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god-has-entered-my-body · 9 months ago

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Twist around the lounge - George Daniel & Matty Healy

A/N: i've been writing since 10am also this is barely spellchecked @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff ur a legendary beta thank u for fixing the fuckass formatting xx

wc: 5k

content warnings: super gay, smut, fluff, kissing, power dynamics, fingering, handjobs, blowjobs, begging, teasing, threesome, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, so gay, pain kink, cumplay, sub! matty, switch(?)! george, shy G oh my god, they get high moments before they fuck so tw for that, allusions to pegging (i reckon that isn't even a warning but better be safe xx)

“What happened to ‘girls don’t roll their own spliffs?’” George comments as you drag your tongue along the paper, the question directed at Matty. You roll your eyes dramatically, holding your hand as George passes you the lighter and you flick it on, rotating for an even burn. Matty shakes his head from across you, adjusting his legs under him he wipes his thumb on the glass of the coffee table.

“There's some things I'm willing to give up.” he settles on a vague answer, eyes darting over your face as you chuckle at the implication. Your legs shift over George’s lap to a more comfortable position as you take the first drag, letting the smoke curl around you in pretty patterns.

Passing the lit spliff to Matty, you pick at your nails as you let the hazy sensation take over your body, though it's not quite as strong as you’d like.

A soft breeze from the open window kisses your skin and you close your eyes, enjoying the feeling. George lets his arms splay out on either side in a relaxed manner, sucking in a deep breath as he watches Matty inhale the smoke, his eyes drooping closed when it hits him, a lazy smile spreading onto his face.

Matty blows an O in your direction and you catch it like a kiss, shooting him a wink. Too distracted by you looking at him, Matty manages to fumble the spliff, letting it drop into the sliver of skin exposed by the mid-length black skirt he’s wearing.

“Fuck– shit, fucking bullshit-” he curses, brushing hot ash off his leg, hissing in discomfort.

“Hm, I thought you liked pain?” you joke, eyeing him up and down in a teasing manner, giggling quietly. George perks up slightly at your words, his eyes darting between you and Matty.

“Not like that, you know well enough the type I enjoy.” he breathes, wiping his fingers on his skirt to rid them of the black residue from the ash, going to take another drag.

You expect a fucked off groan from George, the typical annoyed expression you’re used to replaced by one of undeniable intrigue, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. Matty looks up, a bit confused at the lack of conversation, a heavy silence falling over the three of you. George runs an unsteady hand through his hair as Matty blows smoke, his eyes getting visibly redder as the seconds tick by.

The silence is broken by George’s deep voice, timid and unsure.

“What do you mean he likes… uhm- pain?” The end of his sentence is punctuated by an uncharacteristic voice crack, your eyes narrowing at the odd question. It takes a few seconds for the words to finally register as Matty hands George the spliff, their hands lingering in a way that could be labeled as more than platonic if you looked close enough.

The more you look, the faster the gears in your head turn. You can see a thousand thoughts running through Matty’s mind as George stares at both of you, a faint blush dusting his cheeks at the obscenity of the question. It finally clicks for Matty when he sees him looking at the bit of skin visible over the collar of his shirt, littered with multicolored hickeys and bite marks.

“Oh you know, just like….” you trail off, moving your legs from their position on George’s lap, sitting up in a more normal position.

“I like it when she pulls my hair.” Matty’s bluntness almost makes you cringe, but the feeling of embarrassment is curbed by the look on George’s face, his lips parted in surprise at the answer. The curly haired boy smirks at you mischievously, eyes flicking between you and George, waiting for one of you to answer.

“Oh, uhm– thats-” George stutters, his voice incredibly meek right before Matty cuts him off.

“Really fucking hot? Yeah, mate, you wouldn't believe.” your eyes widen at the conversation being held right now, and you try to gather your words to steer it away from whatever this was, hoping and praying Matty hadn't spooked George into never wanting to speak to either of you ever again.

“Yeah, it is.” George breathes, no stutter in sight as Matty watches his every move, acting accordingly. In what feels like a fraction of a second, you suddenly feel the weight of a body in your lap, and it takes a moment to realize its Matty, straddling you like George isn’t sitting two fucking feet away from you.

His lips catch yours in a searing hot kiss, all tongue and teeth as our mouths work against each other, quiet wet sound filling the space as you feel George’s eyes on you, shamelessly staring.

“See? I was right.” Matty murmurs against your lips, vaguely gesturing in the direction of an incredibly flustered George, his confidence unfaltering. You pull away for a few moments, cocking your head in confusion as you see him set the spliff down in the corner of your eye, bright pink ashtray glimmering in the dim light.

“Our little Georgie here,” he cuts himself off with another peck to your bruised lips before continuing. “likes to watch, don't you, love?” The pet name makes George visibly twitch, Matty’s sultry words evoking something primal in him, something he’d never felt before. You feel his hand trail down your chest, grazing over your nipples as he caresses your skin, his touch tantalizing. Turning your head slightly, you see a sight that will be ingrained into your frontal lobe until the day you die. Georges nods, confirming Matty’s suspicions and you gasp as curls brush under your jaw, hot lips pressed to your collarbones.

The energy in the room shifts dramatically as George makes a move towards the two of you. He opens his mouth to speak once, twice, until he finally manages to force a string of words out.

“W-what else–” Matty stops, turning towards him with a look of encouragement, nodding at the clearly nervous blonde.

“What else does she– does she do..?” The question is directed at Matty, his eyes avoiding you at all costs, too shy to even look at you properly.

“Fuck, she makes me hurt so good, m’dizzy even thinking ‘bout it.”

George's breath hitches and you can tell he's turned on by the way Matty moans the words, grinning maniacally at the both of you, this whole situation like a dream come true for him.

“See this?” Matty hooks his fingers into the collar of his shirt, pulling it down to reveal a myriad of bruises and marks, flaunting them to George. You can see a small part of him wish George would touch him, run the rough pads of his fingers over his pale skin, maybe even press down onto the fresh splotches of color.

“Got a bit too annoying so she put me in my place, marked me up all pretty.” Endless nights spent holding him down, murmuring into his ear, your mouth attached to his throat as he whines spin in your head, the memories going straight between your legs as you absentmindedly spread them, and action not going unnoticed by Matty.

