous as he says, “And I loved Genesis.” A memory of his fingers curling into, bringing you impossibly close to a cliff, as his melodic voice told the fatalistic story of Adam and Eve flashes back to you. You stare up at him, smirking. 

A girl steps into the living room, falling on the couch beside Ross. She drops her head on his shoulder, pouting. 

“Are you okay?” Ross laughs, clearly seeing through her pity act. 

“Delaney’s not coming,” she explains. The crowd resounds with regretful noises. You frown. 

“Who’s Delaney?” You ask, gone enough to be uncaring of what you look like. Out of the loop, ill-fitting. Delaney means something to everyone but you. 

“She’s our friend. Really cool girl,” the girl explains helpfully. “But she’s busy with her stupid job today.”

George smirks, flicking his eyes towards Matty. “She gave him that insane blowjob.” The hair rises on your skin. You freeze. 

Matty makes a clicking sound. “Shut up.”

“That’s what you said,” George defends, throwing his arms in the air. You relax in Matty’s arms. He doesn’t seem to care much about her, even if she supposedly gave him head worth telling about. You wonder when she did. If it was recently. 

The girl rolls her eyes. “She’s more than a fucking blowjob. She said she might come by late if the party was still going.”

“It will still be going,” George assures, confident in his hosting skills. 

The girl shrugs, less assured. “We’ll see.” 

An argument seems to be brewing, but Matty taps your thigh. He declares, “I need a fag.”

You stand with him, following him before he even asks you. Three feet apart and you might crack and die from the distance. Still, you think, he’s just your friend— plus the unsaid, of course.

—

The smoke lingers around you. You steal the cigarette from Matty, pulling your lips around the stick, inhaling in. Suck it like a straw, you remember him saying. Or, follows right after, leaving you flushing. You follow his command anyway, breathing out gray smoke without the hint of a cough. 

You hold it out for him after, which he takes as he peers unhappily at you. “You shouldn’t be this used to it,” Matty explains. “It’s bad for you.”

“You shouldn’t have taught it to me, then,” you retort cheekily. 

“I barely did.”

“Shouldn’t have made it so tempting,” you volley back easily, just as smug. “Every time I kiss you, you taste like cigarettes. You can’t expect me not to be already a little bit addicted.”

“You make it sound like you’re addicted to me,” Matty breathes out. His gaze devours you, like he knows. Like you don’t even have to confirm his hypothesis, like he’s well aware of your strange obsession with him. Like he can see the filthy thoughts flying in your mind any time he dares exist near you. 

You hum noncommittally, acting nonchalant. “Maybe,” you give in. “Maybe I just like the headrush.” You take another drag, letting the nicotine adrenaline bloom up your head, buzzing and buzzing. It’s a boneless feeling, something that leaves you grinning helplessly. 

Matty gets scared of your shivering body in nothing but your camisole. He takes his arms out of his leather jacket, pulling it over his shoulder. You clutch it gratefully; you hadn’t realized you were cold until you held it over your body. 

Your eyes fall back on him as the rush subsides. You reach your hand out to him; he grabs his Marlboro cigarette, sticking it back where it belongs: his mouth. It wraps around it. You tilt your head. 

“How was it like?” You ask, filter truly gone. 

“What?”

“The insane blowjob,” you answer easily. Matty chokes on his cigarette, coughing out smoke. You wait it out, watching as he smacks his chest. 

He rakes his throat, hesitant. “Fine.”

“Come on,” you laugh, “You can give me more than that.”

“This feels like a trap.”

“I’m genuinely curious,” you defend. “I don’t—“ You flush. “I don’t really know any of this. Sex. Pleasure. I’m just— It’s a lot of void. For me.”

“So you want to know how it felt?”

You stare at him, unflinching. “I want to know how she did it.”

A shudder passes through Matty. He licks his lips. Rests his cigarette between them, takes a long drag. Finally, he settles his gaze on you. 

“It was— It was a bit like this, I guess.” Matty takes your wrist, puppeteers two fingers out, and sucks them inside his mouth. 

Your breath hitches. Your free hand clutches his leather jacket, pulling it tighter over your shoulders. You stare at his red lips as they stretch over your digits. 

Matty licks his tongue on your fingers, sucking his cheeks in, bobbing his head. It’s a wet, pornographic sound. Your cunt clenches around nothing, ready for something you’ve never known. You feel heat droop in the deepest parts of you, staring at him, shortwinded. 

Matty’s dark eyes catch yours. He’s shameless, swallowing around your fingers. He releases them with a pop sound, kissing the tips of them delicately. Your skin flushes. 

“There,” Matty finally says, satisfied. “That’s how you do it.”

Your heart races, calling for him, for it. Your eyes narrow on his lips, crashing against them before you have the sense to think. You catch his waist, drawing him closer, kissing him harder. Matty answers eagerly, a low groan in the back of his throat. 

He’s everywhere. Climbing up your sides. Licking into you. Biting your lip, drawing it out. Whining in your mouth. Your body sings for him, utterly ready. 

“I want you,” you whisper against him. Matty mumbles, catching your mouth with a renewed hunger. “I—“ You start again between two breathless kisses, tongue mixing perfectly, “Matty, I need you.”

The words resonate. Matty’s fingers dig in your waist, impatient. He breathes suggestively,  “George has a guest room.”

Your smile breaks your face. “Let’s go.”

—

You burst into the guest room. The door slams against the wall as Matty devours your lips. His hands are in your hair, pushing the leather jacket off your shoulders, falling down your back, gripping your waist, clutching your hips, drumming up your ribs. A savage, desperate tempo takes your flimsy bodies. He licks into your mouth with a hungry tongue. Your heart races, thrill buzzing up your legs. 

You sneak a hand under his black shirt, clawing at the skin of his back. You trace the ridges of his spine with your fingertips, up and down, and Matty shivers in answer. You fall to his waist, gripping his side, pulling him into you more. You hope your handprints will brand him somehow. 

He pushes you against the wall. A moan resonates from you that he hurries to swallow up. His hand grabs a handful of your ass over your skirt. Another low sound slips from you. You part your legs; his knee settles in instinctively, like a return home. It hits your clit, denim rubbing faintly, and a hot coil of pleasure swoops in your belly. He bites your lip and tugs it. 

“Pretty girl,” Matty whispers roughly at your whines. He leans away from your mouth to stare down, catching an eyeful of your heaving breasts. He smirks, teasing as he says, “But what’s a good girl like you doing with stains on her top? Let me fix you up, darling…”

Cheeky, he slips under the hem of your camisole. Calluses dance on your skin; your hair rises, hyperaware of him. He gets near your first rib, showing off your midriff, before you push his hand down. 

You know what it would lead to if you let him take it off. He’d lick at your tits, kiss down your sternum, and fall to his knees for you. He’d lap and nip and fuck until your brain was putty in your skull and coherent, multisyllabic words were a faraway concept, and then he’d wipe his chin and drive you home. Which would be good, of course, and you’d go to sleep tingling and happy, bone-deep satisfied, but you wouldn’t have touched him. 

That’s what you want— what you need. For all the little fears and insecurities that the idea brings you, the desire to please him, to say thank you, to learn is greater, beating in your chest. You want to give him the best blowjob he’s ever had, want to blow all the other girls he’s met out of his head. Be the one, the only one. 

Matty is too enthralled in you to catch your subtle hint, leaving wet kisses on your neck as he now trails his hand up your thighs. He starts at the lace of your socks, finding your smooth skin and stopping at your underwear. His hand palms the wet patch with a pained grunt, lazily rubbing at your clothed clit. You bite your lip, panting in the quiet of the room. 

The floor shakes from the speakers downstairs. Music lulls under the floorboards, a strange background to the quick and hot breaths filling the room. You push Matty’s hand against all your screaming, begging judgements. Curse him for always being so talented at driving you wild. 

“Remember that fantasy I had? I want to do it,” you say, pushing off the wall and walking into him. He steps back to leave you room, frowning a little. “I want to see you. To feel you.”

The back of his knees hits the desk chair. You push him on it, falling neatly on his lap next. You stare him down, confident, certain.  “I want to suck your dick.”

His hands find your hips easily. Matty’s dark eyes devour you. They linger on your swollen lips, leveled with him, practically inviting him. His breaths quicken. You brush two hands through his hair, pouting, blinking condescendingly in mock-act of him. “Will you let me do that?” 

He makes a choked sound from the back of his throat. “Fuck— Yeah. Yeah, whatever you want. Please.” He catches your lips again with a groan. 

You kiss him back eagerly. It’s safe, to be in his lap, to grip his hair, to tilt your head and meet his mouth. Known. A learned and practiced thing, so inherent you could close your eyes and make up the shape of his lips from memory. You would know; you think of them on your late nights when he can’t sneak out, hot and sweaty and bothered, two fingers dipped inside of you. You imagine his lips, and his tongue, and his fingers, and all the spots of your body that miss them, and it’s so real you’re almost surprised he’s not smirking up at you when your eyes part open after an orgasm that’s just not quite what you needed. 

Matty slips under your skirt, grabbing a fistful of your ass again, dragging you closer in his lap. You grind against his hard-on; a moan falls from your mouth and plants down his throat. He smirks against your lips, does it again. 

“Matty,” you trail in warning. Though it transforms into a groan as he puppeteers your hips just so while you say it, losing its edge.

“Just a bit,” he promises, but there’s something cheeky in his tone. Your head falls back as he bucks you on him. Pleasure drums up your ribs. 

You’re hot and buzzing and ecstasy sweeps inside of you. A low, known thrumming resonates. Your clit rubs against him, over and over, and you know the mind-melting orgasm you can get from it. It’s been your favorite recent activity: the closeness, the reciprocity, the power, the moans he makes, the fact that it’s almost, seemingly, more. A veil of sex, with half the damnation. 

Matty’s fingers twist in the band of your underwear, clenching around it as he moves you faster, harsher. There’s a focused look in his eyes and you know he doesn’t really mean it when he says just a bit. 

You take his wrists, ripping them away from you and in the air. Matty holds them palms up, a virtuous sign of innocence, with the smug, amused look to contradict it. You pant. Your body bemoans, your betraying hips tingling to move and chase that pleasure again. 

“You’re not very good at listening,” you chastise. 

Matty clicks his tongue. “I’ve always been a do-what-I-want guy.” 

An idea prickles at the back of your head. You stand up from him slowly, ignoring your uncomfortably wet underwear. He pouts at you. You take a step back, and he tries to reach for you again, but you hold him away by his wrists. 

“I’ll just have to make you listen, won’t I?” 

Matty loses his smirk. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even procure another cheeky comment. He waits, the moment hanging in the air. Waits for your next move. Waits for the new game board. Waits for a footing of some kind. Tension sparks between you. 

You let go of one hand, reaching up to your own hair and pulling out the left pink bow. The satin tickles your skin. You smirk at him. 

“What are you gonna do with it?”

“What I want.”

You round the chair, bending down to your knees. You draw his wrists together behind his back and wrap the satin ribbon around them. You tie a pretty bow, perfect loops and tails, all proportionate. You smile, wishing he could see. 

You crawl on your knees around the chair, back in front of him. Your eyelashes flutter at him. “Fuck,” he whines.

He pants, staring down at you unblinking, as though each second missed would kill him. As though he’s engraving the sight in his brain. You smile. Your hands graze his thighs. He shivers, makes another low noise. 

You know that he could take it off easily. It’s flimsy material, and it’s a poor knot, and it’s a ribbon. But he stays there, hands in place, giving you free range, and there’s something about the vulnerability to do so that makes you want to please him even more. Give him some sort of reward, a worthy thank you. 

He’s always honest, and open, and willing. You guard your heart fearfully, hold your thoughts under your tongue like your mom always told you to do. But he waits, open-palmed, throat-bared, hands-tied. 

It’s a tragic story. Almost biblical. 

But as much as you want him —in your hands, in your mouth— you still— you don’t really know how to do any of it. Your knowledge of blowjobs stops at a stupid, graphic joke Jake Finn made sophomore year and Matty showing you on the balcony just now. 

Your lips twitch. Your head falls on his thigh, an innocent look he should be able to see right through in your eyes. “Father,” you whisper with a hint of mischief. Matty’s breath hitches. “I need guidance.” 

Matty breathes from his nose harshly. He attempts to gather himself. Gravelly, he says, “Get me out of these.” His wrists tug on the restraint, though not enough to break it. 

You shake your head, scrunching your nose at him. “I can do it alone.” You raise your head, tilting it to kiss his thigh. His head falls back with a pained noise. You giggle. “Please, please, Father. What should I do?” 

He looks back at you with dark eyes. You smirk. You’ve got him. 

There’s an implacable sense of authority in his voice. For all his rebellions, he plays the role quite well. Grand and solemn and holy, of all things, he says, “Are you gonna be good for me?” 

A spark of excitement hits you. You lick your lips, nodding at him eagerly. “Yes,” you assure. You shift on your knees. “The best, Father.” You mean it in more ways than one. It’s pride, and it’s hubris, and it’s a grandiose speech. But you need it nearly as much as you need him, need to blur all those other girls from his mind. 

“Good girl,” Matty coos, and the praise hits true. You clench your thighs, biting back a low moan. Matty smirks knowingly as he adds, “Always so devout.” There’s a sick thrill at being called pious when you’re kneeling for a profane man. The juxtaposition slicks your underwear, spins your mind. You’re anything but, but he manages to make the words true by saying it. He reinvents the universe from the flick of his tongue; maybe he really is a God.  

“Take me out,” Matty says. It rings as an order, sure and lashing. You shiver.

You climb your hands to his hips, unbuttoning his black jeans. Your fingers shake as you do so, sloppy and imprecise. Your heart beats in your skull, the knowledge of what is coming knocking at your brain. You draw him out. 

His cock stands hard and up in front of you. You’ve seen it before, of course, but never from so close. Your lips part in fascination. Precum leaks from his tip and there’s something filthy about the sight. You want to catch the drip with your finger and suck in your mouth, but you don’t dare do it. You’re not sure what the next move should be, what ways to touch. 

You flick your eyes back to him, silently asking. This time, he’s much more gentle when he offers, “Wrap your hand around the base.” 

Your fingers fly to his cock. You circle his length. You’ll replay in your mind the gasp he lets out as soon as you make contact for a long time. Oh, you decide suddenly. You’ll have fun with that. 

Before he suggests anything else, you draw your hand up. A tantalizing, torturous pace. Matty twitches in your hand, moaning. “Start slow,” you whisper. You jerk back down. “I know that.” It’s a knowledge engraved in the back of your mind, reminded in the raspy sound of his voice when he first said it. 

“Yeah—” He nods for fault of finishing a sentence. You pass your thumb over his tip like you’ve seen him do. His hips jump, a hiss slipping from his mouth. “Fuck, that’s—”

“Father, you shouldn’t swear. It’s not godly.”

Matty meets your eyes, seeing right through the teasing smirk you offer him. Here you are speaking of God with his hard cock in your hand. “You’re right,” he breathes. “What example am I giving my— Shit, fuck.” You’ve sped up your movements at the most inopportune time, it seems. 

You tsk. “You’re just not learning your lesson.”

“I’m a bad example.” 

“If you keep going, I might come out of this unholier than when I came in.” Mischief tacks your tongue.

“We couldn’t have that, could we?” Matty tries to volley back, but it’s more a pant than a taunt. You lick your teeth, satisfied. 

You stroke him with a sure hand. The precum glistens, spread down his length. His curly hair flaps over his forehead, sweaty and flowing wildly. He pulls his face down with furrowed eyebrows as you jerk him. Your mouth waters. Every choked moan he makes for you makes you shift on your knees, try to quiet the growing need inside of you. He’s too pretty. 

You’re decided, desperate. You need him, a sick, demanding thrill hazing your mind. Your head bends down, narrowing in, but he tuts, “Ah ah.” You freeze, flicking your eyes up at him in question. He’s cocky as he presses, “Shouldn’t you say Grace?”

Your eyes fall to his dick, understanding. You don’t even have the time to think that you already let go of him. You join your hands together, resting your elbows on his knees, closing your eyes as you recite, “God is great and God is good. Let us thank Him for our food; by His blessings, we are fed. Give us Lord, our daily bread.” You open your eyes, meeting his hot gaze. He watches you, heavy breathing. A smirk hints on your lips. “Amen.” 

Before Matty has time to retort a cocky quip, to regain control of the situation, you bend down again and wrap your lips around his tip. A gaspy, choked sound comes from the back of his throat. His hips jump, pushing into your mouth. You suck on it. His head throws back as he moans. You giggle, licking the tip, finally circling your hand around his base again. 

“What now, Father?” You whisper, stroking him with a lazy hand, kitten-licking him. 

“God,” Matty whines as his head slams back forward, watching you with disbelieved eyes. 

You hum. “Mmh, what does he want?” 

Matty makes a breathy laugh. “Open your jaw more.” Dreams of him pulling your chin down, readying your mouth for him flash back to you. You shake your head, keeping focused. You know if you free his hands, you’ll lose control. 

“Is that his holy message?” 

“Yeah.” You open your mouth as wide as you can, thrusting him deeper and deeper with each bob. You try to remember the feeling on your fingers, try to imitate his droolful explanation. You run your tongue on the underside of his cock like he did, grinning proudly at his groan. “You look so fucking hot.” 

Your eyes lock with his, happy to your bones. It can’t be true— you feel spit and precum run down your chin. Still, you double your efforts eagerly, trying to be the bestest and prettiest girl for him. 

His breath is labored, coming out in whiney huffs. “Move your hand—”

He hasn’t finished his sentence that you’re already stroking him lazily. You pop him out of your mouth, saliva stringing to your lips, to ask, “Like this?” 

“In synch with— Fuck.” You suck him back into your mouth, moving your hand in tandem with your head. He pants harshly. His hips rise to meet you, and you gag, releasing him. He throws you an apologetic look. “Sorry.” 

“Should I go deeper?” 

“Yes— Yeah.” You laugh, bending back to swallow him up. His shoulders flex, as though he aches to touch you, pass a soothing hand through your hair. Instead, he says with wonder, “Whatever you want, angel.” You moan around him, shifting on your knees. Matty smirks. “You like when I call you that?” His eyes flick down to the mess of your mouth. He groans from the back of his throat, choked as he revels, “While you’re swallowing my cock?” You smile at him. You do like it, no matter what you usually argue. 

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you widen your jaw. You keep your hand at the base of his cock, trying to fit him even deeper in your throat. He hits the back of it and you gag again, pushing him out. You jerk him quickly as you catch your breath. 

“You’re drooling everywhere,” Matty coos. You laugh, wiping your chin clean, spitting the rest on his cock. You jerk it down his length. He moans. “Shit. You’re like a fucking wet dream.” 

“I want to be good for you.” 

“You’re always good.” It’s not true. You’ve been nothing but immoral these days. But the way he says it, sure, flicked off his tongue like there wasn��t even a place for debate, makes your head spin. His hips rise again, this time no apologetic look as he begs, “Deeper.” 

You suck on his head, giggling. “Magic word?”

“Please.” 

You hum. “We might make a decent man out of you yet, Matty.” He laughs, but then you open your head wide and take him into your mouth, and now he’s more whining than anything else. You try to keep your gag reflex under control, stroking what you can’t fit with your hand. 

“That’s it,” he moans, rolling his eyes back in pleasure. “My perfect girl. I like you like this.” His head dips to look at you properly. “Do you like it? Like being on your knees for me?” 

“Yes.” And it’s true, no matter how filthy it makes you. There’s power to it. There’s a strange lust to see how much it affects him. You affect him.  You flutter your eyes at him, licking his tip. “Father, I fear I’ve been corrupted.” 

He laughs. “Yeah?”

“There’s this boy,” you say teasingly. “He just won’t stop making me naughty. You’d be ashamed of the way I act for him.” 

“I hardly believe that.” His hips thrust up into your hand. “Not when you’re so pretty like this.” 

“I’m being a very dirty girl,” you shake your head, and for once, there’s none of the usual guilt about it. Being forsaken is a faraway concept. In this room, the only thing that matters is the shade of your knees when you’re done. 

“Good. I think you should be even worse.” 

You giggle, swiping your thumb over his tip. “Is that your penance?” He nods, out of breath. You tilt your head, cheeky as you tease, “And how do you suggest I do that?” 

“Suck me again,” he demands, but you stare at him unimpressed, slowing your hand down in warning. He jumps. “Please.” 

You hum, licking across his length, then sucking indulgently on the tip. “Like that?” His eyes are dark. He flexes and unflexes his arms, reminding himself of the bow tying them. You snicker. For all his usual teasing, laughing and cooing at you, he doesn’t seem to enjoy his own medicine. “Use your words,” you taunt just to add oil to the fire. 

“In your mouth, please.” You could keep going, speed up and slow and lick and never give him what he wants until he’s shaking under you, but you miss him in your mouth, too. Greedy and starved, you push him past your lips. 

You bob your head quickly, suddenly eager to see him unravel. For you. Because of you. He hits the back of your throat over and over, but you breathe through your nose, blinking away the prickling tears. Pornographic, sopping sounds ring through the room. One hand settles on his knee, gripping it. It shakes under your fingers. 

“Ah, shit,” Matty cries, meeting you halfway. He can’t seem to look away from you, dropping his head back then being jolted with realization of what is going on, immediately dipping to watch you. His lips are swollen from licking them so much, his cheeks flushed. He looks ready to burst from his skin. 

You giggle, sucking your cheeks in like he did on your fingers, maintaining a steady pace. He bucks into you wildly, spilling pretty noises from his mouth shamelessly. They burrow in your ears, strike directly to your burning core. Your knees are sore but you continue, undeterred, focused on undoing him completely. Make him feel what he does to you. 

He twitches in your mouth. “Fucking hell,” he says, sloppily fucking into you. “I’m— Shit, I’m close. I’m gonna—”

You pull away from him. He cries in protest, looking down at you with a pained frown. You lick from his base to his tip. “Beg for it.” 