“Fucking hell.” George mutters, entranced by the scene in front of him, trying to convince himself he was dreaming. You don't even notice how close he really is until Matty grabs the edge of his half unbuttoned shirt, smashing his lips against his. A startled gasp escapes George before he melts into the kiss and Matty moans, licking into his mouth at a dizzying pace.

Your heart beats against your ribcage when George threads his dominant hand into his curls, tugging experimentally. The action is tentative, unsure, but Matty’s wanton groan spurs him on, a sudden rush of confidence making him pull harder, earning more sounds from him. A high pitched moan spills from Matty’s lips as George slips his tongue past them, the sight pornographic as you watch them, eyes darting between the two men.

Letting out a groan of protest when Matty pulls away, you catch the beginnings of a smirk right before George presses his lips to yours, his stubble scratching along your chin roughly. It feels different yet so, so fucking good as he groans into your mouth.

“Fuck, that's so hot.” Matty breathes, running his fingers through his hair, still perched in your lap as George continues kissing you frantically, wanting to feel every inch of your lips.

You barely notice Matty sinking to his knees while George keeps you busy, your eyes screwed shut tightly as a carnal desire takes over your body, lighting every fiber of it aflame. Both of them can visibly see how worked up you are the moment Matty slides your shorts down your thighs, your hips lifting to help him out. There's a visible wet patch on the front of your panties, one that makes George gasp when he sees it, breaking the kiss.

“Oh, don't stop on my account.” Matty pouts, not liking this you-and-George-not-kissing turn of events. George catches your lips again, the kiss searing hot as his hand finds your jaw, his chest pressed up to the side of your body.

“Gorgeous, isn't she?” you giggle at Matty’s words, letting one of your hands thread through his hair as he mouths along your thigh, licking over your clothed cunt. His fingers play with the hem of the cotton, making you shiver at the coldness of his fingers against your skin.

“You should see him in a bit of silk, takes your fucking breath away.” you whisper to George, quietly wondering if he did have a pretty little number on under that skirt of his.

“Fuck, seriously?” George says, almost to himself, looking down and locking eyes with Matty. Matty rests his cheek on your thigh, his fingers slowly pushing the fabric of your panties to the side.

“Shame I didn't have time to prepare, would've even gotten those pretty little garters out. Love those, don't you?” You nod, smiling at George as the mental image flickers in front of his eyes, fantasies running wild in his mind.

You feel rough fingers against the skin of your stomach, and you realize what the blonde is hinting at.

“Can I..” he trails off before he can even finish his sentence and you nod, urging him to rid you of the unnecessary material. A choked gasp spills from his lips when he realizes the lack of bra under your top, his hands shamelessly groping your tits as you moan, fingers toying with your nipples meanly.

His mouth finds the space between your tits, leaving aggressive marks in his wake as Matty watches the scene in front of him unfold, licking his bottom lip. Matty’s fingers dip under your underwear, applying pressure to your clit making your hips buck upward, searching for more pleasure as Matty grins up from below you.

“Fuck– you’re so tight.” he murmurs as his digits sink into you, stroking against your walls at a dizzying pace, your head spinning at the blinding ecstasy.

A desperate moan escapes you as George feels you up, your chest looking eerily similar to Matty’s as your nails dig into the cushions of the sofa, your feeble attempt at grounding yourself. Matty presses soft kisses to the inside of your thigh as you writhe under his touch, sucking lightly and leaving similar marks to George, if not a bit less harsh.

“Matty, please– m’so close.” you whine, cut off by George’s lips against yours, all the oxygen in your lungs being knocked out of them in a split second, leaving you feeling weightless. Your vision is blurry as your orgasm approaches, the coil in your belly winding impossibly tight as Matty’s hand reaches up to graze your stomach reassuringly. A rough hand grabs yours and you open your eyes fully to realize it's George’s, smiling softly as Matty brings you to that delicious edge.

You cum with a whimper of his name, gripping the blonde’s hand so tightly you might've cut off the blood supply to his fingertips, pleasure washing over you in tidal waves, your hips unabashedly grinding down onto Matty’s fingers.

It takes a few minutes for you to properly come to, your chest heaving with effort as Matty kisses your thighs sweetly, gazing up into your eyes. A beat of silence passes between the three of you as you and Matty exchange silent conversation, George blinking rapidly at what he had just witnessed. He still felt like he was dreaming, his whole body floating above the mortal plane as you move to get up, Matty shuffling to the side to make his way between George’s legs, giving you space to do the same.

“You don't have to– I can just-” he stutters, so unsure of himself it's adorable, his face flushed a deep shade of red. You smile to yourself as Matty speaks, his confident tone having a visible effect on the boy above you.

“Do you want us to? Because I want you both so fucking bad.” Matty’s hands grope George's thighs, playing with the buckle of his belt cheekily as he peers up at him, his eyes dancing with desire.

“Let him take these off you, hm?” You trace your fingers over his stomach where his shirt had ridden up slightly, making him twitch. The movement reminds you of Matty, yet still starkly different.

“Yeah, okay– fuck.” he groans as delicate hands unbuckle his belt, the clinking of metal making your heart thrum in your chest in anticipation. Matty’s fingers start unbuttoning his jeans, stealing a glance at your face, signaling you to take over. George’s cock is hard, precum leaking from his tip as he strains against his grey boxers, a sight you commit to memory

Matty’s now free hands grip the back of your head, pulling you into a messy kiss, so clearly for show it makes your head spin at the mere implication that George was getting turned on from watching you. Your hand finds the front of George’s boxers, palming his cock through them as soft groans fill the room, his legs shaking at the sudden stimulation.

“So ready for us, hm? Should've done this earlier if it got me that.” Matty gestures to the blonde's face, scrunched up in ecstasy as you take him out of the confines of his underwear, fisting the base of his cock. Settling into a more comfortable position on your knees, you take the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it as George gasps, screwing his eyes shut in pleasure.

Matty takes the few spare seconds to grab at the hem of his shirt, sliding it off of him to reveal his bare chest, glistening with sweat and adorned in tattoos. The sight of him half naked never ceases to make you stutter, the low rise of his skirt only adding to the inherent erotic energy surrounding him.

It takes effort to take all of him into your mouth, Matty watching intently as you choke, sputtering on his cock with spit dribbling down your chin obscenely.

“Look how well she’s taking you, feels so fucking good I bet.” Matty reaches down to touch himself to the scene in front of him, letting his face fall onto one of George's thighs. Soft whimpers and moans spill from his lips, barely audible over George’s masculine groans, the juxtaposition making you feel lightheaded as one of his hands finds its way to the top of your head, resting there.

“Please– fuck, feels so good. Keep doing tha- ohhh shit, fuck.” The head of his cock hits the back of your throat, making you gag. Matty presses an encouraging hand to your lower back. One glance up makes your breath hitch. George isn’t looking at you, but at Matty, his hand disappearing under the waistband of his velvety skirt, squeezing himself through his underwear. The air is charged with lust, the eye contact between the two men so intense you can feel it in your bones.

Matty’s eyes are glazed over with desperation, the sight of you getting George off fulfilling every fantasy he’s ever had. He’s sure nothing could ever top this, silently begging this wouldn't be the last time it would happen. Matty brushes strands of hair out of your face, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek as you deepthroat George, tears threatening to spill at the effort.

You feel his cock twitch in your mouth, a low groan following as his hand goes slack in your hair, his hips bucking involuntarily. Sincere apologies spill from his lips and you pull off him, wiping your mouth and assuring him everything was alright, offering him a sickeningly sweet smile like you didn't just have his cock down your throat.

“Make him cum, darling, I wanna see him cum– shit.” Matty whines, eyes begging you. You nod, a smirk spreading onto your face as you take George back into your mouth, his immediate groans of pleasure letting you know just how close he really is. Matty watches as you manage to not gag, making George throw his head back in ecstasy, moaning your name like a prayer.

The thing that finally does him in? Matty’s hand grazing over the skin of his arm, making him spill into your mouth with a cry, the musky taste of his cum filling your senses. George shakes, actually shakes at the force of his orgasm, hair sticking to his forehead. An idea pops into your head moments before you swallow, and you turn your head to Matty, tapping his bottom lip with your index finger.

Matty’s eyes widen as he realizes what you want to do, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he opens it. You let cum drop into his mouth, some of it missing and hitting his lips, a pornographic moan ripping itself from Matty’s throat at the salty, distinct taste of George.

“Love tasting you on my tongue, shit.” Matty mutters at George, growing impossibly harder at the eroticism of it all, his cock visibly tenting his skirt.

You lick a stripe up the side of his neck, bringing your wet lips to his ear and whispering into it.

“Get up on the sofa for me baby, let's get you off.” you speak, your words sultry and coated with thick honey, making both Matty and George shiver.

The curly haired boy nods frantically at your request, scrambling up to find his seat next to George, still panting from his recent orgasm, and the proximity to Matty definitely not helping his current state. You let out a sigh Matty knows all too well, searching your expression to decode what you really meant. It clicks for him when your eyes flicker over to George’s lap, grinning wildly as he clocks it, draping one of his legs over George in a heartbeat.

Using his body weight to hoist himself to a sitting position, he relishes in the surprised sounds George makes, stuttering over his words while trying to process the events unfolding. Something shifts when Matty makes direct eye contact with him, that sight probably the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

“God, you’re so pretty.” George mutters, his lips inches away from Matty’s as they both breathe heavily.

“He is, isn't he?” you grin, your thoughts running wild as your eyes dart around the space, your breath hitching when they land on the discarded leather belt right in front of you, innocent and unassuming.

Matty is the one who initiates the kiss, immediately taking George’s bottom lip between his teeth, biting down meanly as the blonde gasps into his mouth, pupils completely blown out. Both of them are completely breathless, too caught up in each other to notice you get up and circle around to stand behind Matty, leather in hand.

Matty’s eyes fly open when he feels you grab his arms suddenly, the belt clamped between your teeth as you pull them back, a small yelp spilling from his lips. George notices your movements, knitting his eyebrows in confusion before he realizes that you’re restraining him, the thought making his heart race. The metal clinking is deafeningly loud as his movement is restricted, a high-pitched whine leaving Matty.

“He loves this, look at how hard he is.” you say, your lips pressed to George’s ear as Matty’s hips twitch, bucking up against nothing, desperate for any kind of friction. He’s been hard for the better part of an hour now, watching and talking but never getting off. You see George hesitate, his hand ghosting over the bulge under his skirt while Matty yearns for his touch, eyes pleading with both of you simultaneously.

“Touch him baby, promise he doesn't bite.” you coo, letting your fingers linger on the leather, tracing the small designs of the belt.

“Unless you want me to.” he bites his lip at George, earning a chuckle from both you and him. The lip bite, despite being ironic, still made something in you stir.

“I don’t know how– i’ve never-” George whispers, deathly afraid of messing up, afraid of ruining this perfect moment.

“It's alright love, just–” Matty speaks, cocking his head in a sweet manner as George looks at him, red dusting his otherwise pale cheeks.

“Do what you do to yourself when you’re alone, yeah?” Matty reassures him, writhing against the restraints as George tentatively palms his cock over the velvety material.

The thought of George getting himself off is something you file away for later, the mental imagine making the heat between your legs grow exponentially, and you squeeze your thighs together to relieve some of that pressure.

“Ah, fuck.” Matty whimpers, and you see the blonde flipping the fabric of his skirt up against his stomach, the clothing bunching up at his waist.

“Look how much he wants you, basically begging for you to get him off.” you speak slowly, drinking in the scene in front of you with a primal hunger, the bulge in Matty’s boxers adorned with a wet patch on the front of them.

“So responsive, isn’t he?”

Matty whimpers as George finally reaches into his boxers, taking him out and wrapping a hand around his leaking cock, beads of precum bubbling at the tip. George mirrors the movements he uses on himself, eyes searching the other boy’s expression for any sign of discomfort. Instead, he’s met with a blissed out Matty, face contorting in pleasure as George’s hand works him, using his precum as lube.

“Hear that?” you speak, taking in Matty writhing against George, wet lips parted as his eyes droop shut in ecstasy, wanton whines filling the room. You can see abandoned spliff in the ashtray across from you, last remnants of smoke curling in the air as the weed goes to waste, reminding you of how this situation even came to be.

“Those are the same noises he makes when I fuck him.” Your inflection makes the sentence all the more erotic as George stares at both of you wide-eyed, scenes playing out in his mind like a film.

“Y-you-” He stutters and you nod, Matty’s face flushing in a way you don't quite recognise. He’s embarrassed. A smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth as you realize this, finally finding his Achilles heel. That spot was George.