Matty doesn’t even think. “Angel, please, I need—”

“No,” you smirk, and there must be mischief written all over your face because he stares apprehensively. “Not to me. To God.” 

“Are you—” Disbelief is written all over his face. “Are you kidding me?” 

You chuckle, shaking your head, letting your lips trail back and forth over his tip. He makes another pained noise, blinking to keep from being overwhelmed with pleasure. “Ask Him.” 

Matty breathes harshly from his nose. He considers you, considers your mouth just an inch away from where he desperately needs it, and throws his head backwards. “God,” he starts. You laugh again, delighted. He ruins your faith, you ruin his. It’s only fair. “Hi, God. Sorry I don’t talk often. Can I please fucking come? I’m gonna fucking burst if you don’t let her— Oh, my God.” 

His head throws forward as you swallow him up. Your bobs are sloppy. You’re tired and sore deep in your bones, spit and drool and precum spilling everywhere between you. Your hand is drenched, your cheeks red with runaway tears. Still, you dedicate yourself to please him, running your tongue on his underside until he cries. 

“Oh, my God, fuck!” He repeats, shaking, and then comes with a scream. 

You’re surprised when he spills, pulling away with a gasp. The ropes of cum hit your chin instead, landing on your chest next, spreading down your skin. Only when he’s done, moans quieting slowly, do you kiss his tip just like he showed you. You put him back in his jeans. 

You look down at the mess. Your pretty camisole is stained again. Between your collarbones, your golden cross is coated in white. 

Matty catches his breath difficulty. You stare up at him. Catching his eyes, you take your cross between your lips, licking it clean. It’s salty on your tongue. You spit it back out glinting, drool dripping from it. Spotless. Cumless. He whines at the sight. 

“I wish you could see yourself,” he whispers. “You did so well for me. My best girl.” 

His best girl. You grin proudly. “Was I really the best?” 

“Yeah, you fucking— You’re like a fucking dream, angel.” 

You tsk. “I just had your cock in my mouth and you’re still calling me angel.” 

“Only because you like it.” Well, you can’t argue with that. 

You stand on trembling legs. Your knees crack, thighs burning in complaint, sticky and wet with your juices. Now that you’re free to think just a little more clearly, you realize how much you need him. To your core, to the beating muscle in your chest begging for him. 

“Let me show you how good you felt,” Matty says lowly. “Get me out of these.” His hands pull on the bow, still careful not to break it. 

You smirk, climbing your hands up his shoulder. “I remember you saying you wouldn’t even need them.” 

His eyes grow dark. “C’me here.” He spreads his thighs, leaving you a pretty perch to settle on. 

You straddle one, wasting no time to rock on it. You’re wet and needy, so fucking turned on you think you might boil under your skin. You won’t last long at all. 

The leg and the soft material of your underwear is heavenly on your swollen clit. He flexes under you and you moan, dropping your head on his shoulder, panting. Everything in you buzzes. You feel like you’re going insane. 

“Doing so well for me, baby,” he coos. “Fuck yourself on my thigh. Use me.” You whine, rocking faster. 

He’s warm under your fingertips. He’s tough, and real, and you miss him even when he’s right there. You want to seep under his skin, sleep tightly between his heart and his rib. You lick at his neck, kissing and nipping. A red splotch looks back at you once you pull away. There. Your mark on him, like a delible I was here. There’s a possessive thrill shooting up your spine. Maybe you finally understand why he bruises your thighs so much. 

Your movements speed up. You straighten, throwing your head back. Everything is intense, but nothing is enough. Matty dips to your chest. He licks and sucks at your cleavage, cleaning the cum off your skin. You moan at the feeling, at the knowledge. “Matty—”

“You’re so close,” he promises, nipping right above the hem of your camisole. You’re overheating. “Just a bit more.” What a lie. 

“It’s not the same,” you whine, bucking on his thigh desperately, finding growing need, but not release. Your eyebrows furrow. Your hips grow sloppy. “I can’t do it like you.” 

“Let me out.” He’s deadly serious. You vaguely shake your head. You’re in control. “Please, please, angel. Let me out. Let me please you. Let me make you come.” He makes a noise of frustration, flexing and unflexing his thigh underneath you. “I’ll make you scream. I promise. You know I will. Just let me out. I’ll give you what you need.” You pout, mulling on his suggestion. He narrows in on the weakness. “I need it. I need to see you. Come on, love. I just want to please you.” 

With a huff, you bend to your side, reaching behind him to undo the bow. The ribbon falls to the ground. Matty grips your hips the next instant. 

It’s fast and hard in a second, a delirious pace he settles you on. Your cunt drags over his thigh, wetting his jeans. You can’t stop moaning and, for once, you let the sounds leave your mouth freely. He seems eager to hear them, licking your chin and catching your lips for a head-twisting kiss. 

Matty pulls away to reach for your camisole. He pulls it down to uncover your chest, bending back to continue his artwork, sucking and licking at your nipples. You cry. Your hands bury in his hair. 

“Fucking drench me,” he begs. His hand sneaks between your legs, pulling your underwear to the side. He moves his fingers away quickly after, as though he had something to prove. 

Your clit hits the rough denim directly. It’s a sharp strike of pleasure each time. You buck wildly, trying to find that ravaging euphoria you need. Each furious stroke gets you closer. His hand burns your hip. Everything in him makes you hot and sticky. 

“Matty, I’m—”

“Come for me,” Matty pleads, running his tongue on your hard nipple. Ecstasy threatens the edges of you. “Fuck, come on my thigh. Fucking make a mess.”

“I’m—” Your mouth drops open with a silent cry and you come. You shudder against him. Pleasure waves through you, unreleasing that aching need. It hazes your mind more than the alcohol you just drank, more than a hit of cigarette, more than listening boredly in church. You’re tingling from your very tips, alive. 

“Oh, God,” you say. You blink the blur away, finding him grinning at you, sweaty and flushed and fucking delighted. 

“Told you I only needed my thighs,” he bites, cheeky. You grin. It was entirely true. You regret turning down his pleading request that day in church. You laugh, holding both of his cheeks with glee. 

“I can’t believe I did that,” you admit. You lower your thigh-high socks just to see the bruise on your knee, prove it’s real. You gasp suddenly, worry seeping in, “Oh, no,” you breathe, hand covering your mouth. “Will George be mad?” 

Matty laughs, throwing his head back. “He’s done worse in my room.” His hand rubs at your hip, soothing. “Let’s get you cleaned up. I can’t let you walk out with wine and cum stains on your top. That’s too much bad, even for me.” You giggle, nosing his cheek, then stand up. There’s a wet patch on his jeans and you flush when you spot it, though he only grins proudly. 

You’re jelly on your feet. You’re sticky-happy. Matty’s hand warms yours as he tugs you out of the bedroom and into a bathroom.

—

The road comes to a stop. A single street lamp lights you, drooping over Matty’s car. You stare up at it, then at him. His dark curls falling wildly around him, his red cheeks, his plump lips; everything invites you in, draws you to your doom. There’s a lesson to learn, to memorize, humming faraway. You prefer to indulge, to be caught red handed and shamed. As long as the before thoroughly drowns it out. 

Matty’s taste faintly lingers on your tongue.Your legs are loose and slack from another thunderous orgasm. He’s everywhere, and still you want him closer, deeper, longer. 

The identical houses stretch on infinitely. You recognize yours by the broken step you fell on when you were five, a vestige of you, a way to prove you exist. Matty kills the gas. 

“I hope you had fun,” he declares. You give him a purposeful onceover, smirking. Matty rolls his eyes, though pride still hangs in them. “More than that.”

“I had fun,” you agree. “I like your friends.”

“I like them too.” It’s so easy for him, so inherent. He loves his friends and he doesn’t even have to question the meaning of it, doesn’t have to overanalyze every interaction and how safe it can be to question a tweak of sentences. He gets to declare it, gets to mean it. You’re envious, faraway somewhere. 

“I like you,” you say, because you mean it, because vodka and wine still linger somewhere inside of you. Matty flushes.

“I do, too.”

You grin at the whisper, at the confirmation. He hasn’t known you for very long, yet he means it all the same. A friend, a more than. How you like him. 

Emotion overwhelms you. Your heart races, beating and beating against its bone prison, begging for something you can’t quite figure out. You don’t try to, instead listening to the familiar thrill fluttering inside of you. You unclasp your seatbelt, throw a leg over the console, settle on his lap. 

Matty doesn’t seem surprised that you straddle him, instead resting his hand lazily on your waist. It swallows your skin, big and sure, meant to dip and dig and curl. You shiver just at the thought, at the possibility.

I like you, hangs in the air. And more…

You give him a fiery, needy kiss. There’s a burning desire to consume him, to keep him firmly lodged in your throat as you walk the path to church. You kiss him like it, gripping his neck, his jaw, his cheeks, his hair. Anything you can get your hands on, anything to make him tangible. 

Your tongue is hot as it meets his. You tug on his hair, tilting your head, meeting him better. He tastes like cigarettes and you, and the knowledge makes you burn. You want him so deeply you might choke from the lack of him. He needs to be closer, deeper. You make an unsatisfied groan, dropping your hands to his belt. 

Urgently, you paw at his pants, trying to get it off with shaky fingers. Your insides throb and clench around nothing, pleading for him. You’re tired of fighting inherent instincts, of battling guilt and morals. You want to feel good— great. Want to eclipse any doubt. 

Matty breaks from your lips, but you’re undeterred, licking down his cheeks as you unbutton his jeans. You bite and suck at his neck, leaving your very own purple bruise, marking him the way he always seems to do you. Different. Changed. 

Matty’s head drops on his seat. He sighs desperately, makes a low groan, and pushes you away from him. You pant, hungrily pulling at the hem of his shirt. He stops it with a heavy hand. 

“Not here,” Matty says, shortwinded. His dark eyes almost seem regretful to say so. “Not for the first time.”

You catch your breath slowly, deeply. You wipe at your mouth. Nod faintly. “Right.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no—” You laugh. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t—” You grimace. “I wouldn’t want to do it in a car. For the first time.” Matty nods. 

“Soon, maybe?” Matty whispers nonetheless, a promise and a beg. 

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Maybe soon.” The words hang in the air, meaningful. 

You open the driver’s door, falling out of it gracelessly. You straighten with a proud smile, flash your teeth at him. Your white outfit is still stained; an opposite mirror of his. “Goodnight, Matty.”

“Night, love,” he says, amused. 

You turn around and run to your house. The trellis ivies up terribly— terrifyingly— far up. You stare at it convinced, taking a step with a purpose. 

[alovesreading]

Chicken Shop Date | Part 8 |

By @imagine-that-100​​​ and @alovesreading​​​

Description: Matty Healy x Reader (Female) | You and your best friend Amelia came up with a very simple idea of taking celebrities on awkward chicken shop dates, and somehow, it’s managed to become both of your jobs. In the past, you’ve found sitting across from some of the biggest stars on the planet and eating chicken nuggets easy. But then Amelia manages to score you a date with the man who you’ve been obsessed with since you were nineteen; Matty Healy.

Word Count: 28.6k

A/N: Hey besties!! We’re back and this one’s another fun one for you! We were reminiscing about the UK tour writing this one, giving those good days a CSD twist and we hope you enjoy it loads. It was so much fun to write the shit everyone would get up to on the road, but can you believe this one was meant to be the end of this series? Mentalllllllll. Please make sure to check out the author’s note at the end of this as it’s an important one. Thanks for reading! Enjoy! xx

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | 

| N’s Masterlist | A’s Masterlist |

~*~*~*~ 14th January ~*~*~*~

“Baby please.”

The begging has been going on for about half an hour. It’s come and gone in waves but Matty’s getting more and more desperate and more persistent.

“Please baby, please.” Matty pouts, looking pained now, “I need you.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, in yet another way of questioning him. His arms are tight around your waist, not letting you move from straddling his lap because he thinks that will be how he gets his way.

“You’re being so needy.” You smirk, shaking your head, not giving in to his pitiful pleas.

“Please, please, please.” He looks like he could start crying and it takes everything in you not to laugh. You try and push yourself up off him but he grips your hips even tighter, not letting you move an inch away.

“Matty.” You sigh, your hands resting on his shoulders as you tell him, “I can’t.”

“You can.” Matty changes tactics then and leans in and kisses his way up your neck until he’s whispering in your ear, “Please baby, I really want you to come.”

“No,” You grab a handful of his curls then and pull him back so you can look at him and say, “I can’t come on tour with you Matty.”

Your boyfriend whines, “But you said before I even asked the question that you don’t have anything planned until you go to Copenhagen in February. And you’re coming to half the fucking dates anyway. Please.”

“I will be in the way.” You shake your head.

He promises, “You won’t!”

“Matty, I would be like a spare part, not to mention your tour bus would be full to the brim if I tagged along.” You shake your head, not seeing at all how he could change your mind.

“You wouldn’t,” He frowns, silently scorning you for thinking like that before a hint of a grin comes to his face as he says, “And you’d be sleeping in my bunk, with me.”

“That's going to be so comfy,” You roll your eyes, “Two tall people in a coffin sized bunk for more than two weeks.”

“Thanks for admitting I’m tall baby, but listen.” He looks all proud of himself for his height for a second before he goes into getting his points across again, “We’re in hotels in Cardiff and back home for Manchester so it’s only like a week on the bus really.”

“The bus isn’t the issue Matty.” You sigh, giving him the honest answer, “The issue is I’ll be in the way, feeling useless.”

The bunk wouldn’t be an issue for you at all. You both practically sit on each other's lap when you’re with no other company anyway so sharing a small bed will be the least of your worries. You just know that you’ll feel useless and that you’re a hindrance to things running smoothly.

“Charli’s coming,” Matty raises his eyebrows, “You saying she’s useless?”

“She has musical value.” Your excuses fall easily from your lips, but you can’t help but smile at the way he’s begging, “Can’t you just be happy with me coming to the dates I’m already coming to. You’ll see me every five days.”

“So there's absolutely no reason you can’t see me for the other four in between.” Matty acts playfully annoyed, saying that through his teeth before he leans in to kiss you. “Besides, you really think you’re coming to the gig and then I just leave you that night? Absolutely not… I have needs.”

“You have my Instagram.” You backchat and Matty groans loudly.

There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips as he says, “Whilst I love that you put your Golden Globes dress on there for me to wank to Y/N, I’d prefer it if you were just there to wank me off instead.”

“So romantic.” You snort in laughter.

“Please, you’re obsessed with me and my boys and my music.” Matty pouts with absolutely no dignity left, “And I’m obsessed with you. Please come on tour with me?”

“You’re right, I am obsessed with you,” You smile, kissing his nose to combat the bad news you’re about to give him, “But no, I’m not coming on tour, and that’s that.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

So, Matty persuaded you to come on tour.

It ended up being as easy as him teasing an orgasm out of you, followed later by three phone calls. The first to Amelia, where he asked for proof that you were free - which you were - and then asked if he could steal her best friend away to join him on tour, and Amelia only laughed but didn’t hesitate at all to say of course.

The second call was to his manager Jamie. Where Matty asked Jamie to explicitly tell you how it was not an issue if you came along, and he even said that you could help their photographer Jordan put together a few social media posts if you really wanted something to do. But you were welcome to come along regardless and that the 1975 family would be lucky to have you.

And the third call was to the queen of pop herself, Miss Charli XCX. And it was Charli who really made you agree to joining them as she pleaded with you to tag along. She jokes how she can’t be the only groupie to come along on tour with them (Carly apparently didn’t count) and if you’re really honest, you just can’t say no to Charli at all. It feels wrong to, so after ten minutes of her and Matty giving you their best arguments, you gave in and agreed to join them.

That evening you and Matty went over to your flat where you packed a large suitcase full of everything you could need, and the next day you were on the tour bus with them heading on the rest of their UK tour. And god, you were so glad you agreed to join them.

There’s never a dull moment in that tour bus, it’s either the lads managing to make everyone laugh with their random occurrences, sharing spliffs turning into funny stories being aired for everyone to laugh at or games that end up in the same interesting way they started as.

Being around for soundcheck felt like you’d won some kind of prize. A glimpse into how it all works is so entertaining for you, not to mention them singing to an empty arena that pretty much just has you, Charli, and Carly in it is so much fun.

There have been so many times that you’ve caught yourself just staring up at them on stage and being in awe all over again. But Matty can’t help but find you so entertaining, you’re either singing loudly along at the barrier before Charli pulls you to dance with her, and he is smiling the whole way through what he usually finds boring and inconvenient.

Matty has absolutely adored having you come along on tour. Your presence alone makes him so much more joyful, and everyone who was present for the beginning of the tour has seen the difference. He feels more himself, more alive, and so much happier. And it’s all down to you.

The boring moments on the tour bus, you made them so much better for him. The hours he had to sit with his vocal steamer on, it made it so much nicer when you were lying with your head in his lap or his in yours. You’d both play with each other's hair, listen to music, and now and again chat to each other and the others. But Matty couldn’t stop grinning the whole time.

Even during the first few performances when you were somewhere lost in the crowd and he couldn’t find you, still you made your presence known to him. The first time it was just accidental though, you had written him a note as everyone was discussing the setlist and you’d slipped it into his pocket as a joke thinking he would notice and check.

Matty, however, hadn’t noticed your sleight of hand in the green room and he later found the note when he reached into his pocket half way through the Being Funny section of the set. He pulled out the crumpled up piece of paper and opened it on stage, accidentally laughing down the microphone when he read your words.

I’m trying this again: play antichrist x Pretty, please xx Picture me pouting at you, how can you say no to that? xoxox

The singer was well aware the crowd of people were confused about the note that they could see on the screens, and his laughter, but all Matty did was pocket the note again (fully intending to keep it) and grab his guitar and start playing the chords to I’m In Love With You.

The next day he caught you putting another note in his pocket but he kept quiet, wanting to read it on stage again as a little reminder of you to look forward too during his set. And it's again before he’s due to play I’m In Love With You that his hand dips into his pocket and he finds the note.

He’s smiling instantly, expecting it to be another note pleading for Antichrist, but instead this one is a little different, yet still entirely you.

I need a hug and six months of sleep x (maybe a kiss too)

When he laughs at this one, he hears George ask what's so funny through his in-ears but he elects to ignore him. Once again just picking up his guitar and singing the entirety of I’m In Love With You with a huge grin on his face.

The 3rd time it’s Cardiff night 2 and when he reads the note that night he knows you’ve done it on purpose. You’re a fucking menace who loves to tease him even when you’re not in his presence. As that night the note read:

You better think of me on that settee x

He didn’t laugh that night, no instead his dick twitched and he was reminded about your morning in the hotel and how you were both interrupted before anything could happen (you fell straight asleep as soon as you got in bed the night before) and you had been subtly teasing him all day. Whispering things in his ear, leaving longing touches on him knowing he couldn’t react how he would if the two of you were alone, and then the note.

He didn’t need you to explicitly instruct him to think of you during consumption, as he always did anyway. But this time he put a little more effort into his performance, hoping to tease you a little in the crowd.

And tease you he did. That night you watched as he teased himself on screen, smoking and letting his hands trail down his body until he squeezed himself through his trousers, and your mouth went dry with want when he simulated pulling on someone's hair. On your hair.

Needless to say that when you got back to the hotel room that night, you were on your back almost instantly, Matty’s head dipping between your thighs until you were on the verge of coming undone on his tongue. But he edged you time and time again until you were whimpering, pleading for him to fuck you like no one else could.

It was lucky you were spending another night at the hotel really because Matty doesn’t know what he would have done if you were both stuck not being able to find any relief until another two days' time when you were due in Glasgow. Thankfully he didn’t have to find out. You both alleviated the tension between you that night and again the following morning before you all returned to the bus to start the long drive up to Glasgow on their off day.

The journey wasn’t so bad, you got to have a good laugh with the band, especially loving the time you got to spend with Adam and Carly’s little boy. You got to play with him when he wasn’t down for a nap and Matty loved every second of seeing you and his nephew interact.

You remember that afternoon, Carly had just changed the baby after he woke up from his nap and she’d let you have him. One of your favourite things to do with him was sit him down on your lap and read him one of his little books he had and let him blabber on and on as he tried to copy the words you were saying. But he had started crying in the middle of you trying to get him to say ‘orange’ and you couldn’t find a reason for why he was so upset.

Uncle Matty had come to the rescue and got him from you, and it was when he picked him up that he realised he needed another change, so you went with him to change the baby’s nappy.

It was going so well, you distracting baby Hann keeping him happy and calm as Matty changed him, but Matty made the awful mistake of letting him hold the baby powder. It was once he splayed out the new nappy under him, the baby waved his arms happily at the freedom, Matty had been bathed in talcum powder.

Matty immediately froze, face and hair covered in white, his top had a few streaks of white powder sticking to it and baby Hann had managed to get some on his little chest and arm but he had giggled loudly with you when you cackled at the situation.

Blowing harshly to get rid of the talcum off his lips, Matty huffed out a soft, “I didn’t know it was open.” which amused you even more, doubling over in laughter but taking away the powder bottle from the baby’s hands so he wouldn’t continue making a mess.

Your boyfriend loved to pride himself in doing everything right so you’d taken the mishap to tease him a bit, “Uncle Matty struggling for once, who would’ve thought?”

He’d only rolled his eyes at you, and you watched out of the corner of your eye how he rubbed the powder off himself as you wiped it off the baby and finished changing his nappy.

When you’d gone back to the lounge with everyone and placed a happy again baby Hann on your lap and continued trying to get him to say the names to different fruits, you found him looking at you with adoring eyes.

But not even the sparkle in his eye would make you forget what had happened, so, letting the baby speak gibberish as he harshly pointed at the banana on the book’s page, you turned to Matty and sighed, “I wish I had taken a picture.”

His smile had fallen and he glared at you before rolling his eyes to chat back sarcastically, “I’m sure you do.”

And the rest of the day you had made a joke of ruffling his hair swearing there was some more talcum powder left. The last time you do this, he ends up telling you it’s just his grey hairs and you exaggerate a gasp, pretending like you’ve just now realised.