“Yeah, and he takes it, takes whatever I give him. He’ll take whatever you give him, too.” A choked whine leaves Matty’s lips as you speak about him like he isnt even there. He leans forward, resting his cheek in the crook of George’s neck as he makes eye contact with you, fucking panting like a dog in heat.

“Shit, your hand feels so fucking good.” Matty whimpers, his cock twitching in George's grip as he speeds up his movements, basking in the curly haired boy's praise. Sweat makes Matty’s curls stick to his forehead, his bare chest glistening in the dim light of the living room. You watch as George gets him off, so blatantly turned on by the boy in his lap that it's genuinely laughable.

“Let me see you, wanna see your pretty face.” George mutters against Matty’s hair, catching you both by surprise. Matty pulls back, a clear look of arousal at the boy’s words, his lips parted in a way that shows you he’s so, so close to the edge it's physically painful for him.

“Make me cum, please– i’m so fucking close, feels so good, G, fuckk.” Matty braces himself as you trail your fingers up and down his spine, shivers blooming through his whole body as his orgasm rushes at him full throttle. George’s hand squeezes his cock roughly, the slight note of pain sending white-hot pleasure straight to Matty’s lower half, making him moan desperately as George murmurs against his jaw.

The audible sounds of frustration as Matty pulls at the belt restraining his arms is incredibly hot, your tongue darting out to lick a stripe along his throat as he gasps, the stimulation feeling like pure heaven

“That's it, baby, let go for us, doing so well.” George groans, his commanding tone of voice sending Matty hurling over the edge, his orgasm crashing over him so violently tears start to stream down his face as he cums all over George’s stomach and his own, panting their skin as you watch, a soft noise slipping past your lips.

George works Matty through his high, watching every reaction, expression, and movement he offers him, his hand steadily slowing down as Matty’s full body twitches subside, high.pitched pants and whines spilling from his lips as he closes his eyes, basking in the afterglow.

“Fuck- that was.”

“The hottest thing you’ve ever seen?” You smirk, finishing his sentence for him with a cheeky wink. It takes a few beats for George to fully come down from his power trip, eyes darting between you and Matty as he registers the compromising position he is currently in. You notice his slight panic, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder, acting as his tether to reality.

“Is this going to happen again?” The question is heavy on the three of you for a moment, but eye contact with Matty tells you he already has an answer.

“Do you want it to?” Though he is still restrained, Matty is as cocky as ever, raising his eyebrows at George in a teasing manner. You watch as George gathers his words, your heart thrumming against your ribcage in anticipation.

“That depends,” George says, sounding confident.

“Depends on what?” Matty cocks his head and you mirror the movement, equally as confused at his statement. The curly haired boy is still out of breath, his panting ruining the calm and collected demeanor he tries so desperately to portray.

“Depends if you take it as well as she says you do.” he gestures to you, your smirk growing as Matty flushes a deep shade of crimson, squirming under George’s touch as he rests his hands on his velvet covered hips. You chuckle quietly before answering, making deliberate eye contact with George and George only.

“Oh trust me, my sweet G, he does.”

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somethingaboutyou-beingyou · 10 months ago

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shout out to @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff cause you’re out here liking every single persons post AND hyping people up. whether these people are writing, drawing, or just existing, you’re always there to hype them up and support them. you are greatly appreciated in this community. you’re also kind as fuck which is hard to find these days. i love seeing you around and i hope to continue seeing you spread love and joy.

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k4tie75 · 4 months ago

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Pookie? 😭 @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff

#tumblr is def tweaking but like this is so funny to me omg 😭😭#katie talks alot #moots 🤍

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girlm0ss · 10 months ago

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Thanks for tagging me @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff and @medeas-chariot

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟

search your name + core on Pinterest and post the 6 pictures

Tagging : @mumblingcrumpet @roeswater @iregretbeingherewheniwas10 @shinypetrichor @irllydontgetit @heavenfalls @patchworkgargoyle (only if you want too ofc and sorry I made a new post.. the other was sooo long)

#tag game #my silly little life

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god-has-entered-my-body · 9 months ago

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@beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff look im going to sob now.

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bedforddanes75 · 8 months ago

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were you before-you-go-turn-the-big-light-off? (or some URL like that)

i was !! (beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff !!) unfortunately george daniel possessed me and made me change it

#i want beforeyougo back kind of but no im committing to this now #blah blah!#asks!#not 75 stuff

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god-has-entered-my-body · 9 months ago

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Facedown - Matty Healy

A/N: I don't shag men irl, so soz if there are any inaccuracies regarding the ins and outs of anal xx thank you to my mates @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff, @man-im-so-high and @awellposhmagazine for indulging in my stupid questions and mental breakdowns in the GC❤️

wc: 7k

content warnings: smut, fluff, dirty talk, pegging, praise, also a bit of degradation depending on how you look at it, use of sex toys (strap), mentions of lingerie/matty in womens clothing, sex shops, spit, masochism, cursing, polaroids/cameras, so picture kink?, girlie immortalizes him in a picture let it be poetic

“I want you to fuck me.”

You choke on air. Matty is a blunt person, always has been, never really caring for beating around the bush. You didn't mind it, but you feel like he could’ve worded that a bit more eloquently. He’s laying on top of you, hair tickling the bottom of your chin, curls obstructing a bit of your vision.

“Okay, fucking hold up, what?” you're convinced you've misheard him. Even he wouldn't be that blunt. He takes a deep breath, his tone slow and condescending

“I said, I want you to fu-” you hit him, giggling in disbelief. He jumps back in surprise, a grin spreading onto his face. He was actually serious.

“I fucking heard what you said, jesus.” Matty has this look in his eye when he’s about to do something he knows you won't like, this glimmer in his eye, and you see it so clearly. His hand grabs your face, licking across your cheek, starting from the edge of your jaw. You squirm away, wiping your skin with your hand, throwing curses at him.

“Fuck's sake, you're like a dog. Behave and I'll give you a treat, christ.”

“Depends on what the treat is.” he winks at you, grinning widely as you screw your eyes shut in annoyance. He just wouldn't let up, like it would kill him to be PG for even five seconds.

“So?” he asks, referring to his original statement.

‘I want you to fuck me.’

His words echo through your head, making all sorts of images flash in front of your eyes. Of course he notices, trailing his fingers up your bare arm, making goosebumps kiss your skin in his wake.

It's hard to even think straight, the suddenness of the question making your head spin. The two of you had never talked about it before, thinking it wasn't even on the table.

“Are you- are you sure?” you stutter out, a small part of you scared he was joking, trying to see how you would react. His answer makes you sigh in relief.

“Never been more sure.'' He's smiling, a genuine, reassuring smile.

“Actually?”

“No, I meant metaphysically, philosophically-” he deadpans, but it takes only a few seconds for him to crack up laughing, burying his face into your chest, trying to stifle his giggles.

You breathe out, weaving a gentle hand through his hair, guiding him up to kiss you, lips locking as he gasps softly. You stay like that for a while, kissing and holding each other, neither wanting to let go.

“You're mental.” you mumble when he pulls away, brushing a small strand of hair out of your eyes, sweetly tucking it behind your ear.

“Yet, you love me.” It's so perfect. His body is warm against yours, acting as a sort of weighted blanket, pressing you into the sofa. The scent of his perfume is strong, tinged with a hint of the spliff you’d both smoked earlier.

—-------------------------------------------------------------

You can tell he’s never been in an actual sex shop by the was his eyes widen when you enter, flicking between the multitude of displays and posters, having no idea where or what to look at. His hand grasps yours, one goal in mind as you both step inside, heading towards a specific aisle. Strap-ons.

Even if it was his first visit, he seems immediately at home, casually browsing through strap-ons and vibrators like he was in a department store, looking at lampshades or containers. At some point, you manage to break away from him, finding yourself in the lingerie section, lace and silk and satin surrounding you on all sides. Your fingers graze over a specific pair of green lace panties, the material soft to the touch.

Your mind goes back to that night, to the memory of Matty, on your bed, shirtless and panting, the only thing concealing him a pair of lacey black womens underwear. You wonder if he’d be into it, buying more stuff like that, or if he maybe had more back home, hidden in a secret corner of his drawer.

You're snapped back into reality by a repetitive tap on your shoulder, turning around to see it was Matty. He was holding something in his hand; a light purple, see through strap, decorated with specks of glitter and incredibly detailed. You blush at the sight, before remembering where you actually were. It looked big in his hands, intimidating almost.

“This one’s pink and glittery! Fucking awesome, who knew they had so many types?” he booms, holding it up right in front of your face. A few people turn, but most ignore his loud proclamation, going back to their own shopping.

“You're so girly, Jesus christ.” you snigger, stifling a crude laugh. It was so Matty, always one to pick the most extravagant, out of the ordinary, even when it came to sex toys.

“Don’t make me fucking start-” he threatens, and you promptly cover his mouth with your palm, staring deep into his eyes.

“Shut it.” and to your surprise, he did.

He goes back to the isle he came from, looking for more options. You’d expected it to be more uncomfortable, but you felt light, like anything was on the table. Seeing him move out of your sight, you turn back to the fabric you’d been admiring earlier, running your fingers over it, and out of the corner of your eye, something shiny catches your attention. Garters.

Your core stirs at the thought of Matty in garters, maybe even stockings or heels. You wonder if he’d even be into it, or if that was where his adventures in femininity ended. Lost in your fantasies, you don't even realize you’d picked something up. A black garter, little heart details making it sparkle in the low light of the shop, leather and metal cool against your skin.

“Oh?” you hear a teasing voice say from behind, making you jump slightly. Clutching the object between your fingers, you spin around, eyes meeting Matty’s, and he has this filthy grin on his face, knowing he’s caught you.

“What's this?” he takes it from your hand, looking at it closely. His eyes light up when he realizes what it is, or more, who it's for. Matty’s ego inflates as he dangled in front of you, relishing in your flustered reaction, a blush creeping onto your face.

“Is this meant for me?” he asks, pressing it onto his thigh over his jeans, trying to figure out how it would look. He moves to the mirror located off to the side to get a better look, admiring himself in the mirror.

“You don't have to- it's just an idea.” you say defensively, scared he’ll find it weird or odd or-

“It's a wonderful one. Do tell me more, darling.” his hand trails up your arm, landing on your shoulder. You don't have time to react as he pulls you in for a kiss, short and hot. A suggestion.

You stare at him for a few moments, not sure how to react.

“What else do you want to see me in? This, perhaps?” he struts over to the lingerie section, picking up a pair of silk panties, showing them to you. You nod your head, earning a sly grin and a wink from Matty as he puts them into his little basket.

“Or are you more of a lace kinda gal?” There's a hint of tease in his voice as he holds up another pair. The green pair.

Your breath hitches as he stares at you, looking for a reaction, smiling victoriously when he sees it. Raising his eyebrows, he wordlessly adds them to the growing pile of merchandise he’s accumulated in the short span he’d been wandering around the store.

“Fucking hell.” you mutter under your breath as he grabs your hand, dragging you over to the garters. It all seems unreal, the way he confidently shows off the pieces over his clothes, ‘modeling’ for you in front of other shoppers, utterly shameless.

“I'll wear it for you, you just have to tell me what you want.” he parrots your words back at you. ‘Just tell me what you want, Matthew’

If only he knew.

“You look pretty in everything Matty, I'd rather you pick.”

“And I'd rather you be turned on, hm? C’mon, tell me, I don't bite.” you giggle a bit at his choice of words, the marks on your neck contradicting his statement.

“You like it when I'm pretty for you?” he whispers into your ear, the words going straight to your core. Your knees feel weak, ready to buckle at any moment if he keeps talking like that.

Nodding frantically, you press a small kiss to his lips, taking his hand. You lead him to the shoes, heels and boots of all heights and colors stacked neatly in piles against a wall.

“Oh, I'm liking this turn of events.” he grins, hands reaching out to touch a specific pair of black platforms, adorned with small gemstones along the strap. You had a similar pair, knowing just how hard they were here to walk in.

“You are?” you question, feeling his free hand wrap around your waist, bringing the shoes up for you to touch, the leather rough under your fingertips.

“You turn me on so much it fucking hurts. I love being your little fantasy, all dolled up for you.” he speaks slowly, quiet enough so that only you can hear. You cough, almost choking on air as he adds the shoes to the basket, walking off as though nothing happened.

“This one?” he asks, holding up another toy. A pale pink strap-on, less glittery than the last one, but still incredibly eye-catching. You eye him up and down, the way he stood like he was holding the most normal thing ever appalling you.