“Right, I forgot you’re an actual grandad.” You sucked air through your teeth like the fact was making you wince.

But then he went all cute when he flipped it around by reminding you, “And you’re a grandma so it’s meant to be, really.”

A chuckle was your response, which died quickly when he pressed his lips on yours to kiss you sweetly, half to shut you up and half because he’d been dying to for the past few minutes.

That afternoon, both of you ended up catching some alone time, which was really nice when you’re on a bus with sixteen other people. You’re in the back lounge listening to one of your many playlists, both with an AirPod in each ear and lying on the back settee with Matty behind you while you’re watching as the world goes by as you travel further north.

You’re sitting between Matty’s legs, your back against his chest and you both occasionally catch yourselves singing or humming along to the music. Matty wouldn’t change the scenario for the world, he gets to lie there with you against him, kissing the top of your head whenever he feels like, and he absentmindedly plays with the end of your hair.

The singer doesn’t even mind when one of his songs starts up, he finds it amusing that you have absolutely no shame with it being on there. And knowing now that it’s one of your new favourites he even loves hearing you softly sing along.

“Do you think that I’ve forgotten?” You quietly sing, “Do you think that I’ve forgotten? Do you think that I’ve forgotten, about you?”

Hearing that though makes Matty frown, and he waits until you sing it again as confirmation. His biggest fan in the world and now also his girlfriend, has got the lyrics wrong.

He’s trying not to laugh when he gets your attention, “Baby?”

“Yeah.” You ask, tilting your head back a little to look up at him.

He looks really pretty with the way the dimming light is hitting his face through the window. His skin is like it's glowing with the way the sun shines on him, and you find yourself thinking you’re so lucky again especially with the way he’s smiling at you.

Matty can’t help but smirk, “You know you’re getting the lyrics to that wrong, right?”

“No I’m not.” Instantly you frown up at him, entirely defensive.

“Yes,” Matty tries not to laugh, “You are.”

Your frown deepens, your whole face scrunching up as you ask, “Which bit?”

“The main bit,” He tells you, “Do you think I have forgotten… you’re singing ‘do you think that I've forgotten’.”

“They’re the lyrics.” You nod, looking at him like he’s stupid.

He can’t stop himself from chuckling, “No they’re not, baby.”

“Yeah, they are,” You nod, sitting up a little and turning to look at him properly, “I’ve been singing that since the album dropped.”

“Y/N,” Matty grins, entirely amused by you not believing him, “I wrote the song, I think I know the lyrics.”

At that you scoff, “You literally tell people that they are brave for getting lyrics tattooed because you have a tendency for changing them.”

You have a point there to be fair. So Matty just nods down to your phone and tells you to, “Listen to the song again then if you don’t believe me.”

So you do, you start About You again and when you really listen to the lyrics, the little shit might be right. But you’re not having it still, and your denial only makes this even funner to Matty.

You huff when the song ends, still frowning, “As soon as this bus stops we’re going to HMV so I can buy a CD or a vinyl or something so I can see the lyrics.”

“Baby.” Matty says knowingly, whilst grinning like a fool.

“No,” But you’re not having it, “I don’t believe it until I see it officially in the lyrics in the album.”

“Y/N,” Your boyfriend tries to remind you, “I literally wrote the song.”

“And yet I don't trust you even a little bit.” You say, getting yourself up and giving him a snarky smile before you pinch the airpod out of his ear and head back to the others in the main lounge.

On your way you can hear Matty laughing but he doesn’t say anything when he enters the room a moment later. All that he does is grin, knowing he’s right for once, and the grin stays on his face for another hour until you’re pulling him off the bus and into the bustling city centre.

You had to be quick, getting your shoes and coats on and into an anonymous enough state that you wouldn’t be recognised. Well, mostly Matty, hip putting his hood up instantly wrapping himself up in his big coat with sunglasses on as the light was starting to disappear. You did feel like an idiot when he put sunglasses on you too, but then he reminded you that you were keeping your relationship out of everyone else's business for now so he even pulled up your hood too.

You were on a mission to reach HMV before it closed and thankfully you got there with about 20 minutes to spare. It was nice walking hand in hand with Matty though, and chatting about what was going on around you and all the stuff that you liked that you saw in different shop windows.

Matty tried to suggest you go in and have a look before everything closes but you pulled him along with you until you were inside HMV and had a CD of Being Funny In A Foreign Language in your hands. Your boyfriend finds you adorable when you had a grin on your face when you picked it up, as if it wasn’t going to be on the shelf. He can’t help but smile at you.

But his smile falls from his face when you walk up to the A section and pick up a copy of AM and tell him, “I’m going to get Flo to get him to sign it for me.”

Matty just shakes his head and pulls you along to the till, wanting more time wandering around while the shops were still open. Once you handed over the CDs, thankfully Matty managed not to let you pay for them as he beat you to getting his phone on the card machine, something which you scorned him for until you were out of the shop and he shut you up with a kiss.

With the rest of the evening free, you and Matty ended up having an impromptu date. You ended up walking to the Cineworld which wasn’t a far walk and you ended up going to watch M3GAN as there weren't many other good options. This you thankfully ended up paying for, much to Matty’s dismay, but you reminded him that you said you would be paying on the next date so you got your drinks and popcorn too.

Both of you sat in the back corner where you happily remained undetected by anyone and Matty couldn’t stop smiling at the fact he got to hold your hand for the entirety of the film. Even if the film was mediocre at best, he was glad he got to chuckle away with it with you by his side.

Only when you both made it back to the bus just after 10:30, did you find that it was just Adam, Carly, and baby still on board, as everyone else had gone out drinking. They were watching a film in the back lounge so you and Matty just said a quick hello before keeping to yourselves.

There was a quick conversation about possibly going to join the others but Matty didn’t want to. He selfishly wanted you all to himself for a while longer. It's when you get your shit out of your bag that you notice the CDs that until now have remained untouched. You pull Being Funny out with a smile and turn to your boyfriend who’s already noticed what you have and is smirking at you, waiting expectantly.

You’re eager to wipe that look from his face so you sit down beside him and carefully take the CD out of the sleeve it comes in and you pick out the lyrics sheet. Finding About You is easy but then your world crumbles, you’re wrong.

Do you think I have forgotten about you?

Matty cackles when your face falls and you just silently fold the sheet back up and slip it back beside the CD with a look of defeat on your face. Your boyfriend pulls you into him and you fall into his chest as you stubbornly stay rigid in his arms.

He giggles, “I told you so.”

You push yourself out of his grasp, jokingly keeping the annoyed facade going and you push the cd into his chest as you get up, “You can sign it now for that comment, dick.”

“Aw,” Matty coos and throws the CD to the table. He jokes as he wraps his arms around you, still wanting to laugh, “Knew you were only with me to make money on Ebay.”

“Got that right.” You nod and Matty just cackles as he places kisses on your cheeks.

The following night in Glasgow when soundchecking, Matty pulled you onto the stage with him as he sang the correct version of About You, and he pulled you around the ‘house’ with him. And you pretending not to be impressed lasted about 10 seconds because you just ended up grinning and singing along the entire time.

Even more so when he had you kneel down on the floor in front of the table and he stood on it and reached down with his microphone to put it against your chin, exactly like he did to the girl in the Robbers music video. Needless to say, you got all flustered but you played your part anyway, even sticking your tongue out like the girl did in the video and Matty let his fingers dance across your tongue for a second.

When you knelt back on your ankles, so you could sing along with Polly, Matty then got down and sat on the edge of the table and he slowly leant in to kiss you. “Having fun?” He mouthed and you gently nodded until his lips took yours. It felt magical kissing him on stage, especially because you knew it all felt a little bit meta with it looking exactly like the Robbers video as he was singing the follow up to it.

That night on stage at the actual show, your note made Matty laugh, reminding him of yesterday with the talcum powder incident with his nephew.

Greys looking beautiful tonight grandad x

The Glasgow crowd was great, you loved every single second of being in that crowd. You spent a bit of your time with Jordan that night, going to different places with him and watching him take pictures from afar before you ultimately made yourself at home in the pit.

You thought that this being your 6th show, you would have somehow found it less painful to leave the pit during Give Yourself A Try, but it’s not. It still pains you each time you do it, but thankfully you can still hear it when you disappear off to head backstage with Jamie.

It ends up being an hour and a half before you end up back on the bus, and that night you were heading straight down to Manchester. Somewhere you’re really eager to go because you’d only been a handful of times and you really didn’t know the ins and outs of the city like Matty does, so when he promised you a tour you got really excited at the thought. You couldn’t wait till tomorrow to get there.

But it was that night on the bus when you needed to squeeze out of the bunk to get yourself a drink that you noticed your tote from the previous day was folded up on the table. You grab it, intending to put it in the mesh pocket of yours and Mattys bunk so you don’t lose it, but instead you feel CDs. And that’s when you remember your purchases.

You take them out, smiling when you see AM, knowing Flo will find it funny that you bought it. But it’s when you see Being Funny that you’re a little shocked and your heart doubles in size.

Never for a second did you think Matty would actually sign the CD for you, but he did sign his name in the top right hand corner with three kisses underneath it. But it’s what he’s written on the left side that has you melting.

// Be A Riot //

It’s then that you know that the man who wrote that for you is probably the most special person in your life, as even though it may seem like such a simple lyric to write, it means so much more. You fully allow yourself to give in to every little happiness he brings you from that moment on, and it starts with you going back to your bunk and plastering hundreds of kisses across his face before you settle down and whisper to each other just how obsessed you are and falling asleep in each other's arms.

~*~*~*~ 20th January ~*~*~*~

Manchester is so much fun, especially with Matty by your side. He really is the best tour guide, and he had been everywhere else you’d been, but he seems to come alive in his hometown.

He holds your hand the entire time, both of you dressed in your disguises so no one spots you wondering around the day of their gig. It made you giggle at the amount of people in 1975 tops that you passed but thankfully Matty evaded detection.

You felt like you were watching your boyfriend's Zane Lowe interview all over again because Matty took you around the same places the video showed. But it was so much fun with Matty explaining to you properly and in detail the shit that he and the boys got up to when they were younger.

First he takes you around the Northern Quarter, he shows you the square of bars that will be heaving later on that night and he shows you the spot where he wrote The City back in the day and you don’t even try and hide your smile from him.

Going to Afflecks and seeing their poster up on the wall surrounded by so many other posters of musical legends fills your heart and you can’t help yourself taking a quick picture of it to keep for yourself.

You were gutted you couldn’t take a picture with it but when you look up the stairs to the right and you catch a glimpse of a photo booth, you almost drag Matty upstairs with you so you can freely take a picture together without risking getting caught.

He’s faster than you when he pays for the pictures once you’re inside and the curtain’s drawn, and you both quickly put your hoods down and take off your sunglasses so that you don’t take pictures in your disguises.

At first you think 6 poses is going to be a job for you to come up with in less than 5 seconds in between pictures but your boyfriend makes you giggle so much that it comes natural when you mess about in front of the camera.

Matty’s cute though, cupping your jaw and giving you a sweet kiss for the last one and when you see them all printed, you melt in his arms. He steals one last kiss as you finish getting yourselves back into your disguises and you make sure to carefully put the photo strips away before you walk out of the booth.

Before you have to go back to the venue for soundcheck, he takes you to Gorilla and when you get there he tells you what he has planned for the gig they’re going to have there.

He nonchalantly says, “We’re doing all of self titled.” and you gasp loudly in response.

“What?!” Is the only thing you can say after that information has been dumped on you.

Matty chuckles in amusement, “Yeah… Thought you’d like that news.”

“Not when I have a trip to Copenhagen planned for Amelia’s Birthday!” You hide your face in your hands and take a deep breath before asking, “Deluxe version or just the regular version?”

“What happens if I say deluxe…” Matty taunts you with a smirk, but when you drop your hands and glare at him very seriously, he presses his lips together not to laugh.

“You better not.” It’s all you warn him with, even the thought of that happening makes you sick.

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest, dropping a kiss on your cheek and then one on the corner of your mouth and right before he can trap your lips in a sweet kiss, he whispers, “The regular version.”

You allow yourself to melt into him for a bit, but when his tongue teases your bottom lip, you pull away to make him suffer a bit for what you’re going to miss soon. Your hand comes up to his cheek and you pat it softly, “It better be.”

Going back to the venue was a bit more hectic than you expected, you had to be very careful with not getting caught by the big queue of fans lining up outside the venue for the show. But once inside, thanks to Mark and Scott being the absolute best, being around everyone again is a relief. A newfound sense of familiarity that you’re growing to cherish, therefore you’re dreading the end of tour in only 10 days.

When you walk out to watch the lads on stage and you see Charli up there with them, George guiding her into the house through the door and showing her the way around, your jaw drops.

“Are you the surprise tonight?!” You ask loudly, your hand hovering over your mouth in shock.

Charli offers you a smirk and nods, “Yes baby!”

You squeal in excitement, and watch as she quickly rehearses what her entrance will be like. She puts on a little show for you as she sings a few scattered lines of Vroom Vroom into a microphone that doesn’t play through the speakers. Of course she couldn’t soundcheck properly so that no one could hear and ruin the surprise, but she trusted that it would go smoothly when the time came for her to walk in on stage.

Carly, Charli and you are standing against the barricade fence after your pop star friend has finished her brief rehearsal and you watch the lads soundcheck with a big smile on your faces.

Their banter makes you all laugh, and you all join in taking the piss of each other here and there. When your boyfriend taps his trouser’s pocket with his brows raised, you know it’s his silent way to ask about getting a note tonight and you wink at him in response. A cute blush rises on his cheeks and his voice grows sweeter when he starts singing the chorus to Oh Caroline when he’s instructed through his in-ears.

Your note makes him giggle as he flushes from head to toe, he can feel his cheeks warm and that feeling you give him envelops him entirely. A bubble of happiness bursts inside him and it coats every inch of him, all because you said…

Obsessed with you x

He sings with a bit more intent after that. The fact that it’s Manchester they’re playing in and that he wants to impress you even more, makes for his voice to come out beautifully sultry and you’re left in awe hearing him come to life on stage.

Like you expected, Amelia was shocked to the core when you facetime her with the little bit of signal you get as Charli is about to walk on stage, and you all but scream the lyrics out along with the pop queen and the rest of the crowd.

After that the gig just kept getting better though. Your boyfriend got a Greggs sausage roll thrown at him and he was giggling as he picked it up and took a bite and then spat it out. It certainly gave everyone a laugh, the band included, and they continued their set.

When the gig finishes and you head back to the greenroom, Matty comes all sweaty to you and traps you in a hug that then turns to him wrapping an arm around your waist and using his other hand to cup your jaw and pull you in for a dizzying kiss.

“Obsessed with you too.” Matty says once he pulls back, his forehead pressed against yours and nudging your nose with his in a cute eskimo kiss.

He feels as you scrunch up your nose and you lean in for another quick kiss, humming into it as a sign of approval. You don’t think you’ll ever grow tired of hearing him say those words to you, it always manages to make you putty in his hands.

Drinking with everyone and enjoying the wave of energy after the show is so fulfilling every time. An excuse to celebrate the band’s talent and their continuous delivery on a great show. So it’s easy to let time fly by as you do: cracking jokes, laughing at the guys’ occurrences, sharing their funny views of the crowd, talking about how mental it had gotten when Charli came out.

Soon enough it’s time to leave the venue but you’re surprised when you get to the bus and your boyfriend tells you to get your stuff because you’re staying somewhere else tonight.

You were expecting a hotel room to be the destination but when you sit in the back of the Uber Matty has ordered, he tells you with a massive grin that the plan for tonight is, “We’re staying at Denise’s.”

Matty doesn’t miss the way your face lights up at the news and he feels your heating cheeks when you hide your face in the crook of his neck with a soft squeal of excitement only he hears.

It takes about half an hour to get to Denise’s house so when you walk through the front door, you find her half asleep waiting for you to get there. She greets you sweetly, this time remembering your name instead of calling you ‘chicken nugget date girl’, and only after a few minutes of small talk she excuses herself to go to bed.

Lincoln isn’t far behind her, making everyone a brew before he goes upstairs to join his wife who’s probably already asleep despite him making her a cup of tea too. Louis chats with the both of you a little more before he calls it a night too.

Your boyfriend doesn’t waste more time after his family leaves to drag you upstairs, promising he’d show you around tomorrow. He was also knackered and he had wanted to have you all to himself for ages now, so it’s very quick that you find yourself walking into his childhood bedroom and smiling at the glimpse into a younger Matty’s mind.

You look at the pictures he has on the walls, of the four boys among other friends who he went to school with or met at various parties. You spotted Flo in a few of them too and it’s so adorable to you that you get a glimpse into the people they used to be.

You were smiling and asking questions about them all, even telling Matty that a photobooth picture of him and Flo from when they clearly first got together was cute. You like that he hasn’t shut off that part of his life and the picture is still up, because after all his experiences have made him into the man who he is today.

Matty smiles at the memory of it but he just takes the photobooth picture that the two of you took today and puts it up in a free spot on his wall. That warms your heart deeply, you can’t stop grinning as the both of you then get settled.

The singer jumps on his bed, flopping down on it and you giggle watching his hair flying everywhere and eventually coming to rest almost over his eyes. Matty just lets out a long sigh, clearly loving the feeling of lying on a proper bed again and you must admit you can’t wait to join him.

Matty makes no effort to get himself undressed, other than kicking off his shoes and socks and pulling his tie even looser. Instead he watches you, not even bothering to hide how much he’s grinning as he watches you make yourself at home in his room.

His grin only gets bigger when he watches you get undressed and he mutters under his breath how fucking good you look which just makes you flush a little but you choose to mostly ignore him and instead ask for one of his tops. He points over to a drawer where he knows there will be some and he smiles watching as you pull out his Revelation Records original bold top and slip it on.

You finish changing and come to sit down on his bed, grabbing your skincare stuff and start blindly applying it to yourself. That is until Matty exaggeratedly coughs a few times clearly expectantly as he wants you to do his too like you’ve been doing every night you’ve been away.

He’s all smiles as you rub the various creams into his face, even kissing the palm of your hand and then over the tattoo on your wrist followed by a small thank you when you finish. After that though he puckers his lips at you, and you giggle as you scooch down the bed and get comfy enough to kiss him how he wants.

Your heart feels very full, being in your boyfriends childhood bedroom, kissing him goodnight after he’s put on an excellent hometown show, with only the warm light of his bedside lamp letting you see just how big his smile gets. It’s really difficult for your heart not to stretch to a certain place too early, but you love everything about this new relationship despite only being in it for such a short amount of time.

But with him kissing you so sweetly, how he always does, and him pulling you into him so you’ve got practically no space between you, it’s not a shock he always makes your heart stutter. You love getting lost kissing him, it’s certainly a favourite pastime of yours.

And you love the feeling of your fingers tangled in his hair, how he clutches you tighter when you do to his curls and the groans he lets out when you pull on them.

You do just that and just like you were expecting, his mouth hangs open for a second when he lets out a groan. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you, giddy from the affection and the realisation of how you’re growing to anticipate his actions.

The sound of your bubbly laugh lights up a spark inside him. The walls of the dam that contains all that he feels for you burst and it all comes pouring hot and sticky, melting his insides and flipping a switch that makes him eager to translate the mess of his emotions into something you can understand.

He presses your lips a bit harder then, hips bucking forward and pressing in between your parted legs which has you gasping. Your tongues meet and taste each other when he catches his chance to do so, fingers digging into your skin as his hold grows with intention.

Matty doesn’t want to let you go. He doesn’t think he ever will.

But he won’t get ahead of himself. He wants to make you feel good, like you do to him with just your presence, with the simple sweetness of your laughter, the warmth of your touch, your silly jokes at his expense. He could go on and on, every day adding a new thing to the list.

In your head, a very different train of thought is going on. You’re entirely too aware of where you are and who is in the same space as you, so feeling him getting increasingly eager about getting off with you, you have to be the one to cut things before they move past a point of no return.

“Matty.” You smile, knowing where this road leads and it’s not somewhere the both of you can go in his childhood bedroom.

“Mmmh.” He hums against your lips, keeping them against yours not wanting to stop kissing you at all.

You repeat yourself, “Matty,” this time hoping he takes the hint.

He reluctantly pulls away, quickly asking, “What?” as he pecks your lips a few more times.

You’re grinning as you tell him with knowing eyes, “Calm down.”

But that makes your boyfriend frown a little, “What’s wrong?”

“We’re in your Mum's house.” You remind him, almost finding it funny he forgot, “She'll hear us. Your whole family will hear us.”

“No they won’t.” Matty shakes his head, knowing he’s not been caught out before so he doesn’t expect he will now. “Relax, I wanna make you feel good baby.”

“Matty.” You try to reason with him, still not entirely sold on the idea.

The sheer embarrassment of Denise knowing you’ve shagged her son in her house a mere 20 days after first getting with him is something you don’t think you could ever live down. You’re aware she’s a legend and a lovely person so she would probably never comment on it even if she did hear you, but you don't know if you could handle the embarrassment of being looked at with knowing eyes.

“Come on, I know you can bite those pretty lips to stop yourself being loud.” Matty grins, dragging his thumb over your already puffy bottom lip. “Can you do that for me baby?”

Instinctively you nod, always wanting to be good for him, but then you realise what you’ve just agreed to, “But-”

Matty’s already chuckling at you giving in and then catching yourself. As soon as he sees that nod of yours he moves his hand from your hip to between your legs and feels that you’ve soaked through your underwear which makes his jaw lock and your ‘but’ catch in your throat and whine.

Your boyfriend starts drawing circles over your clit through your underwear and if he didn’t have the confirmation of what you want already, the buck of your hips into his hand certainly gave it to him. And Matty can’t fucking wait to have you unravel underneath him again, he’s dying to at this point.

Your boyfriend kisses you sweetly again as if he’s not already doing anything sinful, “You gonna let me make you feel good?”

You nod a little in his hold, “Yeah.” pleasure already creeping its way up your spine.