“You sure?” he nods enthusiastically, eyes silently begging you to say yes. “Imagine how pretty i’d look, imagine the pictures-”

Oh, he loved to tease you about those, your collection of filthy polaroids growing larger and larger the longer you were together, stashed at the bottom of your nightstand.

“Sure you can take it?'' The expression on his face is priceless as you fight fire with fire, his grin vanishing, being replaced with an embarrassed blush dusting his face.

He wordlessly adds it, walking off in the direction of the till. You follow closely, watching him take a bottle of lube (strawberry flavored, because it's Matty) from the shelf, placing it in the basket.

It was all so new, uncharted territory for both of you. Sure, he teased and you teased back, throwing witty retorts at each other until one eventually gave up, but you were both equally nervous and excited, the idea absolutely thrilling.

The bus ride back home is slightly awkward, the bags in your hands adorning the very obvious logo of the sex shop you’d just been in, earning judging glances from strangers. Matty remains unbothered, engrossed in an old edition of vogue he’d bought at check out. You watch him leaf through the pages, inspecting outfits and designs, muttering when he doesn't agree with them. It was endearing, watching him critique world famous fashion designers, like his opinion would hold and weight in a proper argument.

200 quid was what the trip had cost you, spending way more than you had planned. Matty had paid for it with his parents' money that they sent to him every so often, wanting him to be able to live comfortably even if they were away. You felt sort of bad, offering to use your own cash, quickly being swatted away by an insistent Matty.

“I have to pay, seeing as I am a gentleman. Besides, you're going to be taking great care of me later, so-” you manage to cut him off with a stealth elbow in the ribs, sparing the poor cashier from one of his terribly inappropriate rants.

—----------------------------------------------------

Home is comfortable, much unlike the harsh summer weather and the beating sun that waited for you outside. Unlocking the door, you've met with the soft hum of the air conditioner, the cool air kissing your skin. Matty lets out a relieved sigh as he finally sets down the bags, stretching his arms over his head. You catch a glimpse of his lower stomach, a small trail of hair traveling from his belly button and into the waistband of his pants, which were hung obscenely low on his hips.

“Do you want to-” you're cut off by Matty’s lips on yours, one hand gripping onto the base of your neck, the other pulling you in by the waist. Despite being almost three inches taller, you manage to overpower him quickly, pressing him into the wall behind him. He gasps against your lips, his fingers digging into your hips as you grasp him by the hair, tugging him down to meet you.

“Desperate, much?” you say condescending, one of your fingers trailing down the hollow of his throat, grazing the skin enough to leave a faint red mark.

He loved seeing the aftermath of you on his body, and you’ve caught him admiring himself in the mirror more than once, running his fingertips over the bruises and scratches, reliving the moments that caused them. It's not like he left you bare, either, the complete opposite, actually. Your neck was full of hickeys in various colors, some more faded than others.

He loved using his teeth, and had once left an incredibly obvious bite mark on the skin just above your collarbone, getting disgusted and borderline traumatized looks from both Ross and George. Adam never did mention i, but you caught him stealing glances at both of you, his tell tale ‘what the actual fuck did you do’ look on his face.

“You’re one to talk, don’t think I didnt see how you looked at me back there.” he smirks against your lips, tongue swiping along your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth. You use your body weight to hold him up against the wall, pressing a knee right between his legs, a move he loved to use on you, and watching you grind against him is his favorite sight in the whole world.

His hips buck against your lower half, his hard-on brushing up against your thigh. He groans at the slight friction, repeating the action until you stop him.

“Please, fuck- please.” he breathes, eyeing the bag on the ground behind you with a look of pure lust on his face.

Your knees feel weak, your stomach flipping as he reaches out to touch your face, trailing his fingers down your jaw and onto your neck, lovingly pressing kisses all over your skin, almost as if to try and convince you of something.

Wordlessly, you grab him by the collar of his shirt, leading him down the long hallway and up the stairs, almost tripping. You near the bedroom, unable to take your hands off each other as he pathetically whimpers into your mouth, nails clawing at your back.

The door swings open and you push him forward until the back of his knees hit the bed, making him fall onto it.

“Been thinking ‘bout this for a while, haven't you?” he nods slowly, chest heaving from the sheer force of your kiss, leaving him breathless.

“You can’t imagine.” he answers, eyes looking up at you from his spot on the bed, wide and full of want.

“So pretty.” you whisper to yourself, reaching down to push his shirt up, revealing that little bit of hair on his stomach, so incredibly sexy it made your head spin.

“Take your shirt off for me, I'll be back.” you kiss him again, softly this time, not even looking at his reaction before turning around and disappearing through the door. Your legs carry you as fast as they can go, taking two steps at a time as you race downstairs, eyes settling on the hot pink paper bag left abandoned on the floor.

Rifling through the pile of various clothes, underwear, gags, toys; really anything you could think of, your breath hitches as your fingers brush against cold resin. Of course it was made of resin, ridiculously expensive as well, typical Matty. You laugh to yourself, taking a close look at the toy in your hands.

It was pale pink, hyper realistic veins running down the sides of it, the actual strappy part a deep purple, almost black. Your heart thrums against your ribcage, almost forgetting one vital thing: the lube.

The sight before you open the door again is one that should be chiseled into stone and hung up for thousands of years. Matty is on the bed, further up so that his head is resting on the metal bed frame up against the wall, it being more comfortable that way. His shirt is off, just like you had told him.

One thing made you freeze. His hand was covering his lower half, palming his obvious hard on through his insanely tight jeans. It looked painful, well hidden by the filthy smirk that tugged at the corners of his lips, making your heart skip a beat.

“Kept me waiting.'' His voice is low, raspy, and desperate, even if he tries to play it off. You move without thinking, watching his eyes flicker over to the toy in your hand, which you place onto the bed out of his reach.

“Not my fault you can't go five seconds without touching yourself.” you shoot back, kneeling onto the soft mattress.

“Sort of is, isn't it?” he sounds playful, almost giddy as you catch his lips in a kiss.

“You were begging so nicely before, what happened?” you fake pout at him, putting on a slightly condescending tone as he rolls his eyes at you.

“I caught my breath.” he says, hands settling on your hips as you straddle him properly, his aching cock grinding against the curve of your ass. It feels amazing, your ego swelling as you take him in, needy and wanting for you and you only.

“Yeah?”

“Might have to take it again.”