“Good girl.” He smirks before kissing you deeply once more, before pulling away and telling you to, “Relax.”

But there's only so much relaxing you can do when a man is kissing his way down your body, heading to where you want him desperately.

Your boyfriend teases you beyond belief, that sinful tongue of his licking up your already soaked underwear just to make you choke on your breath and bite your bottom lip harder before he decides he wants to play with you a little more. After pulling your underwear off, you expect him to go straight to where you’re already throbbing for him, but no.

Matty decides that now is the time to appreciate a woman’s thighs. Slowly he kisses, licks, and bites his way down your skin, building your anticipation again and again until your hips gain a mind of their own and start bucking towards him, it makes Matty chuckle at the same time you plead for him to stop teasing you.

Only after you beg him once more does he give you what you want. Matty laps at your clit like a man starved, knowing exactly how to tease you now and he smirks to himself when your thighs tremble beside his head before dipping his tongue down to drink you in again.

He notices the way you’re holding your moans to yourself, huffing as he flicks your swollen clit with a skilled tongue, your teeth digging harshly on your bottom lip to quiet your whines when he sucks on your clit.

A pop slices the struggling silence in the room when he pulls back, and you find how at the pressure of keeping quiet, his praise heightens your need by a tenfold. “So good for me baby.” His words fall sweetly from his lips, lashes fluttering as he looks up to you and you nod in agreement, hips writhing as an attempt to get him back to what he was doing.

“Think you can hold those pretty sounds as you cum on my tongue.” Your boyfriend says next, dropping a string of kisses on your inner thigh, taking the opportunity to dig his teeth on your skin as if pushing you to the edge and see how much you can take until you break your silence.

You nod frantically, your eyes closed, teeth biting down hard on your bottom lip only letting the tiniest hum of confirmation spill. And you’re sure Matty smirks again before he moves back to your core, only giving you a few seconds of teasing when his hot breath hits your core and you squirm at the feeling.

His wet and bold tongue comes to meet your dripping centre and it’s a blinding feeling of relief and tightening pleasure that just promises to drive you insane. You’re almost holding your breath so that you don’t make a noise but the faster he becomes in his movements on your clit, the more you fail. Your breath grows heavy and it starts leaving you in gasps, hands clawing at the sheets of the bed so tightly so you don’t let your whines slip past your lips.

Senses go into overdrive, all you can see is white behind your eyelids but your ears are catching so well the wet sounds of his mouth on your slick cunt. Your hips become erratic when the coil in the pit of your stomach tightens to an eye-watering degree.

All he can think of as he watches you writhe beneath him is the word mine. He watches his stunning girlfriend losing her mind at the way his tongue moves. He can't help but stare at the way his girlfriend’s chest rapidly rises and falls as he can see the way her hard nipples stand against the fabric of his top before you use your free hand to tease yourself. You’re all his and Matty forces himself to commit the moment to memory, banking it up for another inevitable lonely tour night when you won't be able to join him.

A breathy and desperate, “Matty, f-fuck,” reaches his ears and, along with your shaking legs and your white knuckle grip on the sheets, it lets him know you’re about to let go. So he hums, encouraging you to give it all to him. And the vibration of it is just what you needed for that tension to snap.

Matty can’t tear his eyes away as you cum on his tongue, your flushed chest heaving as your breaths become messy and your back arches. The taste of you mixed with the sight of you makes him grind his hips harder into his bed, needing that slight bit of stimulation himself.

You come down with a few gasps at the feeling of his tongue still teasing you, sore fingers letting go of the bedding to tug on his curls and pull him away. He looks up, a devilish grin plastered on his face showing he’s proud of what he’s achieved before he dips back down, cleaning up the mess he’s made.

The tight grasp you have on his hair doesn’t deter him, if only it encourages him and you’re left focusing on not making noise instead. You’re biting your tongue so hard just so you don’t make a loud noise but you’re struggling a lot so you just beg, “Matty, please,” as you tug on his locks once more and thankfully he listens.

You pull on his curls until he moves with you and he crawls back up your body. It’s a messy kiss you pull him into, tasting yourself on his tongue has you whining and wanting more of him.

Matty rocks himself into you a few times and the friction of it on your overstimulated clit has you gasping. He’s hard, probably enough for it to begin to be painful, so you break your kiss to ask him, “Do you want me to give you head?”

He kisses you again, his hips grinding against you again, and when you groan he kisses your neck he whispers, “I want to be inside you.”

God, you really want that too, but you know you can’t. “No.” You shake your head.

Matty chuckles, pulling up to ask with a grin of disbelief, as if he can’t feel how wet you’ve already got again through his pants. He teases, “You don’t want to shag me baby?”

He kisses down your neck, bruising his way down your skin drawing short moans out of you as you pull on his hair, wanting him to continue. But then you remember where you are, “Matty, everyone’s gonna hear.”

You only just kept quiet as he was giving you head. You’re going to be absolutely done for if he fucks you too.

“Not if you trust me.” Matty locks eyes with you as he asks, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” You nod, not trusting anyone more than him at this point.

He grins, pulling on your top a little, “Take this off for me then baby.”

You do as you're told and strip off your top as Matty sheds himself of his clothes. He dumps his tie and his shirt where he was previously lay beside you before getting up to pull his pants and underwear down.

Pressing your thighs together when you see just how hard you’ve made your boyfriend is little relief. Matty’s busy gawking at your body though, aching even more than he was without his restrictive clothing. He pumps himself twice, his breath catching as he does but he can’t stop when he looks at you lying on his bed like that.

Your boyfriend goes to move back to the bed but you shake your head, telling him, “Condom.”

“Thought we scrapped those?” He asks with a curious smile.

You tell him sternly, “I’m not having us make a mess and look at your Mum's face as we put the sheets in the wash.”

It almost makes Matty chuckle, instead he just smiles, “Okay baby.” before routing in his bag to find one.

Matty puts it on with ease before he finds his home perched back between your legs. And considering you ‘didn’t want him to fuck you’, he almost finds it comical how desperate you’re looking beneath him right now.

Your boyfriend kisses you deeply again, you can still taste yourself on his tongue and that along with the way he holds your jaw has you moaning against those sinful lips of his.

The kiss only gets messier as it goes, your hands desperately clutching onto him as he presses himself on you. The heaviness of his cock presses and rubs on your clit as his hips move, in a desperate attempt to chase your second orgasm, you move your hips in tune and it just feels too good for your mind to remember you’re supposed to be quiet.

He chuckles against your lips before he pulls away completely, his hips pulling away as well make you whine at the loss of the delicious friction. But you peel your eyes open to see what he’s doing, thinking that he’s doing this to edge you.

You watch as Matty reaches to the side and you see him grab his tie. He wraps it over the knot that's already in it a few times which makes you ask, “What are you doing?”

“Keeping you quiet.” Your boyfriend smirks, “Open.”

Your stomach drops, realising what that means, and you do as you're told. Matty sees the way your eyes get that little bit darker as he puts his tie in your mouth.

When he comes back close to you, pressing himself against you again, he watches your teeth digging into the fabric in your mouth, a moan being muffled by the tie so he smirks seeing that it works.

“Good girl.” Matty praises you, leaning in to have his face hover above yours and watch every little detail on your face as he finally goes to fill you up.

His right hand goes down to guide himself to your centre, teasing your clit by rubbing it with the tip of his cock which elicits a mewl that’s drowned by the fabric on your mouth. He’s enjoying it far too much, the visual of you gagged underneath him and almost desperate to have him inside you makes Matty impossibly hard.

Slowly he stretches you out, biting on his bottom lip as he goes further and when he feels your nails scratching his back as he bottoms out, Matty grabs your arms and pins your wrists over your head. He crosses them so he can keep them in place with his left hand but before he starts moving, he asks for confirmation that you’re not uncomfortable with what he’s just done, “This okay baby?”

Your hasty nodding is entirely amusing to him, he loves seeing you surrendered to him like this. He pulls his hips back the furthest he can without completely exiting you and in a strong swift movement, he bottoms out again.

Slow and hard, that’s the pace he sets and it has your eyes rolling back in pleasure. You had never been gagged before but you find yourself really enjoying it, the thrill of having to have your mouth stuffed with his tie not to get caught has you even more turned on. And adding your hands being pinned over your head as your boyfriend pounds into you, is enough to have you a mess of muffled moans and whines.

Just thinking of the situation has you clenching hard around him and he doesn’t let it go unnoticed, “Oh you like this?” Matty smirks, “Such a whore, aren’t you?”

He feels your thighs tighten around his hips, clearly enjoying being called a whore and it makes his smirk more prominent. His eyes are full of lust as he asks, “Just want me to ruin you, is that right?”

Nodding desperately, you need everything from him now. Your hips buck at him when he does that and you whine a little on the material keeping you quiet. Matty kisses your neck a few times then, and you can feel his smirk, clearly loving having you exactly at his mercy. And you can’t even pretend you’re not loving it either.

“Fuck baby.” Your boyfriend heavily breathes, his eyes darkening that little bit more feeling just how tight you are wrapped around him. “You look so good. Feel fucking amazing.”

He fucks into you mercilessly, quickly finding the angle that has you almost thrashing beneath him and he knows he’s found your g spot. You can’t even meet his thrusts anymore, the knot of pleasure in your lower stomach is almost too much and the blinding heat that stirs inside you has you biting hard on his tie.

Your eyes screw shut and head throws back further into the pillow as he continues whispering vulgar things about how he loves having you like this into your ear and teasing you about just how much you’re enjoying it.

“Come on baby, I can feel you’re close. Cum for me.” Matty says as he kisses just under your ear, biting your earlobe and dragging between his teeth before sucking on the part of your neck that he knows makes you weak. “Please baby, be a good girl and let go for me.”

And it doesn’t take much more than the promise of praise and his hips meeting yours over and over to have you finishing. It hits you and it’s like a blinding white heat runs up your body and takes over your senses.

Matty watches you orgasm beneath him, entirely awestruck at the way you lose yourself. It’s lucky he gagged you because you moan loudly as your high takes over and he can only manage a few more thrusts with how tightly you’re clenching around him.

It’s only seconds before he cums too, filling the condom and moaning down your ear which adds to your own orgasm tenfold. He fucks into you a few more times to drag out the pleasure running through you both before he slows and settles himself, freeing your wrists and pulling his tie from your mouth as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

Your arms fall down over his shoulders, entirely weak just like your body feels but you let your fingers run back into his hair when he lifts himself back up looking at you like he’s drunk. You giggle a little before you kiss him and it’s the sweetest sensation after being fucked by him.

Matty grins when he pulls away, and you giggle at each other before Matty leans down and gives you a little eskimo kiss, before again admitting, “I’m obsessed with you.”

Your heart is so full, you don't even hesitate to say back, “Obsessed with you too baby.”

Matty blushes at that which makes you giggle again and you pull on his hair so he comes back for one last kiss. After that you both decide a shower is in order and as Matty disposes of the condom and goes and grabs the both of you a towel, he embarrasses you.

“We’ll have to sneak out tomorrow morning.” He tells you with a small grin on his face.

You ask curiously, “Why?”

“Because that tie did nothing, you were so loud.” Matty tells you, his smile full now.

Your jaw drops at that, thinking back over it and you frown, “No I wasn’t.”

He starts chuckling, disagreeing with you in jest, “So loud baby.”

He just wants to make you sweat a little. You were fine and he knows for certain no one will have heard anything, he just loves getting you flustered.

“I wasn’t, you cheeky sod.” You whine trying your best not to smile and fake annoyance. You pick his tie up and throw it at him as you say, “You’re not all that Healy.”

He laughs, batting the tie away with ease but he tilts his head and narrows his eyes a little, “You say that, but I just gave you two orgasms.”

“And?” You shake your head, letting him know he isn’t god's gift, “So does my vibrator.”

Matty can’t help but think touche, but he opts to tease you instead, “And that's a show I’d definitely like to watch one day.”

Instantly, your face flames and you start glitching. You stumble trying to come up with some backchat but no coherent words form and the moment for you to be slick passes, so you just end up waving for him to leave, “Go and get me a towel, you twat.”

Matty cackles as he leaves the room doing as he's told. Before the both of you know it, you’re in the shower together and even though it should be steamy and hot, it’s probably one of the cutest things either of you have done together.

You’re both giggling and then catching yourselves, mostly you shushing the both of you, as you don’t want to be found out. But despite the both of you not making it interesting in a sinful way, you end up washing the other's hair.

It started with you shampooing his hair, and when it foamed up and his hair went stiff you couldn’t help but giggle when you morphed it into a mohawk. You joke about him looking good until he threatens to cut his curls to bring his mohawk back and you decline his offer with a look that screamed that you would kill him if he did. You tell him not to touch those curls of his.

And when you carry on giggling as you mould his hair into different shapes before you let him rinse it out, Matty can’t help but get a little in his head about everything as he admires you and giggles along.

If society didn’t deem that the two of you were far too early on in your relationship, Matty would get on one knee here and now and properly propose to you because he just genuinely can’t think of anyone better for him. You’re perfect, and the fact you get on like you’ve forever been the best of friends but also have an amazing relationship is the entire package for him.

It might be far too soon, but when you know you know. And Matty has never felt this way so intensely about someone for such a long time, he’d forgotten how it felt to crumble down inside at the sight of someone he felt so much for just existing. The world feels better and brighter when you’re in his presence and you make his heart ache in a way he now knows he’d missed.

After a shower filled with cute kisses, longing touches, and lots of giggles, the both of you get out and head back to his room to dry off. Even when you put his top back on and both get cosy in bed together and you’re just chatting about where he’s going to show you tomorrow, he just holds you close, thanking his lucky stars you came into his life.

Falling asleep to the sound of the other’s voice promises smiles that stay on your faces for a bit until your slumber switches them into pouts, your arms wrapped around each other and fingers clutching tight as if there was a possibility of one of you evaporating if you dared let your hold run loose, legs tangled together and heavy breaths hitting each other’s skin.

Your heart grows in size when you’re in Matty’s arms and you know just how fast and hard you’re falling for him when your brain deems it not enough to have him present daily in front of you, by your side, for he materialises in your dreams and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Even in your sleep-driven imaginative scenes he manages to make you a mess of grins that reach your eyes, rumble of butterflies filling your stomach, tingling going to every inch of your body.

And waking up, finding him there still, with his curls a mess over the pillow and those lips you love to kiss up in a pout as he continues to breathe slowly in his sleep, makes you almost feel like you’ve somehow managed to hit the jackpot you’ve silently been praying for your whole life.

To find the one.

And you think you’ve found him. You really hope you have.

~*~*~*~

Being shown around the infamous Wilmslow by your boyfriend was one of the highlights of the whole tour for you. You had such a good time, you already can’t wait to go back for a proper stay there.

The both of you slept in a little that morning, coming downstairs to greet everyone else at 11:30 which after your late night it didn’t seem to surprise anyone. Thankfully it seems no one caught on to what happened in Matty’s childhood bedroom because nothing was said and there was no knowing glances or anything.

You all had a cooked breakfast that Denise and Lincoln made which acted as a lovely brunch, satisfying your hunger for most of your day out. After you all finished your meal and chatting, Matty decided he was showing you around for the day which you were more than happy with.

Denise throwing her suggestions in for where to take you really made you giggle, Matty sighing at a few of them as he was already going to take you there but she apparently ruined the surprise. But you loved that she told him to take you to where he used to work because that did give you a giggle.

Matty gave you the bigger tour first, opting to take the car to show you his and the boys' old high school and he told you so many stories about the shit they all got up to back in the day. You would pay so much money to be a fly on the wall back then and experience it like a film playing out to you.

He showed you his old house that he lived in before he was a teenager, and on the drive he pointed out the other boys' childhood homes, telling you Adam’s house felt like a second home to him and that his Mum, Sue, always felt like his second Mum.

Your journey ends with him taking you to Carrs park where the both of you have a nice long walk together, sharing stories and walking hand in hand as you find out more about each other. Matty tells you of the summers that he and the boys used to come down to the park all the time and on hot days they would mess about in the river.

He tells you about when Flo would come over for summers to stay with Adam in Manchester instead of staying in Sheffield, and about how she apparently always preferred her Aunt and Uncle’s home over her own. That he taught her how to skateboard at the skate park that was also in the park which he showed you and you made him promise that in the summer he would bring you back and show you his skills.

You both walk around the park for just over an hour before you head back to the car, and Matty continues with his tour. This time he parks up just off Wilmslow highstreet and you walk down with him.

He shows you The Rex cinema which if you both had more time here he would have taken you to see a film but he promises to bring you back for a date night. To make up for it, he takes you a few doors further down and buys you a few cocktails in Revs, your favourite being the Mean Girl one that comes with a post-it note pegged onto the glass that says ‘So Fetch’.

Matty ends up having a few drinks too and it’s only after you’ve both had two cocktails and 3 flavoured shots each that he realises you both drove here. Thankfully that gets quickly resolved by him phoning his brother and he promises Louis that if he comes to drive you both back, he will buy him a bottle of vodka and pay for his taxi from home to the car later.

Whilst in Revs, you spot a photobooth and after how cute the last ones were, you can’t resist doing another one. These pictures turn out to be extremely coupley, but you blame that on being tipsy and loving your boyfriend's lips on your own. The print was black and white and the camera captured your kisses, giggles, and funny faces and you download the digital version instantly so you can put the cutest one as your lock screen.

You go on your merry way after another few drinks, Matty walking you further up the highstreet to the big Sainsburys so he can get his brother's alcohol and you can’t help but giggle at the mere sight of it. Even more so now because you’re tipsy.

Matty already knows why you’re laughing, but when you ask him, “Is this the Sainsburys?” and he confirms it is the Sainsburys, you get so excited. As if him mentioning the supermarket in a song makes it a landmark you have to see.

You make him giggle though when you run off in front of him in the shop and only when he catches you up and you scorn him does he understand what you were doing. It’s when you tell him, “No, pretend you don't know me and come flirt with me.” that he can’t stop giggling.

The fact that you’ve gone hours without food meant the alcohol has gotten to you and your tipsy state is hilarious to him. The fact you want to be a girl he flirts with in a Sainsburys is all the more wholesome to him though, at least this time he knows he will have an effect on you because it’s so easy to make you putty in his hands.

He does the little roleplay you desired and he loves the way you’re grinning at him, even though the pick up line he used was utter shit, he can tell you’re all flustered. And you only get worse when he breaks the charade and whispers other explicit things in your ear of what he would like to do to and with you and you have to push him away from you, the proximity too much to bear when he gets you too embarrassed and worked up.

You can just about look at him again when you leave the supermarket and he grabs you hand as he continues to show you the last few things on his tour of his home. He walks you back down the highstreet, this time on the other side of the road to let you have a nosy at the shops, before walking straight over the road.

He takes you to his Caffe Nero where he used to work and the both of you get a coffee, in hopes to make the both of you less tipsy, before he walks you down to the Chinese he used to work at as a delivery driver. After a quick conversation, you and Matty decide you want something from there for your dinner, so he quickly phones his family to see if they want anything too.

Turns out they do, and after placing a big order with them, Louis comes and meets you to drive the both of you back to their home and you all have a big family meal. The vodka that was bought is cracked open almost immediately and the three of you end up having drinks together while Denise and Lincoln make themselves a mocktail pitcher to share as you all chat about everything and nothing.

Never have you felt so at ease in the presence of your partner's family, especially the first real time you’ve spent with any of them. Maybe it’s because they're northern, or maybe it is just because they are fantastic people but you’ve never felt so welcome in your life and you’re so thankful for them.

You even get told funny stories about when Matty was little, and your favourite anecdote about him is that when he was really little he had a lisp. You start teasing him and saying odd words mocking a lisp and your boyfriend pretends to be unamused, but it gets even funnier when you and Louis start doing it together. Denise and Lincoln cackled as Matty was getting more and more annoyed, but thankfully a kiss to the cheek appeased him when you got up to get you both another drink.

The family's kindness really makes you not want to leave, and you really will reluctantly do so tomorrow morning. Even more so when Denise hugs you so tightly before she heads up to bed and she thanks you for coming to stay and for such a lovely evening, and she makes you almost tear up when she tells you how much of a good fit she thinks you are for her son and how welcome you are to their family.

She calls you the daughter she never had and it makes you get a little lump in your throat and you just squeeze her tighter before thanking her again for being so hospitable to you. You’ve had such a good time, you drag the night out, trying to stop yourself from getting tired even when you and Matty head back upstairs to bed.

Matty knows what you’re doing and he finds it adorable but he reminds you that you’re too much of a Grandma to try and stay up late for two nights on the trot. As soon as he gets you changed into his top and your head hits his pillows, your eyes close and Matty laughs at the effort it seems to be taking you to reopen them.

So you don’t have to, Matty just sheds off his clothes down to his underwear and he gets in bed beside you after flicking the lamp off, but he practically lays on top of you wanting you to cuddle him. Even when you're falling asleep you don’t fail to root your fingers into his curls and you hum in satisfaction as you play with his hair for a few minutes, but as soon as you stop scratching his scalp, he knows you’re asleep.

But he doesn’t follow you, instead he stays up for a little while longer and he moves back just a little so his eyes can go over every inch of your face. He wills himself to learn every detail of your face by heart, almost counting the freckles scattered on your skin as if that was a piece of information he had to live by, as if he had to look for constellations in the sky that resembled them as closely as possible just so he could feel you near when he eventually goes away.

Matty doesn’t realise he’s brought his hand up to your face until you squirm under the touch of his fingers grazing your cheekbones softly. He stills at your sudden movement but his smile grows on his face when you end up humming, like you're encouraging him to continue as you fall deeper into your slumber.

Your growing warmth beneath him and the sound of your hums lull him to sleep, blissfully pressing his head on the pillow after he’s dropped a soft kiss on the tip of your nose and trying his hardest to continue looking at your gorgeous sleepy face for as long as his tired eyes allow him.

Even when his eyes manage to close and it’s too hard to peel them open again, he can see you burned into his eyelids and on the forefront of his mind is every moment he’s gotten to share with you today and these past few days of tour.

Selfishly, he wishes for them to never end. If there’s one thing he would do anything to have is you beside him all the time.

Please, he says in his head and he hopes whoever can grant him that wish is listening.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next tour stop is Nottingham and driving down there after being in the lads’ hometown is enlightening. It seems like being in their hometown, even if it’s just for a day, fills them up with a surge of energy that had been wearing down throughout the past few months they’ve spent on the road.

So of course, the time it takes you to get there is spent between them all going about the lounge taking the piss at each other and smoking, fighting over the most mundane opinions and even over a chocolate bar they found hidden away in the shelves.

The argument of who deserves to have the chocolate has been going on for over 10 minutes, everyone proposing their reasoning and it is growing more and more ridiculous by the minute. They keep making fun of each other's excuses and loudly counter proposing something that backs themselves up.

“It’s just chocolate, break it into pieces for everyone to have some.” Adam sighs in response to the bickering that keeps growing in volume which mixed with the few hours of sleep he’s had, is threatening to cause him a headache.

“No, that’s not fun.” Ross scowls at him like he’s a buzzkill for being the voice of reason in this debate. Instead, a cruel and fun way to get people to fight over the last chocolate comes to his mind and he smirks as his gaze sweeps everyone in the room. “Who has the saddest story?”

George’s huff in annoyance is loud and it makes you think that this is definitely not the first time a play like this has come about to settle an argument. Still, you frown and ask, “What?” confused at the random prompt.

But your boyfriend answers before Ross can, “It's a game we play, we give a different condition for a story each time to see who wins what we’re short of. This time the saddest story wins the chocolate.”

Your hesitant nod seems to be the only confirmation Ross needed, as if you were the one calling the shots this time to he places the chocolate back inside the cupboard and sits back in the booth to close call out who’s staring with their anecdote.

The first to go is George who talks about how his childhood dog died and though you find it tragic, the guys just roll their eyes and ask for the next one because they’d heard it way too many times before.

The rest of the band follows along, Adam refusing to participate because he finds it pointless and Matty skipping just because he’s fine being a spectator. Polly’s anecdote makes you pout as you listen to her and you end up giving her a little hand squeeze when she’s done. And then it’s your turn.

“Y/N?” Ross raises his eyebrows at you, a challenging look as if he’s entirely sure you don’t stand a chance to win this.

But you surprise him when you straighten in your seat, roll your shoulders and sigh heavily to prepare yourself mentally, knowing you’re so taking the chocolate for yourself.

“I’m playing to win this, okay?” Is your hint of a warning of what’s to come but no one really takes it that seriously.

“Oh go on then, doubt you can beat Polly’s.” Matty taunts this time, a giggle almost weaving through his words.

You shrug, not really giving into the teasing of his words and you start your story, “Okay so this was about five years ago, I was at a party of sorts with my ex. For context I was with him for over three years, we were really happy and I loved this person right.” You almost laugh at the memory, just because of how pathetic it had made you feel for so long until you realised you were far better off.

Clearing your throat, you continue, “Then we go to this party but it's just like at his mates house and we're all there chatting outside around the fire pit and then the question gets asked, ‘where do you see yourself in twenty years’ so each of us go round answering. Everyone mentions kids, marriage, dream jobs, blah blah blah…”

You wave your hand to diminish the importance of what was said and they watch as the corners of your lips twitch in amusement, “So I go and I say everything I hope for, that I want to be happy, have my own house which I share with the person I love, as I'm holding hands with my ex.” Your eyes catch everyone looking attentively at you, waiting for you to continue, “Whatever, I carry on talking about having my own family and everyone is smiling and loving my answer but then my ex has his go.”

You take a deep breath before you go on with the worst part of your anecdote, “My ex said, ‘In twenty years I think I'm still going to be trying to find the girl of my dreams’.”

At that, you hear everyone gasping and when you let your eyes go up to see the group of people around you, you catch a few with their hands covering their mouths and a few just freely letting you see they’re jaw dropped.

What you don’t get to see is the way your boyfriend’s face has fallen completely, his heart sinking to the deepest pit of his stomach and he genuinely feels sick knowing someone had the audacity to say that. It feels like something clicks as to why you were so insecure when it came to you thinking he was ‘settling’ for you after hearing that.

But you’re not quite done yet, chuckling a bit at their reactions, you brush a strand of hair behind your ear and add, “And he didn't just leave it there. He went on to elaborate on what he was looking for. And just like all of you, all of his friends went deadly silent and were just looking at the two of us. I went entirely numb for a minute, but in that time I somehow managed to say, ‘hope you find her’ in the most monotone voice and got up and left.”

A few beats of silence pass, everyone too astounded to even find out what was correct to say in such a situation.

Until Ross breaks it with a simple, “That’s fucking brutal.” which makes you snort out in laughter.

“I know. Can I have that chocolate now?” You extend your hand out for him to give you the prize, you know no one will dare to disagree that your story was the saddest.

And he nods, “Absolutely, fucking hell.”

You watch as the bassist gets the chocolate from the cupboard and gives it to you, and after thanking him softly, you notice the way everyone is still silent, so you turn to them and call them out for it, “Okay, everyone lighten up, it’s been a while since then.”

Thankfully the mood lightens after you win their game, things move on when people get various phone calls and you start concentrating on your phones and what’s on the TV again. Your past doesn’t plague your mind in the slightest as you’ve already buried that away with a nice little bow of trauma securing it away, and you have no intention of letting it get you upset any longer than it did a few years back. It was most definitely his loss anyway and you’re doing miles better for yourself these days.

You move on quite quickly, forgetting about it minutes after everyone went back to normal and you were more sidetracked with baby Hann and the chats you were having with Carly. But Matty couldn’t get it out of his head.

He found that his heart still felt like it had been beaten to a pulp for you. It hurt him a lot hearing how someone who you let yourself be vulnerable with and who you opened your heart to, said something so awful and completely disregarded your relationship like it was nothing.

God knows if someone said that to him it would never not plague his thoughts or have a permanent sinking feeling in his chest. He can’t help but think just how strong you are to have got through something like that and to be as happy and bubbly as you are now.

Since meeting you and getting to know you properly, Matty has always found himself incredibly lucky to easily make you smile or laugh that he can’t imagine ever saying anything so horrible to you. It makes him want to cherish you even more, to protect you from anyone who could be so cruel and hold you closer and tighter than ever.

Which is what he ended up doing. He didn’t bring it up until you were alone that night in the back lounge of the bus just after the last few others had disappeared off to bed.

You’d not long since had a call with Amelia and your manager that started off as business related and as soon as your manager bid you goodbye, you had a good catch up with your best friend. You’ve probably not gone this long without seeing her for a while and you were both getting withdrawal symptoms so you definitely enjoyed your chat with her.

You were equally excited to get back to the fun conversations that always filled the bus, but you weren’t surprised that it was only George and Matty that were coherently talking when you went back to socialise. Turns out you’d been chatting to your best friend for the best part of 3 hours and it was nearing 11pm and with it being an off day everyone was lazy and heading to bed early which you don’t blame them for.

This tour and your boyfriend have really fucked with your sleeping pattern, a month ago you would be tired at this time but now you rarely get tired until 2am. But it meant more time being in Matty’s presence and cuddling up to him awake in his bunk where you talk about anything that comes to mind until you eventually drift off so you don’t mind in the slightest.

Even now after George has just headed off to bed, you just find yourself relaxing in your boyfriends hold that little bit more as you pay attention to the BBC Three show that’s playing silently on the TV. Or that is until your boyfriend gets your attention again.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” Matty whispers in your ear, a kiss being pressed on your cheek right after and his fingers clutching your waist tightly like you could be taken away from him if he wasn’t cautious.

You let your head rest on his shoulder so you can look up at him and in slight confusion, you ask him, “What?”

“With your ex. I’m sorry he did that. It was awful to hear and that’s not a par on what it must’ve felt like.” His fingers rub circles on your waist, under your shirt so his touch is warm and soothing on your skin.

Turning in his hold, your arms go around his shoulder and your fingers play with the short curls at the nape of his neck as you shake your head, “Oh no, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay at all.” His eyes are wide, there’s no way he’ll ever come to terms with the fact that you had to go through something like that.

You sigh a bit heavily, because you know he’s right but it’s been so long since then and it has led you to where you are now so you have no complaints. Your nails scratch softly at his scalp, “I know, but I’m glad with the way everything has worked out.”

Softly, like he’s scared it will set something off that you won’t like, Matty asks, “Was he the guy who you last went out with?”

You nod, “He was the last guy, yeah. I met a girl a year after and we were together about eight months but she kept getting jealous of the dates I was going on and the flirting yet she also wanted me to take her to the dates with me so she could meet the celebs and it all just ended in a big argument so I just decided I was done.” His face is screwed up in a frown that lets you know how he finds that, and you give him a side smile as if agreeing on how bad that was.

“Everyone after her has been one night things which were hit and miss but I’d convinced myself I was better off alone anyway.” It’s easy for you to be honest about this all with him, so you continue, “No one was gonna get it and I’d sort of come to terms with the fact that I wasn’t going to find anything again.” and it’s even easier to let him know how it all changed, “Until you.”

You feel his fingers digging into the flesh of your waist as he breathlessly asks, “Me?”

And a giggle escapes you when you reassure that’s exactly what you meant, “Yeah, you.”

“What changed?” One of his hands comes up to lift your chin up slightly, fingertips slowly dragging down your jaw and the softness of his touch makes you lean into it.

“Well for a start I was never going to turn down another date with you.” Your lips purse as you try not to smile embarrassedly at your admission, “But then you came round to mine and you were the sweetest. You hugged me when I got upset at your album, you came round and surprised me and bought me a Christmas present.”

Your heart swells in your chest as you remember, your eyes stay on his and you find yourself wanting to forever be under his gaze because it just has goosebumps erupting on your skin, heat rising up to your cheeks and a tingling hitting every corner of your being, “You make me nervous, and I’ve not felt nervous talking to someone in the longest time, I missed that.”

There’s a need to clear up your words when you realise it could come across wrongly, “But I wasn’t nervous because you’re the lead singer of my favourite band. I was nervous because of you.” His delicate smile reaches his eyes, those crinkles you’ve grown to love showing just how happy your words are making him and he continues his delicate tracing of your features as you add, “The things you do when you talk to me, when you smile at me or smirk at me. You make me the best kind of nervous.”

His thumb teasingly runs across your bottom lip, your breath hitches in your throat and you hold it there until his finger runs down to press on your chin softly, “I still make you nervous?”

“All the time.” It comes out in a whisper but it’s wholehearted because it’s the actual truth, “I love it when you’re not actively trying to make me flustered.” That’s a bit of a white lie, because you do love it when he teases you even though he makes it so hard for you not to be embarrassed by it in public.

Matty pouts slightly, “But seeing you flustered is how I know it’s all working.”

He makes himself sound so innocent like that, you roll your eyes in fake annoyance, “Yeah, yeah. You just love watching me squirm, I know.”

And then that smirk you love breaks on his face and it all comes together when he chats back, “Love watching you do more than squirm.”

It makes you so incredibly giddy, he can definitely feel the heat growing on your face at his words, “Yeah I sure know you do, you little shit.” You narrow your eyes, an attempt to appear menacing.

He snickers at your effort, offering you an eye roll and a sassy, “Oh but you love it.” as a response.

“I do.” You catch your bottom lip between your teeth as you agree. There’s no need to keep anything to yourself anymore, you think, and how liberating is it that you can just cup his face and pull him in for a sweet kiss to show him just how much you adore him.

Your tongue teases his bottom lip and he lets your tongues meet without a second of doubt, he hums when he tastes you and you hum back to let him know how much you enjoy this. It is so easy letting time pass when your lips are moving with each other, your fingers clutching each other tightly and oxygen be damned for your one priority is showing what you feel through your kiss.

You pull back panting when you can no longer kiss without feeling like you’re gonna pass out from lack of oxygen in your lungs and he takes the opportunity to bring back what started it all, “I’m sorry he made you feel like you weren’t enough.”

“Thank you for making me feel like I am.” Your head tilts as you say, doe eyes almost sparkling at him like a love sick puppy for him.

You swear it was impossible to feel stronger for him until he nudges your nose with his and your lips brush together as he says, “You’re more than enough, baby. I’m the luckiest to have you.”

All you can do is press your lips against his but before you can deepen the kiss, you’re pulling back enough to look at him deep in the eyes and let him know once again, “Obsessed with you.”

Matty experiences something new every minute he spends with you, he swears, because it’s so incredible the way his heart easily swells in his chest with everything you do and say. It’s so easy for him to reciprocate, almost painful to keep it in that he’s, “Obsessed with you too.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

The Nottingham show was nothing short of incredible. As per usual the boys gave their absolute best and delivered a gig that you know for a fact people wouldn’t forget (you know the feeling far too well of wanting to go back in time to experience their shows over and over again throughout the years) and Matty’s interactions with the audience made you laugh as per usual. Especially when he gave them four songs to choose from and even after Paris lost to Menswear, he decided to still play Paris after it.

Your note being, I certainly like you better when you take off your clothes ;) x that night assured that he went absolutely unhinged for you on stage during Too Shy. You found yourself sweating at his intent hip movements as his eyes swam through the crowd in search of you, winking your way when he found you and you had to hide behind your hands all flustered while the girls around you squealed, entirely unaware of your presence and thinking it was meant for them.

Leeds comes next and you have the best time too, especially when he opens your note and cackles loudly when he reads, Drive Like I Do, when? instead of a cute note like he had been expecting.

He surprises you when Robbers comes on and he sings the climax of the song in the style of the Drive Like I Do version of the song. You scream so loud at that, joining the crowd's cheers and when the next song starts, you’re left feeling all gooey inside at the fact that the littlest things you can mention will end up in him trying to appease your wishes.

Newcastle is entirely shocking to you. You were excited to be there, especially since Matty mentioned Tim would be attending and you’d finally be able to meet him, but you’re absolutely not ready for the surprise you got once you got to the venue.

It had been slightly hectic, since people were swarming the place so you had to sneak into the venue almost being shielded by George and Ross’ big frames as you hid in a massive hoodie and some glasses to try and keep your identity hidden.

You find yourself shaking in anticipation as you’re walking between George and Ross on your way to the greenroom, trying to have a pep talk in your mind so that you calm yourself down about the prospect of meeting your boyfriend’s Dad.

Of course the lads caught onto your shaking hands that you were wiping on top of your hoodie, Ross teased you for being nervous but George assured you it’d be alright. So you settle a bit, slowly coming to terms with it and preparing yourself to offer Tim a smile as soon as you step through the door of the greenroom.

But when you get there and see that Lewis fucking Capaldi is there, you can’t help but let out a squeal of excitement. The Scottish legend who in a few months you know you already have a date booked in with, makes you so excited. You run to hug him hello and he’s equally excited to see you there.

Tim makes you cackle when he says, “I’ll be offended if I don’t get hugged just as enthusiastically.” behind you and you let go of Lewis to greet the comedic legend. You’re glad your reaction to Lewis’ presence served as an ice breaker because then the conversation with Matty’s Dad flows easily and you find yourself laughing at the fact that you were so nervous about meeting him when he’s an absolute sweetheart.

Spending the day in Lewis’ company is as funny as you could’ve imagined and the filming of him taking the piss out of what Matty does on stage makes you cackle laughing. Thankfully with the other singer distracting your boyfriend, you could easily sneak your note into his pocket today, and you felt quite proud of that one.

That night you stay back behind the stage to watch the show (the crew gave you some in-ears so you could still hear everything the way that you would if you were in the main bit of the arena). Tonight your note was Obsessed with you and everything but Newcastle aren’t winning the cup baby xoxoxo and when the camera shows Matty snorting at it and shaking his head, pocketting it again before grabbing his acoustic guitar, it made you giggle and when Lewis asked you about it and you told him, he started laughing too.

This had all come about because like George had been roped into supporting Newcastle United by his best friend, you had been dragged in to support Manchester United because that’s Amelia’s football team. Yesterday was the first leg of Newcastle's semi-final in the Carabao Cup which you all watched and you were happy for Matty that they won 1-0, but tonight was Manchester United’s first semi-final match and you had a good feeling your team was going to win. Regardless though, you did think that you would end up playing your boyfriend’s team in the final, and you can’t let him get too comfortable so you kept teasing him yesterday saying regardless of if they win, Manchester United will beat Newcastle.

The show moved on quickly, and it wasn’t a surprise that you started tearing up when Tim goes on stage to sing All I Need To Hear and you’re glad you’re right next to Lewis because he makes you laugh when he makes a joke about how the band would be more successful if Tim replaced Matty.

When it’s time for Lewis to go on stage, you’re left alone until your boyfriend surprises you with his presence after he quickly got changed and the rest of the band tagged along so you all could watch Lewis together.

Of course you lot piss yourselves laughing when people go absolutely mad when the text Special guest: Harry Styles comes on the screen and then it only grows louder once the door opens, but to their disappointment it’s not the Watermelon singing man.

Lewis makes it funnier when he waves at everyone, laughter can be heard from the crowd and it grows louder when he walks up to the mic and says, “My name is Harry Styles and it’s good to be here. I know what you’re thinking; ‘He looks different. He sounds different’.” And with one last adjusting of his guitar strap, he adds, “But make no mistake I am Harry Styles.”

But your amusement dies in your throat in a split second when he starts strumming on his guitar and he starts a song you have been dying to hear for far too long.

If anyone told you a few months ago that you’d be hearing Antichrist be performed live at a The 1975 concert for the first time by Lewis Capaldi, you would’ve thought it to be the most far-fetched joke anyone could come up with. But here you were, already crying at Lewis singing the first line to a song you’ve waited so long to hear in concert.

Matty doesn’t realise how bad your state is until Lewis sings, “Is it the same for you?” and you shake with the sob that rips through you. The visuals on the big screens were making him laugh and he assumed your soft shaking was just a product of your laughter, the sound being drowned by the loudness of the crowd singing along. He’s entirely taken aback by your reaction and in instinct he wraps his arms around you from behind you.

He hears you tearfully but softly singing the next verse but you fully let your broken voice rumble with the crowd for the third verse.

The buildup to the bridge starts and they lads take a few seconds of silence to clock onto your state and giggle. They didn’t expect you to have such a reaction to Lewis singing the song, and Ross is a cheeky bitch so he points it out.

“This is exactly why we’re never doing this song.” If you’re crying this hard then the bassist wouldn’t want to imagine how badly the people in the crowd were looking.

You don’t even allow yourself to form a proper answer and instead you let the song dramatically reply to him. You point your finger at him and George who is right beside him and belt out the bridge almost entirely enraged at what he’s just had the cheek to say.

But that doesn’t appear menacing to them, George and Ross laugh and you can feel Matty’s chest shaking with laughter behind you. Even Adam was giggling away at your emotion and it was only making you sob harder as you sang. You don’t even have the mind to think about how embarrassing this might be when you look back because you’re completely overcome by emotion.

They’re not done taking the piss out of you when the song is over, and you’re left shaking your head at their jokes whilst you wipe the tears off your face, Matty’s lips pressing kisses to your neck and shoulder but you feel his breath hit your skin whenever he laughs at any of the guys’ quips.

Lewis announcing, “I was going to sing one of my songs next, but I thought it would just be better to play a Taylor Swift song.” has you gasping way too loud, interrupting another joke Ross was about to make at your expense but your reaction to the Scots’ introduction of the second song is enough to earn you a round of cackles.

George is louder this time and his giggles are so contagious you find yourself laughing with them, that is until Lewis starts singing the Taylor song you’ve loved so much since you were a teenager and the waterworks start again.

It is all such a mix of emotions, you can’t help the tears streaming down your face. It’s the song being played right after Antichrist, it’s the feeling of Matty’s arms wrapped tightly around you and how he sings it softly to you in your ear. You’re purposely keeping your volume to a decent point so you can hear your boyfriend singing it to you.

If he wasn’t holding you, you would’ve melted and died on the spot. Your legs feel wobbly from the crazy storm of butterflies fluttering inside your stomach and there’s a burning heat that runs through your veins that melts your insides.

“You alright baby?” Matty asks you softly when the song is over, brows furrowed as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

You nod softly, just letting your tears run down your cheeks until they stop but he’s on the task in a matter of seconds. He stands before you, hands cupping your jaw and thumbs swiping at the tears staining your skin.

Through his in-ears he hears they gotta go back on stage in a minute but before he rushes back with the lads, Matty showers your face with pecks. When he reaches your lips though, he can’t help himself and locks your lips in a sweet kiss, one that lasts longer than needed because George is yelling at him they need to go and so is the crew member talking in his in-ears again.

You pull back and push him softly so he can go, and just because you’re feeling better and in a jokey mood now, you give his arse a slap before he’s gone from your side. He looks back at you with a smirk, right as he gets to the door and winks at you. You’re left smiling like an idiot, waiting for the show to continue.

Lewis teases you throughout the rest of the show, at first for crying at what he did but then when Matty did something like wink into the camera or thrust at the audience. The Scot was a big tease and whilst you pretended to hate him for it, you had such a fun evening singing along to the boys with him.

Unfortunately, with there being a show the following day in Liverpool and Lewis heading back out on tour, you couldn’t go out and have a few drinks together that night. But you all bid him goodbye, you give him a hug and tell him that you and Amelia will be seeing him soon.

It felt bittersweet saying goodbye to Tim, but he told you that you had to come back up to Newcastle with Matty as soon as you were free to and he would happily show you around the city properly. Before you even know it, you’re back on the road.

You passed out pretty much as soon as you got on the bus and Matty found you in the bunk fast asleep about 5 minutes after you said you were heading to bed. Just before he climbed in to join you, he pressed a sweet kiss to your lips hoping not to wake you and he was grateful he didn’t disturb you when he cuddled himself into you and slowly fell asleep himself.

Waking up outside the arena in Liverpool was an interesting ordeal. There wasn’t a gated section where the buses could go here so when you and Matty woke up and were hoping to head out for a walk, it was a little difficult because there were fans outside.