You get what he’s playing at immediately, reaching up to wrap your hand around his throat. Matty lets out a choked gasp, eyes widening at the sensation.

“Fuck-” he’s cut off by you pressing down harder, watching all the blood in his head rush down south.

“What? Couldn't quite hear you, speak up.” you taunt, loving watching him struggle to answer you, all that came out being needy gasps and curses.

“Please-” his breath hitches when you reach down to skillfully unbutton his pants with one hand, silently thanking the gods above he had decided to forgo a belt today, peeling the jeans off of him. He lets out a choked moan as you grip him through his boxers, wishing he had worn a pair of women’s panties, knowing it would rile you up even more.

“What? Use your words, Matthew, tell me what you want.” you tease, ignoring his silent begging, only slightly letting go of his throat, scared he wasn't properly getting oxygen.

“Touch me, please.” he manages to force out, tears of relief welling up in his eyes when you take him out of his boxers, stroking his cock lightly.

“This all for me? All because of that toy? Filthy, filthy boy.” his mind blanks, ecstacy overtaking his body and mind, the only thing he could think of was how fucking lucky he was. The strap is only visible in the corner of your eye as you kiss him hard, slipping your tongue into his mouth, drinking in every little gasp.

You dig your thumb into his slit, his hips arching off the bed and into your hand, spurts of precum leaking out of his tip. You smile at his reaction, one question still running through your mind. This was all so new, and you were riffing off of what you already knew he liked, trying to build up as much tension as possible.

“Have you done this before?” he takes a second to answer, slowly nodding his head. You motion for him to elaborate. A pang of insecurity rushes through you at the thought of him doing this with someone else, another person seeing him like this. You push it all down, turning your full attention to Matty.

“Only alone, trying some things out..” his voice is uncharacteristically small, eyes avoiding you as he stutters over the second part of his sentence, clearly a bit embarrassed.

“Oh yeah? Did it feel good?” you encourage him, desperate to make him feel as comfortable as possible. He smirks, and you can basically see the memories flash behind his eyes.

Alone, late at night. Curiosity striking, clothes hitting the floor of his old bedroom. A mess of lube and spit, fingers experimentally curling upwards and finally, finally hitting that perfect spot deep inside of him, making him moan into his pillow, trying to muffle the sound.

But of course, Matty has to do and say something so utterly stupid, it makes your eyes hurt from rolling them.

“It’ll feel so much better if you do it for me, darling. Treat me right and all, seeing as I am your girl-” you playfully hit his arm, effectively shutting him up. He wasn't fully wrong, but the way he worded it was purposefully supposed to make you cringe, your eyes screwing shut and hands going to cover your face in embarrassment.

“Shut up, what is your damage?” you ask, glaring at him as he tries his best to stifle his giggles. It's infectious, and soon you start laughing as well, falling into his arms, losing it at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Can you take nothing seriously?” It's a rhetorical question, but he still answers.

“Nothing.” he drags out the word, mocking you.

You take this opportunity to tug at his cock, wiping the smug grin directly from his face. It was satisfying, watching him go from cocky and borderline bratty, to a sweet, moldable putty in the palm of your hand, willing to do whatever you asked of him.

“A-ah oh fuck, i’m not gonna- stop.” he gasps, trying to push you off. You fight back, pinning him down using your entire body, your fingertips ghosting over his cock.

“Gotta get you ready to take me, don't want it to hurt, do you?” your voice drips with lust, relishing in the wanton sounds he lets out at your words. Matty looks at you, mouth slightly ajar as if trying to say something. You nod at him.

“I can- I can show you. If you want. We both know how much you like to watch me.” he gestures to the camera sitting on the nightstand, grinning from ear to ear.

“Go on.” you whisper, your voice cracking.

He flips around, and you use this little bit of time to slip your own clothes off, leaving your shirt and panties on, settling onto the bed behind him.

His hands reach for the bottle of lube, blindly feeling around for it. You hand it to him with a sickly sweet smile, making his stomach flip as he spreads his legs, a performative moan leaving his lips as he uncaps it with his teeth, pouring the liquid onto his fingers.

It's weird, seeing him in this position, facedown against the mattress, tugging his boxers down with his clean hand. He can feel your eyes on him, raking over his milky skin, watching him take a deep breath as the cool lube hits his skin.

“You look pretty.” you hear him snigger into the pillow at the breathlessness of your voice. “Right? Good genes, innit?” he says smugly, craning his head around to get a look at your annoyed expression.

“Oh fuck off.” you smack him on the arse, taking the piss out of his stupid comments.

He gasps, and now it's your turn to be smug, grazing your nails over the skin you’d just hit

“Seriously? That turned you on?” he nods, tracing his lube covered fingers over his hole, shivering a bit before pushing one in.

A string of moans and curses spill from lips, panting as his back arches at the intrusion. You watch him with wide eyes, taking every minuscule twitch of his body as he curls them slightly, going even deeper. You commit everything to memory, wanting this moment to last forever, and you reach out to trail your hands down his sides, digging your slightly grown out nails into his hips, making him moan into the pillows.

“Giving me a proper show then. Anything to get my attention, right?” you mumble, leaning over him as he fingers himself for you, groaning and twitching against the mattress, overcome with pleasure.

“It’s working isn't it?” he forces out, the feeling of your chest pressed to his back making his eyes roll back in his head, his tip leaking spurts of precum onto the sheets

“Fuck, yeah, its working.”

His fingers brush up against a certain spot inside of him and he quite literally shakes, arching and pushing down onto his digits, his body begging for more. You watch, entranced in every movement he makes, in a sort of daze.

You could sense him gaining back a sense of confidence when he peers back at you, seeing your blissed out expression at the sight of him fucking himself open for you, moans and whimpers going straight to the growing heat in your core.

“Wanna fuck me? Make me moan for you?” he teases, moving his lube covered hand to his cock, tugging at himself as you pull him closer. The strap next to you burns a hole into your brain, and you reach for it, hand gliding over the resin.

“Wanna take a pretty picture with that little camera of yours?” That was the final straw that made you scramble up, fumbling with the fastens of the toy, unbuckling them and slipping it over your underwear, the weight of it a bit strange.

“I’m going to make you eat those words.” you threaten, one of your hands threading through his hair, pulling his face up before dropping it back onto the pillows. He whimpers at the sharp pain radiating from his scalp, spreading all the way to his fingertips that clutch the sheets so tightly, his knuckles look pale white.