So a little plan was devised to combat this, and it was orchestrated and quite literally carried out by George. The drummer suggested that you wrap up in a hoodie and have the hood up and that he would carry you out and into the venue, and people would automatically assume you were Charli and that you were asleep.

The queen of pop had gone back home to London after the Manchester show, along with Carly too but no one but those of you on the tour knew that. So George carrying a girl into the arena seemed like a perfect way to get you in unseen and keep your relationship underwraps.

There was an alternative, that Ross carry you inside in the same way, but as soon as you made a joke of that's a good way of socialising with him more, Matty chipped in quickly and cut that idea off. So it was Matty’s jealousy that decided that you would be carried the 10 metres into the venue by George.

And thankfully it went fine and there were a few fans who made a fuss but George just smiled and kept walking with you in his arms. Your legs were around his waist and your arms wrapped around his shoulders and you hid yourself away into his neck until the metal doors closed.

Once they did, you looked up at George and grinned, he laughed at your grin and smiled back. You couldn’t not tell him as you were in his arms though, “You smell really good.”

“Thanks babe.” The drummer winks, resulting in you immediately becoming flustered.

Matty heard and saw all this, so with a brief look of jealousy and distaste, he nudged his best friend, indicating to put you down. However, the drummer instead smirked, “Nah, she’s mine now mate.”

If that didn’t have you internally choking, the drummer moving his hands to your arse for the briefest few seconds to tease his best mate did. You’re winning at life well and truly, you’re certain you’ll die a happy woman.

After that, George let you return to your feet and you and Matty went about your day. It was quite early and both of you didn’t sleep well really despite falling asleep quickly. The bunk was definitely beginning to get uncomfortable now, so you’re certainly excited to be getting closer to being back in a proper bed.

Matty however, thought ahead and booked the two of you a day room at a nearby hotel which you both walked to after you had a sneaky walk around the docks, thankfully not being recognised by anyone. The room was stunning, and not even because it was fancy, it was just because after not sleeping in a proper bedroom since you were in Manchester it felt like a luxury.

A luxury which both you and Matty tarnished completely because you both did more than sleep in the bed and made most of the time you had alone with no need to worry about being quiet. You both napped after you wore each other out but then you both showered together which ended with both of you on your knees one after another.

After checking out and getting a taxi back to the venue, everything went smoothly. There was even a surprise waiting for you, which may be another best moment of the tour, because thanks to the fan who threw a sausage roll on stage back in Manchester, Greggs have sent the band a PR package.

It’s a glorious sight. 13 hot sausage rolls and a dozen different pasties for you all to feast on before the show. It was amazing and you’ve never seen food disappear so quickly in your life.

After that, you and Matty both greeted Denise and Lincoln who made the trip up to come and watch the show again. You were sticking to being in the pit again tonight and you went out just after Denise said goodbye to the boys.

When you got to the pit, you couldn’t help but laugh when you saw the crowd yelling and waving at Denise who is up at the top of the first tier of seats. She waves to her fans like the true queen she is and before you know it the show starts.

The show is as amazing as it always is and the crowd is as loud as ever. You’re screaming along with all of them, every line to every song at the top of your lungs but your yells of excitement are interrupted the moment the consumption interlude comes and, while everyone is screaming even louder at the sight, you’re speechless in embarrassment.

You’ve never felt such regret for sleeping with your boyfriend before, but when Matty did the consumption interlude that night and he took his shirt off, revealing to the 11 thousand people (Denise and Lincoln included, plus the band and the crew) that you’d scratched his back to shreds earlier. Your jaw dropped when you saw the red marks lining his shoulder blades.

You quite literally consider running away and never showing your face on this tour or to anyone on it afterwards but thankfully the show carries on and after a few songs you manage to forget about it. It’s a shame everyone else doesn’t forget though, because when you head backstage after the set has ended, you get endlessly teased for it.

If that wasn’t bad enough, the day after, the fans figured out that it wasn’t George carrying Charli into the venue in Liverpool. The bright side was that they didn’t know it was you but they found out it wasn't the queen of pop in the drummer’s arms because Charli attended an event at the same time as the gig back in London so the conspiracies went on and on. Twitter seemed to connect the girl in George’s arms as the one who had marked up Matty’s back and they seemed to just take the piss out of Matty for it because he wasn’t strong enough to carry you inside himself.

It made you and George laugh, but your boyfriend not so much. The next day he took every excuse he could to pick you up off the ground whether it was just to prove the point, or just to twirl you around to make you giggle. At one point he gave you a piggyback ride and he ran around the room filled with all the boys in it, even making Jordan take pictures of the two of you.

Jordan sent you both the pictures that night, and one of the pictures that came out where Matty is running but you and him towards Jordan is so funny. In the first, you and your boyfriend are giggling as he's zooming past the camera but you are both grinning line lunatics as you clutch him.

The second one though is your favourite because it was caught just as you lent around over Matty’s shoulder and his head was twisted towards you, and you were both laughing at each other as he held you up. You were fairly certain you kissed him afterwards too just before Matty raced back around the room.

Before any of you knew it, you were on the plane over to Ireland. The night you got there, you stayed in a hotel and with your free day before the next gig and Matty showed you around the sights. You had such a fun day being a tourist and your boyfriend showed you his favourite spots he always tried to come to when he was in Dublin. And to end the night off, you and the rest of the boys all ended up going to a pub where traditional Irish music was being played inside and it was so much fun.

The Dublin show was the second to last date of the tour and everyone had been incredibly excited about it. Of course, it had been a bit sad seeing this leg of the tour coming to an end but it had all gone so well that you felt more like celebrating the conclusion of such an amazing tour than sulking over it being over.

But it wasn’t the nostalgia of seeing the tour ending before your eyes that made the mood come down when you were all gathered in the greenroom at the venue, instead it was Jamie letting Matty know what a certain tabloid was planning on putting out about him on the next day’s paper.

You instantly caught the change in his behaviour and did your best to cheer him up a bit, which thankfully wasn’t that hard because he seemed to have gotten over it when it was time for you to go out into the crowd and him to get on stage.

That night, you kept your note sweet but funny, using his lyrics to try and steal at least a giggle out of him. When he read that it said, You got a pretty kinda dirty face x he chuckled to himself and pocketed it with a smile that reached his eyes. You were relieved seeing him smiling harder now after the note and you silently hoped it would stay that way until the gig ended.

But you celebrated too soon, because he went on to let the large crowd know about the situation right before singing Love It If We Made It and your heart got heavy seeing the clear distaste and upset on his face.

Matty didn’t let it hold him down though, because he went on to give a passionate rendition of the song and you got goosebumps as you watched him enraged and growling out the lyrics.

Unfortunately, after the show was done, the high came down quickly when you all walked back into the greenroom to the news of the article having been published online already and reading it was upsetting.

You watched as your boyfriend read it multiple times, getting more and more angry every time but he kept it to himself, only letting scoffs and shakes of his head show to everyone. The rest of the band read it and called bullshit on it, rolling their eyes at the way something had been twisted and taken way out of proportion.

It was when you got in the bunk together later that night, in the tour bus on your way to Belfast, that Matty properly let his emotions show.

He let angry tears fall from his eyes silently with you cradling his head on your chest, your right hand rubbing his back soothingly as your other hand was on his head and softly scratching his scalp.

It broke your heart hearing him getting this worked up and upset, your head a tangle of confused thoughts as to how people could be so quick to jump to the worst conclusions when taking a singular second of a moment out of context to fit their villainizing narrative.

“I’m sorry.” Matty apologised as he sniffled, picking up his head from your chest slightly so that he could wipe the tears off his cheeks.

But you shook your head, letting your hands come up to cup his face so you could take on the task of wiping his tears, “Don’t apologise, baby. It’s what I’m here for.”

You pulled him back down to rest over you and he didn’t have it in himself to deny the comfort that you were bringing him so he nuzzled his face on the crook of your neck and, right after he left a soft kiss on your skin, he quietly asked, “Am I a bad person?”

“No, you’re not.” You replied in a heartbeat, not even a hint of doubt crossing your mind, “People just love making others seem worse than them so that they can feel superior. It’s so fucked.” Your fingers tangled in his curls and pulled on them slightly, just so he could look at you as you continued, “Everyone knows the person you are, and you would never do that. You don’t stand for that. They’re always looking for something they can turn into a scandal and it’s so unfair that they do it at your expense.”

His teary eyes watch you intently for a few seconds, silence engulfing you entirely but your eye contact doesn’t break. That’s how you catch the tear that falls from the corner of his eye with your thumb quickly and you have to bite your bottom lip not to cry yourself.

Matty doesn’t say anything and you can’t blame him, it’s upsetting enough to see him go through this so you cannot imagine what it must feel like being called such a name for an action that got completely misinterpreted.

He kissed the palm of your hand softly, wet lips pressed on your soft skin adoringly with his eyes closed as if he’s indulging in it all.

“Let’s just go to sleep okay?” You suggest delicately, whisper breaking the silence and the heaviness of the moment, and you’re so glad that he nods and melts right into you.

After a long minute, you hear Matty sigh and you stay awake until you’re certain he’s asleep. Only when you register his steady breathing and the absence of his sniffling, do you will yourself to close your eyes and get some rest.

~*~*~*~ 30th January ~*~*~*~

Today, you woke up still feeling your chest heavy after everything that had happened last night. But it’s Amelia’s birthday and she's flying over to join you on the last day of tour, so you were excited to go pick her up from the airport, but that unfortunately meant having to leave an upset Matty for a bit just as the crew is starting to bring everything inside the venue.

Earlier that morning, whilst you had gone to the small bathroom in the bus, Matty had read the article once again and when he caved and went on Twitter to see what was being told, he felt his blood starting to boil in anger.

You can see it on his face even now that you’re back. You had managed to make it back to the venue, this time with Amelia beside you, just in time for soundcheck and despite the fact that Matty sounds amazing, it’s written all over his face just how much this is all bothering him still.

On the way back to the venue, you told Amelia what happened and the boy's reaction to it, so she was up to date. But despite the slight atmosphere, you weren’t going to let it affect your best friend's birthday.

The boys greet her warmly when she arrives and they all ask how she’s been. She gives you all the gossip that you’ve missed out on from the chicken shop offices along with other industry stuff that she’s heard. The boys find it quite amusing watching you both back together, it’s easy for them all to see you’ve both missed each other, it’s certainly like what any of them would be like with any long time apart.

Before long, it’s time to soundcheck and whilst you see Matty’s mood dip a little at that, you don’t comment on it despite it being written all over his face. The last thing you think would be helpful is drawing attention to it in front of everyone. So you just peck his lips quickly before you part ways and you head down to the pit with Amelia, fully intending to dance to a few songs with your best friend. And dance you do, to Too Shy, It’s Not Living, She’s American, and a couple more. However, the short practice takes a turn.

It surprises you when the singer turns to George and tells him they’re soundchecking Pressure right after they’ve finished soundchecking Oh Caroline. You feel your chest contract as you hear him angrily spout the lyrics, constantly taking sips of the water bottle that he keeps throwing to the ground beside his feet and rubbing his face like being in his own skin is annoying him.

The feeling in your chest gets even worse when after a few songs, he mumbles something into the mic and the lads start playing Me.

The second the song starts and you recognise it, you feel your heart sinking and you can’t even try and force a smile at Matty when he catches a glimpse at you. His eyes almost evade you as if it hurts him to have you seen him this way, but he keeps getting annoyed at every little thing from then on.

First, he keeps complaining about the volume of his mic compared to the rest of the instruments and after the third time he signals the sound guys to change it, he huffs and rolls his eyes as he gives up on everything. The next thing that happens is that he messes up the lyrics and makes them all start again, and that happens twice which has Ross grumbling under his breath at Matty.

Unsurprisingly, you and your best friend watch as the tension sweeps over the stage. The bassist muttering things clearly annoys Matty a bit more than it normally would and it seems like his thoughts start tangling together after that because he misses a line and starts later than he should’ve and the second he realises his mistake, he explodes in anger.

“No- Stop. Stop!” His arms are wailing around, brows in a permanent frown and his cheeks a hint of pink from how worked up he’s getting, “It’s all wrong!”

Adam lets his head hang at the outburst and George just watches Matty like he’s trying to find the best words to approach him with but Ross has had enough with his attitude so he just airs out his thoughts without much of a filter, “If you’re gonna change the setlist last minute then at least fucking try to properly soundcheck it mate. We’re all doing our parts alright.”

Matty knew they were all playing it right and it was just him who was unable to get it together and at least practice it well, “I fucking know Ross, okay?!” He’s almost shaking from anger, feeling like Ross isn’t even trying to understand where he’s coming from, “Fucking hell. Go and get called a fucking Nazi and see how it feels.”

“You think that hasn’t upset us all?!” Ross hisses in annoyance, “We fucking get it Matty but you’re being a right dick right now.”

“You know that it isn’t true so why are you letting it get to you this much? You’ve never let this shite get to your head before, why now?” Ross has a point with what he’s saying but the reasoning goes over Matty’s head when the bassist adds, “We’ve been through shit like this before, just stop caring like you always do.”

Matty takes is the wrong way and he’s fuming as he says, “And what’s that fucking meant to mean?” He doesn’t even let Ross speak though, because he’s quick to interrupt whatever he’s about to say with a scoff, “You’re such a fucking twat, Macdonald. That’s it. I’m not doing this anymore.”

Not even caring to put the microphone back on its stand, Matty throws it to the side and starts walking off stage, long strides that have Ross shaking his head, “Yes, fucking leave. ‘Cos that’s the best solution.”

Matty turns around to spout a venomous “Fuck you Ross.” and the last thing you hear him say before he disappears back inside the venue is, “Great fucking friend you are, you arsehole.”

You’re fully speechless watching all that happen before you, Amelia squeezes your forearm in shock and that snaps you out of your trance.

Your eyes go to Ross, who looks away when your eyes meet, then to George who just gives you a crooked smile and finally to Adam, who smiles softly at you like he’s trying to comfort you from afar.

“It’s just one of his tantrums, he’ll be alright.” Adam waves off as he sets his guitar on its stand, “He just needs a bit of time.”

You nod and sigh, the heaviness in your chest becoming more prominent, “Should I go check on him?”

“If you want?” George says once he’s down from where his kit is set up and shrugs at you with a bit of worry on his face.

Ross is the one to warn you though, “He might snap at you though, so don’t take it personal if he does.”

“Right.” You nod absentmindedly, trying to think of where Matty might be. You let your bottom lip free from between your teeth and turn to your best friend before you’re off to find your boyfriend, “Sorry Ames, I’ll be right back.”

Shooting Amelia an apologetic look, you start walking past her and she manages to get a little chuckle from you when she calls, “S’okay. Go get your man.”

You make a dash for the backstage area and arrive at the greenroom the quickest you can, and thankfully Matty is right there pacing the room with his head in his hands. His hair is sticking out in every direction from how much he’s pulling on it in frustration.

Careful to not startle him, you clear your throat as you walk into the room and stop when you’ve barely crossed the threshold. “Baby-” You try to ask him if he’s alright, but he interrupts your words when he looks up at you, red eyes with tears threatening to spill out at any second, and basically throws himself into your arms.

The weight of his body hitting yours has a huff slipping past your lips but your arms are quick to clutch him tightly and you allow him to just silently cry into you again. Instantly, you start whispering sweet nothings as you try to calm him down, but nothing works for a while.

Slowly, you guide the both of you to the nearest settee and when you take a seat on it, you encourage him to get comfortable with you. He has his legs thrown over your lap, his head hidden away in the crook of your neck and his arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

Matty is fully silent the whole time, just letting everything out on you and you try your best not to get upset yourself as he cries. 10 minutes must go by when he sniffles continuously and takes deep breaths as if trying to calm himself down, and he lifts his head up once he’s managed to stop crying but not before leaving a bunch of pecks on your neck.

“I’m such a twat, I’m so-” He tries to apologise in a panic, retreating to his space on the settee so he peels himself off you and that has you frowning.

“Don’t.” You interrupt his attempt at an apology and turn to him with a soft expression, your hand comes up to his face and cups it, thumb rubbing on his cheek and feeling the stubble creeping on his skin. “It’s okay, baby. Nothing to apologise for. You feeling a bit better?”

Your boyfriend lets his eyes close at your touch and he hums as confirmation in complete honesty. He’s so glad he can let himself be this vulnerable into you and he certainly notices just how much comfort you bring him because just your presence helps him settle down a bit after what had happened.

“Good.” You mumble in response and, cradling his head, you pull him onto you so he can rest on your chest while you hug him.

Despite all the bullshit that has gone down, seeing how you react in this situation and how you comfort him has his chest swelling. There’s no denying it anymore that you’re one of the best things that has ever happened to him and some thoughts start to clear up in his mind, all about the feelings he has towards you and a hint of how he might’ve underestimated them a little.

About 5 more minutes go by before the band and Amelia come back into the greenroom, their chatter quieting down when they walk into the room. They are wary about the state Matty was in and they don’t really want to disturb him if it was affecting him that much. There will be a much better moment to talk about it later so they will keep their mouths shut about it until the time comes to bring it up.

Amelia walks up to the drinks table and gets you and herself a water bottle, it really is so that you can give it to Matty because she doesn't want to disturb the singer. But when she walks up to you and hands you the bottle, you smile at her and thank her and the mention of her name makes Matty lift his head up to see your best friend.

He offers Amelia a forced side smile and you’re both surprised when he says, “M’sorry for ruining your birthday Ames.”

Amelia clicks her tongue and waves him off, “You haven’t! There’s nothing to apologise for, Matty.”

Your boyfriend gets himself up and pulls her into another hug, “Let me make you a drink, as an apology.”

“Maybe that apology I will accept.” Amelia giggles and she gives Matty a tight squeeze.

Your curly haired brunette smiles at your best friend before letting her go, and he looks between you and her before clapping and rubbing his hands together, “Let’s get the party started then.”

You don’t get in the way of that at all, George gets involved immediately grabbing a can out of the fridge and Rebekka and Polly all grab drinks too. Thankfully once music gets put on, the atmosphere settles a little and you relax that little bit more. And you’re really thankful to everyone wanting to make Amelia’s day special.

After you all end up having your first drink and raising your glasses to your best friend, you quickly grab your boyfriend’s attention for a moment, just to tell him, “I’m just gonna run to the bus. I need to get something, very quickly.”

“You remember the way back here, right?” Matty double checks, and he’s about to offer to come back with you until you assure him.

“I do.” You promise, and you cheekily ask, “Can you please make me another one of those cocktails for when I get back?”

Matty just grins though, “Of course baby.”

Quickly, you kiss him before you head out and Matty’s heart races that little bit when you turn back before you walk out and you catch him smiling at you.

He feels himself blush at the way you wink at him before you disappear off and he takes a second to calm down before he preps the drink you requested. He chats to your best friend with ease and Matty can tell himself getting that little bit better because she provides him with a good distraction. Even if she is jokingly asking if you’re boring him on tour yet or if your excitement has dwindled during the gigs.

When you come back 10 minutes later, everyone notices because when you come back in because as you do, you flick the lights off and when all eyes go to the door, they see you smiling with a birthday cake in your hands. You start off singing Happy Birthday to your best friend and you walk toward her with a grin and laugh through the lyrics when you see her cackling at the fact you have bought her a children’s Spiderman cake.

You’re glad she found it funny as all of this Andrew Garfield hype definitely wasn’t going to leave her anytime soon. After you set the cake down just before the song finished, Amelia blew out her candles and turned to you to give you the biggest hug ever. She thanks you a bunch of times and you giggle telling her how much you love her and have missed her and that you hope she has a fantastic day. After you say how excited you are for her to open her presents, and she promises she’ll open them when you both get back to the hotel, she notices that you’ve changed.

“Outfit change?” Amelia asks with a grin, as she knows exactly where she’s seen this outfit on you before.

You grin and nod, “Had to get my party fit on, Ames.”

“Course.” She laughs, and you notice the way Matty grins as he realises what you’ve changed into as she says, “You look hot.”

You wink at her and smile, “Thanks bestie.”

She winks back at you before turning around herself and heading over to socialise with Ross.

“Party outfit?” Your boyfriend moves over and wraps his arm around your waist. He can’t help but knowingly ask, “You’re wearing this for me?”

He doesn’t even have to ask. He knows you are. Why else would you be wearing red leather pants paired with a cheetah print, long sleeve top?

You shrug nonchalantly, trying not to let the grin tug at your lips, “Maybe?”

“Brings back good memories.” Matty says as he comes around to stand in front of you and he wraps his arms around your waist.

You feel heat rise to your cheeks at the thought of your first date. You genuinely can’t believe that your favourite singer is now your boyfriend, and it all started in a chicken shop in Cricklewood. “Amazing memories.”

Matty has genuinely never been so glad he agreed to an interview. And yes maybe he will eventually admit that he requested to have the date with you, but he’s beyond glad that he did because you have changed his life so much, and it’s certainly for the better.

“The bandana is missing though.” He points out with a soft pout on his face, you can’t hold back from pressing a quick kiss on his lips.

“I didn’t pack it. Sorry baby.” You truly wish you had taken that red bandana with you now but you think the outfit looks recognizable enough without it.

He quickly finds a solution in his head, “I can sort that out.” A red bandana is easy to get, he figures.

“‘Course you can.” You scoff out a laugh, but your amusement settles deep in your chest to add to the adoration you feel for this man. “Kinda wish it was raining right now, you know?” Your voice raises in pitch slightly and your smile grows bigger on your face when you think back to that moment, “Wanna kiss you in the rain again.”

Matty blushes and smiles so big, it reaches his eyes, wrinkles showing at the edges and it makes you melt as he says, “Do you?”

You hum as you nod, “I really do.” And just to taunt him you feign pity as you say, “What a shame, isn’t it?”

His eyes go from your down to your lips and up again continuously, you lick your bottom lip purposely as if daring him to kiss you but he sighs shakily and agrees, “What a shame.”

You want to laugh, his self control clearly crumbling because his gaze keeps dropping down to your lips, so you wrap your arms around his neck and with a toothy smile, you say, “Just kiss me, silly.” and Matty is not one to say no to anything you want.

However, your kiss is interrupted by Amelia and Ross gagging loudly beside you as they approach you with shots in hand. Turns out having tequila shots was the birthday girl’s wishes and you are pushed to downing the hellish liquid multiple times while you wait for the show to start.

Right before you’re off to the pit, you all have a little toast to the tour and to Amelia and it’s so cute being part of this little family. It warms your heart looking back and seeing how everyone had welcomed you into the tour and it’s even more special when you see your best friend also be treated like one of the family.

You’ve caught her giggling around with the band all night, having long conversations with Polly and Ross and even whispering about god-knows-what to Matty before you leave. It has you curious how they seem to be scheming something in secret until the very last minute you have in the greenroom.

But you forget to ask what they were talking about when you’re rushing out of the greenroom and it’s hilarious because, since you’re so tipsy, you and Amelia are giggling uncontrollably as you make your way through the pit.

Your note tonight is perfect for what Matty has schemed with Amelia, and he thinks it’s such a cute coincidence that you’ve written, Baby you look so cool x (you’d originally written babe but scribbled the e and written a y just underneath it) without knowing what is going to happen when the band starts playing Robbers.

Next comes the Charlie Chaplin cover of Smile which never fails to make you do just that, even if Matty acts all drunk and lonely on stage as he sings. You think it’s a beautiful song and you’re so happy that you’d got to see him sing it so often. But what happens next shocks you and the entire arena beyond belief.

It sobers you up watching the bit play out on stage, unbelievably so when you see Matty break down into tears holding Ross’ shoulder and apologising to him as Ross is forced to stand there and not react. You can’t even tell if he’s crying for the bit or not, it worries you.

As soon as you knew the consumption interlude was coming, you headed backstage needing to know if everything was alright because even though he had played 6 more songs after that bit had happened, he seemed a bit off.

So you appeared backstage and your arms opened up for him to run into them the second you saw him and you’re so glad he clutches you tightly and promises you he’s alright after you ask him if there was something bothering him.

He didn’t have much time to stay and chat to you, since the crew had gotten the stage ready for the at their very best section quickly so you reluctantly let him go with a sweet kiss that he thoroughly enjoys despite being rushed back onto stage.

Once he’s gone back on stage with the lads, you figure it’s better for you to be close to the stage just in case he gets upset again, so you go to the far left side of the stage where typically the crew watch the show from and stay there for the rest of the show.

Or at least that is what you were planning to do until your boyfriend takes the opportunity of An Encounter drowning the arena to start a little monologue which sparks your curiosity.

Matty smiles into the microphone and adjusts his in-ears as he walks over to the edge of the stage and leans forward as if he’s about to tell the crowd a secret. “You know, this next song has become a lot more special this past month and I wanted to share with you the reason for why that is.”

Listening to those words knowing that Robbers is next makes you turn slowly to your best friend and you find Amelia smiling brightly as you and you just know she has to do something with this because of the mischievous glint in her eyes.

There isn’t a chance for you to even ask about what’s happening when she drags you into the back of the stage and up the stairs so that you’re right beside the house. You’re so confused but you have to take quick steps so you don’t fall and it is when you’re almost by the door of the house that she pulls out a piece of red fabric and when a bit of light manages its way over where you are standing, you realise it’s a red bandana - the one you were missing.

“Put this on.” Amelia holds the bandana out for you.

But you’re so confused about everything, and why you’ve been moved to behind the stage, and what the bandana is even for, so you blankly ask, “What?”

“God- Okay,” Amelia half laughs, before she takes control of the situation as your confusion isn’t helping, “I’ll put it on you then.”

Your best friend spins you around so she can tie the material at the back of your head before turning you back and adjusting the bandana so it’s over your nose and it’s in the perfect position.

“What’s going on?” You ask as she’s doing this.

Your confusion doesn’t help when you can also hear screams from the audience and Matty’s muffled voice too. Clearly somethings going on and you’ve been left in the dark.

Your best friend looks you dead in the eye and pleads, “Trust me okay.” But you can’t settle.

“Ames, what’s happening?” You repeat yourself and she must be able to see the panic in your eyes because she answers you.

“You’re gonna go out there for something your boyfriend has planned.”

It’s an instinctive reaction to immediately be defensive, “What?! No!”

“Yes, come on!” Amelia grins, and quickly goes on to guilt trip you, “For me? For my birthday?”

“Ames…” You trail off, feeling like you’re frozen because you have no idea what you’re meant to do. Especially when she hands you a black bandana.

But your best friend spells it out for you, “As soon as Matty opens the door, you’re gonna tie this around his neck, okay?”

“Okay.” You say in a bit of a rush, your blood flooding with adrenaline so you blindly accept what she’s telling you. She adjusts your red one on your nose again, making sure it’s perfectly positioned as she instructs, “And keep this one around yours.”

You not without really knowing you’re agreeing yet you respond, “Okay.”

“Good luck,” She grins at you like a proud mother, “You got this.”

“Amelia-” You’re about to beg her for something more, but before you can the door in front of you opens, almost making you jump.

Your boyfriend stands at the open door with his hand already out for you to grab, the dreamiest smile on his face and you’re so nervous, you’re feeling a rush of a million emotions in one second.

And then your gaze drops to his chest in full show because his shirt is open and when you realise he’s somehow managed to get the Robbers shirt and is proudly wearing it for the song. It knocks the wind out of you, your throat goes dry at your lack of knowledge of what’s about to happen that involves you but Matty looks so happy compared to earlier that you’re willing to take part of whatever he’s planned.

That sultry, “Hey baby.” which makes your stomach flutter, snaps you out of the initial shock.

“What are we doing?” You ask through the bandana, almost frozen in your spot but he encourages you to take a small step forward.

“Putting on a show.” He pulls back and grins before he looks down at you and squeezes your hand as he says, “You look gorgeous.”

“I-” Whilst the compliment makes you blush, you’re not really sure it’s the time as you want more instructions from him than flattery. Regardless though, you end up stuttering a, “Thank you.”

“I got you baby. Let’s go.” Matty squeezes your hand tightly and this time you don’t hesitate to step out to him as you hear An Encounter begin to fade into your favourite song. Your boyfriend turns to you once more at the entryway to his house, the both of you just beside Rebekka and he still shields you from most people as he leans down to say into your ear, “Do what we did the other day in soundcheck, okay. I’ll stand on the table and when I go to sit down you crouch, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod complacently.

Kneel down in front of him, you can do. You’ve had practice at this point and you’ll be fine.

Your boyfriend checks once more, looking into your eyes intently for any discomfort you may be feeling as he asks, “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You promise him, nodding.

You trust Matty completely. If he wants you to do this, and be a part of his show, you’re going to do it as best you can.

The singer grins, leaning down again quickly to promise, “I got you.” and as you smile beneath the bandana, he also kisses just over your ear which makes you get flustered all over again.

And then suddenly you’re hit with a mass of screams and it’s difficult to even listen to the music that is being played around you. If you didn’t have those in-ears already in you would be fucked.

Matty walks just one step in front of you, pulling you across towards George, but only for a step until he turns back towards you and pulls you into his body. His hand lands on your waist and he slow dances you towards the white door as the drums kick in and everyone screams again.

Little do you know, more screams take place because on the screen, it comes up with, Special Guest: New Robbers Girl. It’s a detail which you will certainly be laughing at later but in the moment you have no idea as your boyfriend is dancing you across his stage.

You giggle, knowing exactly what he’s doing and what he’s referencing as you dreamed about someone doing this with you when you were younger and you first watched the music video that still to this day has you in a chokehold. Despite your heart beating wildly, you let him lead you like that, spinning you both around until you are through the door and see Polly and Jamie who give you big smiles.

That’s the moment Matty frees you from the short dance but he pulls your arm until it's fully extended and you’re gently dragged along in the direction of the stairs. It's again another reference to the beginning of the music video and you love it with all your heart.

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, it doesn’t take you long to reach the place where you know you’re gonna be standing which is right by the coffee table and once your boyfriend turns you around by the waist so you’re facing him, you catch Adam smiling at you and it definitely helps to settle your nerves a bit.

But Matty starting to sing brings all of your attention back to him, goosebumps erupt all over your skin at the charged energy of the arena and the way he sounds with the crowd singing along.

In your hands remains the bandana Amelia gave you just before the door opened, and you remember what you’re meant to do with it when you clutch it tightly between your fingers. So you bring it up to his neck so you can tie it on the back, but your actions still when he sings the next line staring directly into your eyes.

“God only knows but you’ll never leave her,” the conviction in his eyes makes you melt inside, your knees get weak and your heart swells and the flood of every feeling this man brings you comes in even stronger when he reiterates into the mic, “Never.”

You aren’t sure how you manage to tie the bandana around his neck when that happens, but you’re soon smoothing your hands from his shoulders down to his sweaty taut chest and you genuinely feel like you need to pinch yourself just to make sure you aren’t dreaming.

His fingers wrap around your wrist and slowly he walks backwards until he hits the coffee table and he gets up on it. He doesn’t even have to guide you where to go because you’re positioning yourself right in front of him, looking up as he continues to sing.

The lights on stage showcase his beauty, and you can’t help but get lost in how good he looks in his element. It’s different seeing it from up close, the brown of his eyes glistening under the lighting and his curls being illuminated like a halo around his head.

“Begging babe stay, stay, stay, stay, stay.” You watch him intently and you can’t help but grin at the way he nudges the microphone against your chin for that final stay.

Matty can tell just how big your smile is from the way your eyes are half closed and the apples of your cheeks moving to bring the bandana up the slightest bit. And he smiles just as brightly, nothing has ever felt more right to him than this.

As he’s singing, “One more fight,” Matty slowly steps down from the table and you know your queue. You start to kneel down and when you do Matty sits on the end of the table.

You’re singing along with him, not giving a shit if he can hear you or not or whether it’s ruining what he had planned but you can’t help yourself. He’s singing your favourite song to you.

He reaches the first, “Will I know you.” and as Adam’s guitar begins to ring in the background, Matty leans in and you know what’s coming. You welcome the way he gently grabs your jaw over your bandana and he pulls you in.

In the short gap between the verses, Matty presses his lips over yours, through the red material you’re wearing, and you can’t help but smile as you close your eyes to kiss him back. It’s a weird sensation, kissing but not quite, but you can feel his smile through it and you can see the joy on his face when you both pull away seconds after the crowd erupts in screams.

What the fuck is happening? Is all that’s going through your mind at the moment.

Your mind just can’t really grasp reality at the minute, not when your boyfriend is making one of your teenage dreams come true. Hell, your boyfriend is your teenage dream come true.

Both of you stay in that position as he continues onto the second verse, with you singing along as he looks into your eyes. Matty can tell you’re doing this, and he doesn’t need to see beneath the material to know that your lips are pulled into a huge smile, he can tell just from your eyes alone.

“You’ve got a pretty kind of dirty face.” Matty grins over his microphone as he sings that line at you. But he doesn’t stop there, he gently traces his finger down the centre of your face as he does and it has people screaming that little bit louder, along with you doing the same internally.

As he continues, he doesn’t let his touch stray for long. Instead, he takes a piece of your hair and starts toying with it. Twirling it around his finger over and over as he sings, “And when she’s leaving you’re home, she’s begging you to stay, stay, stay, stay, stay.”

Your eyes glimmer with adoration and your heart feels like it’s about to burst in your chest when he sings, “There’ll be a riot, cause I know you.” and he takes a hold of your wrist where ‘Be a riot’ is inked on your skin and he plants a chaste kiss over it.

It isn’t long that you can stay short circuiting over the gesture, because he’s sliding his hand up from your wrist to intertwine your fingers and helping you back up to stand on your feet.

The song starts building up, his voice becoming more passionate and so does his touch which goes from your hand to cup the side of your neck, bringing you a step closer to him. His fingers lace through the strands of your hair, twirling them softly before letting them fall.

And you know it then, what he’s going to do, knowing which line is sneaking up on you and you nod, reading his mind about it. It’s subtle and reassuring, and it’s warmth that envelopes you as it pours out of both of you when you know that this is it.

Matty’s finger tentatively comes to rest over the bridge of your nose, hooking on the edge of the bandana and he slowly peels it down your face as he sings, “But if you just take off your mask,”

The screams of the crowd when your face is finally revealed are deafening, yet it feels like you’re inside of a bubble. Just you and Matty. No one else. And this is your moment, just you two and there’s absolutely nothing else you could ever wish for.

Your cheeks hurt from how big you’re smiling, and his own smile is making it harder for him to continue singing. That and how badly he wants to seal this moment with a kiss, how badly he wants for everyone to know just how strongly he feels about you, how badly he wants for everyone to see how you’ve got him at your mercy entirely because he’s sure there’s nothing you could ever ask that he wouldn’t do.

“Sing it for me babies!” Matty shouts to the audience and he holds the microphone out towards them so they can scream, ‘Now everybody’s dead!’ but your boyfriend has other ideas for you two.

With his other hand, Matty cups the back of your neck and firmly and fiercely kisses you as the crowd screams the lyrics at the both of you. He lets the wire fall over his arm as he drops the microphone so he can get it again with ease later, but he brings his now free hand to your waist, wrapping it around your lower back pulling you into him, until he consumes you entirely.

It’s instinctive that your hand roots into his curls at this point, the other grabbing hold of his open shirt, pulling it towards you making sure he can’t escape either. Your heart is pounding, entirely running on adrenaline, and completely overwhelmed with the feelings you have for the man who’s holding you in his arms.

Matty never wants to let you go and you hope he doesn’t either. Over the loud screams you can barely hear the song anymore but you know he’s missed more than just that one lyric. It’s only when you just about hear the others singing through your in-ears, “He’s got his gun.” that you realise you’ve both got too wrapped up in the moment.

Yet, still in your hazy mind, you manage to register your favourite part of the song and you’re the one who pulls back and breaks the kiss solely to tell him, “Babe, you look so cool.”

His face is flushed, curls dishevelled just how you like them and that loopy smile on his face that melts your heart, and he looks into your eyes in a way that you just can’t describe, his lips parting and letting a soft exhale to hit your mouth before he sings to you, “You look so cool.”

Suddenly, he remembers he’s meant to sing so he’s hastily getting ahold of the mic again, but he interrupts himself and cuts the run he’s meant to do as he sings the word ‘cool’ when he watches your lips move as you sing along and he can’t be arsed singing anymore when you’re right there in front of him.

He throws the mic to the floor, the wire falling down his arm so he’s free to cup your face with both hands and pressing your lips together feverishly. His arms wrap around the back of your neck, and he brings his hands up to your hair to pull on it softly once before he’s crossing his forearms behind your head so he can pull you impossibly closer to him.

You moan softly into his mouth at his desperation, matching it with the way your fingers dig into the flesh of his waist where you’re holding him tightly as if there was a chance that he could be snatched away from you if you weren’t careful. You kiss until you’re lost for breath, only parting when you need to for air but it's never for more than a split second.

There's a push and pull between you as the rest of the band finish playing the song with huge smiles on their faces. If Matty came into the kiss a little too strong you’d try and take a step backwards but he quickly follows you, keeping you in the kiss, and he would lean backwards pulling you forwards.

The song unfortunately ends and that's when you force yourself to pull back from the kisses. But when you do, Matty just grins and he turns towards the crowd, pulling you with him and he moves so he can hug you from behind quickly so you can take in the applause.

“All for us baby.” He says into your ear, and you can’t help but turn around to quickly hug him, a little embarrassed being up here in front of so many people.

Your boyfriend giggles but doesn’t hesitate for a second to hug you back as the applause rings on. After a second though you pull back and Matty takes your hand in his and he starts moving the both of you back over to Adam’s side of the stage so you can get to the stairs.

Matty lets you walk in front of him, making sure you get up the stairs alright, and then he lets you walk back across the top of the stage towards the ‘front’ door. George and Rebekka grin at you as you walk past which gets you a little more embarrassed but you embrace it when you get to the door and you look out at the huge audience again.

You blow them all a kiss and give them a big wave and smile which makes everyone scream again and it makes you giggle. When you turn to look at your boyfriend again, he’s already grinning at you and he gives your hand a squeeze, and just the way he’s looking so cute and so gooey, you give him another kiss.

It’s quicker than your last few but it means just as much as those ones. You can feel each other's smiles which cuts it a little shorter but you’re grinning like fools when you step back towards the door again.

Like a gentleman he opens the door for you and as you’re about to go through he pulls you back in for another kiss. It’s a short kiss but it’s one you cherish so much, even more when you part and at the same time you both mouth, “Obsessed with you.” at each other. You take a step through the door but before you can walk through, you feel yourself get all flustered as he looks at you, before you can walk through the door though he holds your hip and tells you, “Wait here a second baby.”

Matty quickly pecks your lips one last time, before he jumps down from the top stage, onto the settee and then he quickly crouches down to pick up the microphone from near the edge of the stage where he threw it earlier. He sighs with a toothy grin on his face once his eyes are back on the crowd. Seeing this many people witness you and him finally out and not sneaking around makes him incredibly happy.

“Y/N Y/L/N, ladies and gentlemen.” His voice rings through the speakers, as he turns to watch you wave goodbye to the mass of people in front of the stage and you quickly blow him another kiss before you turn to walk back through the house’s door.

“Wow, what a girlfriend reveal!” Matty breathes out with a giggle at the end, as soon as you’ve disappeared behind the door. He’s so giddy, he just can’t conceal it and he doesn’t really want to so he gives in and proudly shares with the crowd as he grabs he walks up and down the stage, “I’m a very lucky man. The luckiest in fact, can you believe I’ve managed to snag one of the hotties from Chicken Shop Date?”

The crowd gets loud again but the noise doesn’t stop the thoughts from leaving the singer’s mouth entirely unfiltered, “I know I can’t. Still have to pinch myself every morning when I wake up next to her. She’s truly the woman of my dreams.” Matty feels his cheeks get hot at the admission, a string of giggles slipping past his lips.

At least the screams he gets as a response feel like validation so he continues with it, “Sorry for being soppy but, I mean… You lot know her, how could I not?” He’s trying to elongate the mic’s wire, knowing which song is next on the setlist and how he’s gonna want to go all around the stage.

But as he finishes unknotting it and pulling it the most he can, he looks back up to the people before him and adds some more, “Isn’t she just fucking gorgeous as well?”

Matty truly could speak about you for hours, it’s not even been a month since you’ve officially gotten together but he has so many things about you pinned to the forefront of his mind and there’s so many things that he thinks about you that he could honestly find himself lost in sentences regarding all that you are and what you’ve achieved and every little thing you do.

So it’s no surprise that his tongue wants to let loose and spill all of these thoughts out but then he hears George call him, “Simp,” through his in-ears and all of the band giggles when it stops Matty in his tracks.

He turns around to look at the drummer with a glare and he calls him out, “Alright George, piss off. I don’t say shit when you’re with Charli.”

It makes the crowd laugh and holler, some of them spouting comments in the air that get lost in the chaos of so many people shouting at the same time but in a couple of seconds it settles and a particular scream manages to make itself clear out of the crowd and Matty cackles loudly into the mic, “Someone’s just said foursome.”

George laughs into the mic as well, and Matty manages to hear something along the lines of, “You can be in the corner recording.” in between the crowd’s loud screams at the prospect of the lewd proposition.

“Let’s not bring that back to Y/N’s attention please, I’ve already gone through that chat.” Matty admits with a cheeky smile, hoping that you’re listening to this and already picturing in his mind the way you must be flustered at this talk being had on stage in front of thousands of people.

And you are flustered, fanning yourself because you feel scorching hot after everything that has happened in the past ten minutes. So much so, you’ve had to sit down and you’re now watching the screens backstage as you listen to your boyfriend.

“I feel faint.” You let Amelia know, your brows are softly pinched together from how lightheaded and hot you’re feeling but still staring at the screen in front of you with a look that Amelia reads instantly.

With the adrenaline dying down, you can’t quite believe you’ve just done that. You got your robbers kiss, your moment to your favourite song that you’ve only dreamed about since 2013. And now, you and Matty are public. You can’t stop smiling despite the way your heart is beating out of your chest.

Amelia sits beside you, her arm going over your shoulder and she pulls you into her as she giggles before kissing your cheek.

“You’re down bad.” She concludes, she can see it written all over your face and it shines through your eyes and her heart swells in her chest for you.

She’s never seen you so happy.

Despite how soon it may be, you nod in confirmation, “I am.”

From the way your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard and the tingling you feel rushing to every corner of your being, you know it’s more than the adrenaline pumping through your veins that is making your heart beat wildly. After what just happened on stage, there’s no way you can deny that your feelings for Matty are getting stronger with every second you spend by his side.

It’s crazy. It’s rushed. It’s far too soon. You can almost clearly hear everyone telling you.

But you know in your heart, nothing and nobody has ever felt more right.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N: We hope you enjoyed this one because we truly loved writing it so much. We were so emotional thinking about how this was originally the end, so glad we got more content to continue writing about! We just wanted to say that we’re not having the Friedland podcast in this story because we have no interest in touching that subject in a work of fiction that we consider an escape from reality. Instead, since this is a continuation of NRIACC Matty and he wouldn’t have ever taken part in that, we’re having the Brits as they were meant to happen and we’re so excited to write that evening and share it with you guys. Thanks so much for reading again, and for your patience and all the love you give this story, yous are the best! xx 

Taglist: @red---moon​ @drinkurkombucha​ @vinylandcoffeecollection​ @better--oblivions​ @kennedy-brooke​ @faveficz​ @indierockgirrl​ @slutformattyhealy​ @kmsmedine @cecefaith​ @benkidgenius @avasjunkpile​ @spicyraccoonlordking​ @lizzylynch1​ @ofbluesandyellows​ @kipperthedog2004​ @slutforcoffein​ @madamedesmond​ @iamhallucinationnn @imagines4peeps @siwiecola​ @eaglestar31 @neverlieliliac​ @olliewhinchester​ @internetmultifandomfangirl @wellwellhereiam​ @dania7361 @kurdtbean​ @mawanji @jazzymariexoxoc @picklesandsprinkles @home-of-disaster​ @maelialuv​ @londonalozzy​ @ker0senebunny​ @golden-hoax​ @thouarntsage​ @belledawnidk​ @confusedcrayon​ @how2understand​ @harringt8ns​ @sheisaaantisocial​ @brumantrack @real-actual-human-person​ @eddiemunsonsgroupie @hemmings8376​ @darlingbravebelle @defnotgracee​ @fabulouslyflamboyant5 @deamus-liv​ @itsjustsocialimplications​ @deamus-liv​ @itsjustsociallimplications​ @lauren--maex​ @ithinkivegonemad11​ @stclen-sweethearts​ @stuck-in-fictional-worlds @befrwime​ @getbillzoned​ @hazskillerqueen​ @conanbeshifting​ @thereisaplaceintheheart​ @jasmine06blog​ @blancastans​​ @luvrattyhealy @wendyspotatopeeler​​ @oh-caro​ @journey-to-consistency​ @kizzywh​ @ihatemat-tyhealy​ @l0ve-0f-my-life @julezs-bl0g​

Please let either of us know if you want to be added to the Taglist x

[whimsicalpolitical]

I’m feeling fluffy today

So here it is

Being sung to sleep by Matty as he holds you in his arms

🫶🏻🫶🏻

────────────────────────

It’s quiet in your shared bedroom. All you can hear is the scribbling from Matty. He is hunched over his desk, the glow of the lamp casting long shadows in the dimly lit room. He is scribbling lyrics into a worn notebook, caught up in a late-night creative burst. The quiet is broken by a soft, plaintive murmur from the bed.

“Still not coming to bed?“ you whisper, looking over all the blankets which are draped over you. “I can’t sleep.“

“You got fucking sleeping issues or something, love?“ Matty looks up, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Some of us have to work, you know.“

You can’t help but admire him as he stretches, shirtless and clad only in boxers. His curls are tousled, framing his face in a way that makes him look effortlessly handsome.

You pout, pulling the blanket tighter around you. “But I can’t sleep without you.”

Matty sighs dramatically, a grin spreading across his face. “Alright, alright,” he says getting up from his chair. He closes the notebook and turns off the little lamp.

His curls bounce slightly as he moves towards you, and the sight of him makes your heart flutter. “You’re a right little troublemaker, you know that?”

He saunters over to the bed and sits down beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. “Lucky for you, you’re cute,” he says, brushing a strand of hair away from your face with his warm fingers. “And you’ve got great tits.”

“Matty!” You hit his chest, shoving him away from you playfully. The boyish grin on his face makes you giggle and kiss his cheek. “Sing to me?” You ask, your voice soft and pleading.

Matty rolls his eyes, but the affection in them is unmistakable. “You really are a bit needy, aren’t you?” He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close to his warm, bare chest. “Alright, then. Let’s get you sorted.”

“Is something bothering you baby?” After teasing he wants to make sure you know that he’s worried if something’s going on.

You don’t want to tell him that you can only fall asleep when he’s next to you. That you either need his touch or voice so you can come to rest. What has he done to you.

“Mm no, just having trouble today,” you lie, leaning your head back against his collarbone.

“Alright then, any song wishes?” It’s a difficult question because there are so many, in the end it doesn’t matter though because his voice is soothing either way.

“New York,” you answer, remembering that he sung this at a Phoebe Bridgers concert.

“You’ve got great taste,” he chuckles softly, his warm breath tickling your ear.

You suppress a giggle, feeling a bit proud for the choice of song.

“Close your eyes, love,” he whispers, his other hand gently threading through your hair, his touch light and tender.

You did as he said, letting his voice wash over you, each note a soothing caress that chased away the day’s worries. His fingers continued to weave through your hair, the sensation lulling you into a deeper sense of relaxation.

“There you go, darling,” Matty murmurs, his lips brushing your forehead. “Just relax.”

You feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he hums softly, his voice low and comforting. His voice, with its rich, velvety tones, wraps around you like a warm blanket.

You love Matty’s voice, if you could choose you would want him to sing to you every night, but as everyone he needs his rest as well. Only if you beg real nicely he sings to you, secretly loving the effect he has on you.

At night his voice becomes more gravely and deeper, a different kind of rawness to his singing.

After a few minutes of singing, Matty glances down, checking to see if you’re already asleep. And you are, nestled against him, your breathing slow and steady, lost in the slumber.

“You’re somethin’ else,” he whispers and a tender smile tugs at his lips as he watches you, the weight of his love for you settling warmly in his chest. Leaning down, he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulls back.

“Sweet dreams, love.”

[ecemf]

The Interview — Matty Healy

18+! MDNI!!!!!! Explicit!!!

Okay so I've never written fanfic or smut before so this could be ass but I just love jealousy sex & the idea of being on a red carpet so...

CW: smut, choking, dom/sub dynamics, dom!matty, sub!reader, use of y/n, alcohol usage, jealous!matty, possessive!matty, established relationship, thigh riding, i think that's it?? lmk if i missed anything

WC: ~3k

Ok I hope y'all like it ENJOY!!

The Interview.

The cameras are almost blinding as you stare out into the crowd of photographers shouting your name, trying to get the best angle for whatever publication they’re working for. Being a top executive at Sony Music meant you mostly worked behind the scenes; out of the spotlight. However, seeing as 18 artists on your label (five of which you yourself handpicked) were up for awards tonight, you couldn’t not show up to The Grammys. Besides, it felt good to dress up once in a while, especially if that meant wearing custom Chanel.

Continuing down the red carpet, you’re stopped by a reporter for Rolling Stone, Bryan Wilson. From the few brief interactions you’ve had with him at industry parties and the stories that have circulated about him, you know the guy’s a sleaze. But, given that there’s a Canon XF605 pointed directly in your face when he asks if you have time for a short interview, you smile sweetly and comply.

“You look stunning tonight, as always, Y/N”, he begins, in typical sleazy reporter fashion, “Can you tell us a little bit about what you’re wearing?” His eyes travel down the expanse of your body, grazing (quite slowly, to be frank) over the daring V-cut of your gown.

You couldn’t really blame him for checking you out, you did look incredible in this dress. Layers of black satin expertly draped over your body created an elegant but sexy silhouette complete with a plunging neckline and a timeless backless design. You knew you looked good, you didn’t need Wilson eye-fucking you to tell.

“Isn’t this The Rolling Stone?” You giggle in response, half-joking, “Shouldn’t you be asking me about Sony Records and leave the fashion questions to Vogue?” To the untrained ear, your tone is light-hearted and sincere, however, there’s an intended edge you’re hoping is coming through.

If he was picking up on the edge, he wasn’t showing it. Wilson continues on checking you out, responding “We hear about Sony Records enough, but it’s a treat to see the woman behind the magic,” he looks directly into the camera and gestures to your body, “especially when the woman looks like this!” He looks at you now, “Why don’t you give us a spin, Y/N?”

You clench your jaw into a tight smile, “You know, I’d really rather talk about the artists up for awards tonight. It’s a record-breaking night for my company, and I’m extremely proud to be here…” You’re trying your best to refocus the conversation on the real reason you’re on the red carpet tonight, but Wilson’s wandering eyes are making it difficult for you to focus on anything.

Finally feeling fed up, you clear your throat, “Sorry, Bryan, am I boring you?”

He breaks out of his stare from your chest and goes red. “Oh! No, I’m sorry I was just… looking at your necklace!” He gestures to the Tiffany & Co. pendant that hangs (conveniently for him) right between your boobs.

“Stunning, innit?” You hear your boyfriend say from behind you as he comes up and possessively wraps his arm around your waist on camera in a way that will definitely be circulating Twitter tomorrow. “Just bought it for her yesterday when I first got to see the dress.” Matty grips your right hip so tight that the satin puckers under his fingertips. You get a feeling he’s been watching this “interview” from afar.

“A beautiful necklace for a beautiful woman, indeed,” Wilson so boldly responds, either not noticing or not caring that Matty was already quite irritated.

With that final comment, Matty grips your hip even tighter, “Right, then,” he says shortly, “Cheers, mate!” He yells over his shoulder while quickly ushering you away from the train wreck of a media appearance.

“I’m gonna kill that guy,” he leans down to quietly whisper in your ear as the two of you make your way into the venue, “Staring at you like a piece of meat live on camera, isn’t he embarrassed?”

“It’s really not a big deal, baby,” you try to reassure him. And to you, it wasn’t, really, compared to some of the other harassment and objectification you’ve experienced in such a male-dominated industry, “He’s just some stupid reporter,”

“Yeah some stupid reporter who doesn’t know how to keep his stupid fucking eyes away from what’s mine,” he growls under his breath.

You grow a bit warm at your boyfriend’s possessive words and decide to push him a little further. “So what, people aren’t allowed to look at me now? We’re kind of on a red carpet if you haven’t realized,”

Matty rolls his eyes as the two of you take your seats at your assigned table. “You know what I mean,” he scoots a bit closer to you, wrapping his arm around your waist, “People can look at you all they want, but these,” he trails his hand up your torso, palming your left tit and slightly grazing its nipple through your dress with his thumb. You gasp. “These are mine, and you know that.” he says lowly into your ear.

This was going to be a long night.

—

Seven wins, two acceptance speeches, and a few too many bottles of champagne later, the ceremony was coming to an end. You were so proud of your artists, even those who hadn’t won tonight.

To your (and your aching feet’s) misfortune, your boyfriend was insistent on “making an appearance” at the afterparty, to “touch base with some important blokes”. You weren’t thrilled about the ordeal, but you had a nice buzz going from the free champagne earlier and figured a gin and tonic to top off the night wouldn’t hurt anyone. Boy were you wrong.

You were standing by the bar by yourself, watching Matty “touch base” with the aforementioned “blokes”. Nursing your second gin and tonic, you wonder how much longer their conversation will take, and when you can finally go home (and take your boyfriend to bed). As your mind indulges your fantasies of being fucked to sleep later, you hear an annoying and familiar voice from behind you.

“It breaks my heart to see such a gorgeous woman drinking alone,” no one other than Bryan Wilson saunters up beside you at the bar, “Where’s your man? You think he’d be smarter than to leave such precious goods unattended…” he slurs to you, obviously a few more deep than you were at this point in the night.

As Wilson drunkenly gets too close to you, you turn back to where Matty was talking to see him staring holes into the man’s skull, clenching and unclenching his fists. Your nearing-on-past-tipsy mind flashes back to your boyfriend’s words earlier, and his reaction to the reporter’s initial efforts towards you. You consider your options: 1) tell Wilson to fuck off and continue being bored by yourself at the bar, or 2) play this up a bit, make Matty jealous, have some fun, and probably go home early. Your sixth drink of the night tells you option two is far more enticing, and you agree.

You lean into Wilson a bit, closing some of the distance you were intentionally making. “Ever the flatterer, Bryan,” you lean back and give him a once-over, “I’m shocked that you’re still single, a handsome guy like you with such a smooth mouth on him.”

“It’s intentional baby,” he puts a hand on your arm - uh oh. “Why would I tie down this smooth mouth to one lucky lady? There’s plenty enough to go around…” and just as you think he’s about to make a move you feel a bruising grip on your upper arm tearing you away. Away from Bryan Wilson, away from the bar, away from the party.

You get your bearings and find yourself in a secluded hallway outside the party with your very angry, very sexy boyfriend staring you in the face. “What the fuck was that?” He spits at you, fuming.

“What was what?” You respond, looking up at Matty with your best doe eyes.

He cages your body in between his own and the wall of the hallway, “Don’t play stupid with me now, things can only get worse for you from here, pet.” As you look up at your very jealous partner, and feel the energy radiating off of him, you think to yourself that things can probably only get better.

You maintain your look of faux-innocence as you reply in your sweetest voice “Baby I was just talking to-“

“Don’t ‘baby’ me,” Matty growls as he grabs your throat and pushes you harder into the wall behind you. “You were letting that perv practically fuck you in front of everybody here. Making everyone think you’re anything but mine.” He pushes his hips into yours to punctuate the word, and you can feel how hard he is. Oh dear. Maybe it’s time to drop the act.

“I’m sorry, you were just taking so long talking to those guys, and I was getting so impatient and needy for you,” You bat your eyelashes in an attempt to seduce your way out of undoubtedly being fucked silly in some corner of this hotel right now. “I just want you to take me home, baby,” You run your hands down his chest, the way you know he likes.

Matty scoffs at this. “Aw, my poor little slut can’t wait longer than an hour for me to take her home and fuck her?” You feel a heat pool at your center from his words and absolute condescension. His hand around your neck comes up to grip your jaw, holding your head so that you can’t look anywhere but his eyes. “So fucking pathetic. Having to whore yourself around in public so that I can give you some attention? Trying to embarrass me in front of all our colleagues meanwhile, the only thing embarrassing is how stupid you look letting that scumbag put his hands on you,”

He holds your face an inch away from his own, his eyes searching for a response in yours. “I think you may need to be reminded just who you belong to.” He says darkly. And with that, he’s dragging you again, this time into the bathroom at the other end of the hallway.

As soon as the door closes he has you pressed up against it face-first. He wastes no time undoing the back of your dress, practically ripping it off of your body. You hope he doesn’t do any damage to the new gown, but to be honest, you’re not sure you care in this moment either way. Upon removing the dress, your boyfriend can see that you’ve forgone any undergarments (half because of the dress itself, half because you knew it would drive him crazy - which it does).

“Oh my fucking god,” he practically moans when he sees your now naked form pressed up against the door for him. “You’ve been ready for me all night, haven’t you princess?” He whispers in your ear, pressing himself to your back, slightly grinding into your bare ass. You squirm with his words and the minimal stimulation he provides.

“Well let’s just take a look,” He reaches his hand around from where he’s standing and drags a finger through your soaking folds agonizingly slowly. Your breath hitches. “Oh my poor girl,” he tuts, “how long have you been soaking through your dress baby?” He resumes his teasing, touching everywhere that isn’t your clit or your entrance. You whine and push your hips back in protest.

Matty grabs you by your waist and holds you in place against the door. “I think I asked you a question, slut.” He barks. You only grow wetter at his words and his toying.

“Since-“ you start, but you’re cut off by a moan when he takes his free hand to pull on your left nipple. His teasing is almost overwhelming, and you’re not sure you even remember the question the way your head is clouded with lust and need.

You’re pulled out of your hazy state by a hard slap to your pussy, “Since what? Huh? I haven’t even taken my cock out and you’re already fucked dumb. Answer me. How long have you been this wet?” He asks again, rolling your nipple between his fingers while inching closer and closer to your entrance with his calloused hand.

“Since you were grabbing my hips on the red carpet,” you manage to stutter out “during the interview.”

With that answer, he removes both of his hands from you. You put your hands up to brace yourself from slamming into the door from your newfound loss of support. Matty laughs darkly.

“So that’s what this is about, huh angel?” He grabs you by your hips, spinning to face him and pushing you even harder into the door behind you, “you like it when I get riled up, so I’ll treat you like the whore that you are?”

You look up at him with your glazed-over eyes and nod dumbly.

“Well here’s the problem with that,” Matty begins sucking on your neck harshly, no doubt leaving bruises, “You… are… my… whore… no… one… else’s…” he punctuates every word by leaving a new mark on your chest with his mouth. He takes a step back, admiring his handiwork. “Gorgeous,” he mutters as he admires your now hickey-covered tits, “you should really see this baby.”

Matty leads you over to the sink of the bathroom, turning you around to see your naked and marked-up form in the mirror. Looking at the new marks on your chest, you realize that he’s left them in the distinct pattern of your dress’s neckline, meaning there’s no hiding them. No hiding the fact that you’re his. You squeeze your thighs together at the thought.

Leaning over your shoulder in the mirror, you watch as your boyfriend trails his hand down your body to the place you need him most. Unsurprisingly, though, he doesn’t touch you, he simply ghosts his hand over the outside of your now sopping heat. You press yourself into him.

“Please, baby,” you whine, making your best puppy eyes in the mirror at him. “Please, I need you to touch me.” You’re so desperate he doesn’t even need to ask you to beg.

“Do you think you deserve to be touched?” He responds, continuing his teasing, “You’ve been quite a bad girl tonight, baby. And bad girls don’t get what they want.”

“I’ll be good, I promise,” you beg even more, tears forming at your eyes with the desperation he’s built in you.

“Prove it,” Matty responds, trailing his hand up to your mouth. You gladly take his digits in, watching as he toys with you and stretches you out, wishing he would do that in other places. You hear the clinking of his belt, and you perk up, thinking that maybe he’s just going to put you out of your horny misery and fuck you already, but of course he’s not.

“Can’t have you getting yourself all over my nice trousers now can we love?” He says as he pulls his pants down to his ankles. You watch still with all four of his fingers in your mouth as he takes his newly naked thigh and roughly slots it in between your legs from behind. Your eyes roll back at the much-needed friction it provides. Matty leans in, “Right then. Be a good girl and ride my thigh, hm? You’re gonna have to get yourself off before I believe you after tonight’s theatrics.”

Embarrassing as it may be, you are in no condition to care in this moment. You immediately start feverishly fucking your boyfriend’s thigh, moaning around his fingers at the friction you’ve been needing all night, a ball already forming in the pit of your stomach. Not more than a second after your head falls forward in relief, your boyfriend grabs you by your hair to force you to look in the mirror, “Nuh-uh” he growls, “You’re gonna watch while you fuck yourself on my thigh. You’re gonna see just how pathetic you are, crying with relief and coming undone when I’ve not even touched you.”

Matty’s words and the sight of him and you in the mirror add to the very quickly growing warmth in your body. Your skin is on fire as you grip the sink in front of you, trying to use whatever leverage you can to get yourself off faster. You take one hand to start kneading your tits, playing with your nipples, hoping some added stimulation will help; you whine at the new sensation.

“There you go princess, that’s it,” he coos in your ear, “so good f’me, taking directions so well baby.”

The praise goes straight to your core and you can feel yourself clench around nothing. Matty can tell by your breathing that you’re close, so he grabs you by your hips to help you, moving you back and forth on his thigh, assisting in your rhythm. “Come on my thigh,” he demands in your ear; and you do. That white-hot pleasure you’ve been chasing since you saw your boyfriend on the red carpet this afternoon finally washes over you. But it’s not enough.

Matty takes his fingers out of your mouth but keeps you firm against him. As you come down from your high, you look at him in the mirror desperately. Your orgasm was, well, an orgasm, but you know it could be so much better if he would just fuck you.

“Matty please,” You whine, still making sweet eye contact, “Baby, I need more.”

Matty nods his head in the direction of the door. “Put your dress on, love,” You think you might cry, until he whispers in your ear, “I’m not done with you yet, princess.”

---------

Ahh!! Should I write a pt. two when the couple gets home?? Thank y'all for reading my first smut omfg I can't believe I did this...

[storiesfromafan]

Moments #1 - Mattheo x Reader

A/N: thought I'd change it up, and post another short one-shot. Poor Matty is being deprived, but I'm struggling with inspo for him. So if anyone has any requests for Mattheo, my box is open haha.

Prompt: “When I picture you with a new lover I get angry, and then sad, then kinda horny”

It was a late Friday night. You and some of your Slytherin housemates had snuck out, and were currently lounging around the Astronomy Tower. Of course there was alcohol and weed, a specialty of Theodore, Lorenzo and – your boyfriend – Mattheo. It also mellowed everyone out.

You and Mattheo were cuddled up by a wall. Your body leaning into him, as one of his arms was around your shoulders. You rested your head in the crook of his neck. The effects of the weed finally hitting you. You were relaxed and just vibing. Mattheo was finishing off another can of beer. Before he placed a tender kiss to your head.

You smiled at his affectionate action. “Thank you" you said softly.

Mattheo chuckled. “Why are you thanking me, love?”

“You kissed my head, I was being polite" you replied, like it was common knowledge.

Mattheo softly laughed, holding you tightly. “You’re the first polite Slytherin I've ever met...”

You snorted when you laughed. “I'm the only polite Slytherin you've met".

“Hmmm, that's true" he said in amusement.

You both laughed at that. And falling into talking about random, pointless things. The weed finally hitting Mattheo, yet mixed with the alcohol. The conversation was light and airy. A perfect moment between you both. After sometime the conversation shifted to your relationship, it being all innocent.

Until you asked; “what do you picture when, if I end up with someone else?”

Mattheo moved to look at you, his eyebrow raised and a confused look on his face. “Should I be worried?”

You giggled. “No! It's just a silly question Matty...what's your answer?”

He sighed, mulling it over before giving his reply. As he had to be careful with his choice of words. “When I picture you with a new lover I get angry, and then sad, then kinda horny...”

You sat up and gave him a shocked look, before lightly slapping his chest. “I wanted a serious answer Matty".

He sat too. “I was serious, love".

It fell silent after that, for you weren't sure what to say. This was a whole other side of Mattheo you hadn't seen before. Your boyfriend found the thought of you and someone else hot. You didn't know if you should be upset, or find it appealing. Not that you liked the idea of some other girl with Mattheo, the Slytherin in you would want their blood, for taking what is yours.

“You alright?” Mattheo asked, bringing you from your thoughts.

You smiled sheepishly. “Y-yeah...but I can't say it would be the same for me".

“Oh? Why's that?” He asked, interested in your answer.

You smiled shyly. “Because you're mine. And if you left me for another girl, I'd go all Slytherin and I'd their want blood..."

Mattheo blinked, before a proud smile crossed his lips. “Of course, love" – he placed a kiss to your forehead – “I wouldn't have it any other way".

Pulling you to him, Mattheo leant back against the wall with you in his arms. It was where you both spent the night, snuggled up together and sharing kisses. You might be polite and sweet, but anyone touches your Mattheo, they will have to deal with the consequences.