“It's what I'm counting on, darling.” he winks, arching his back towards you, grinding his arse against your strap. This was really happening. Sucking in a deep breath, you steady yourself on your knees, taking the toy into your hand, circling his hole with it. A sigh of pleasure leaves his parted lips as he relaxes into the bed, arse up and face buried into the dark blue fabric of his pillow.

The sound of the lube covering the strap is a bit awkward, and you both laugh lightheartedly, nervous and excited to do this with each other, to each other. He groans as you finally line up with his entrance, the tip teasing him as he bucks back onto it.

“Want me to go slow?” you ask, slightly nervous, scared of doing something wrong or god forbid, hurting him in any way.

“Fuck me slow, yeah?” His words drip with lust, raspy and deliberately drawn out. He notices your hesitation, and his hand reaches back to grab yours, rubbing reassuring circles into the skin of your palm.

“Jesus, you make it sound so filthy.” His vulgar words were nothing new, his cocky manner only another tool to get you to lose it on him, never showing mercy. Just like he liked it. Rough, hard, fast, never ending pleasure until both of you were fully satisfied.

“Stop being a tease and just fuck me.” he was now at the point of making demands, blatantly ignoring the imbalance of power between you. You tut at him, nails digging into the fat of his arse, making him wince in pain.

“Not in a place to be demanding things from me, are you now?” your tone is deliciously condescending, making his cock involuntarily twitch under him, begging for attention.

“You want it just as much as me.” he breathes loudly, a feeble attempt at trying not to sound as desperate as he really was, not wanting to admit defeat.

“Make me mess, fuck me dumb, I know you want to.” an animalistic groan rips itself from your throat as you push into him, feeling the smallest bit of resistance at first.

Remembering his little reaction from earlier, you experimentally smack the side of his arse, right where its curve meets the top of his thigh, and he shudders beneath you, crying out in pleasure. You don't know what you're doing, but you do gain a flicker of confidence when he grinds down against the bed, mumbling into the pillow. Asking him to speak up, his face is now visible as he moans, hips pushing back onto the toy as you pull back out, leaving him feeling empty.

You snap your hips forward, a bit harsher this time, watching and listening for his reaction, wanting to make it feel as good as possible for him. He was trusting you with the most intimate part of him, giving up almost all control as his arms go slack under him, nothing holding his body up anymore.

“Fuckk, that's so good.” he breathes as you set a delicate but even rhythm, speeding up a bit with every thrust as he slowly gets used to the sensation. It takes a few minutes of fucking him at an agonizing pace until you feel his whole body tense up, a choked moan spilling from his parted, spit covered lips. Your breath hitches at the sight of him drooling, eyes screwed shut in pure bliss.

“OH FUCKK- right there right there right there jesus christ, fuck-” he curses, clawing around him, trying to find something to bring him back down to reality as your strap brushes up against his G-spot. There's a wet patch on the bed under him, precum covering the blue fabric of the sheets.

“Sound so pretty, all for me.” you hit that same spot over and over as he pathetically cries out your name, begging for you to go faster.

“Please, it's so good, so good, fuck me please oh FUCK.” you oblige, gripping onto his hips as you slam back into him, his back arching sharply as you pant, your cheeks a bright red. Your whole body is flushes crimson, your cunt clenching around nothing as you get off to the sounds and movements he makes, your witty words getting caught in the back of your throat

You're so incredibly turned on that everything else disappears around you, your only focus being a desperate Matty under you, writhing in pleasure as he experiences actual heaven, his whole body covered in a thin layer of sweat, making him glow in the dim light of the bedroom.

Sinful sounds fills the bedroom, reverberating off the walls making you feel dizzy, partially from the effort and partially from the boy in your bed, whimpering your name betweens strings of curses, begging you to just fuck him harder.

Matty, though he hates it, is awfully predictable. He has cues that let you know when he’s close, his voice pitching up several octaves as you slam into him, never faltering.

You take the opportunity to press your chest against the curve of his back, hard nipples rubbing against his skin through your thin shirt. Your voice is low, whispering lewd promises against his ear, occasionally nibbling at the skin, sucking a hickey into it.

“Gonna cum for me? I can see you leaking all over the sheets, dirty boy” he cries at your words, tears of overwhelming pleasure streaming down his face, leaving small stains on the pillow.

“Yesyesyes please don’t stop- so close.” he begs, every part of his body twitching and tensing, so close to the edge he could taste it.

You don't know what possesses you. Maybe it was his comment from earlier, his tone playful and teasing, eyes dark with desire.

“Wanna take a pretty picture with that little camera of yours?”

It's like a foreign force taking over your body. You still, ignoring Matty’s pleas for you to keep going, his hips bucking wildly onto the toy still deep inside of him.

“No- nonono please, i was so close, fuck.” you click your tongue at him, effectively shutting him up

He winces when you move, hand reaching for something on the nightstand, not even realizing what you were doing. The plastic is heavy in your hands, black lense staring back at you as you reposition yourself behind Matty, the tip of your strap teasing his hole.

He thinks you’ll continue as normal, that you'll give him what he’s been craving this entire time. All he wants to do is cum, mind so clouded with desire that he could barely speak properly

Your hands threads into his hair, his neck limp as you pull him up by it. Your fingers find the shutter, knowing you had to act fast to get the result you so desperately wanted.

Pulling his head further back so his whole face was visible, you position the camera in front of it, the sight of the lense making Matty’s heart skip a beat.

Right as you take the picture, you violently snap your hips forward, thrusting into him at a brutal pace, making his face contort in ecstasy, mouth falling open, revealing a pink tongue between his lips.

The camera flash is disorienting for him, the shutter barely heard over his impossibly loud moans, the sounds making you feel weightless.

He lets out a high laugh as he fully gets what you’d just done, only proving his earlier point further. His little victory is interrupted by his impending orgasm, the combination of the pressure from your strap on his G-spot and the delicious friction of the sheets rubbing against his cock sending him into a lust driven frenzy.

His moans are high pitched, almost feminine as he buries his face into his slack arms, trying to bite back his noises. You tell him to quit it, demanding to hear every single cry that leaves his lips.

“You’re such a brat, acting like I cant have you fucking purring under me in the blink of an eye.” you speak, an intense feeling of power and control taking your body as you slam into him, licking up the skin of his bare neck, making him shudder under your touch.

“I promise i’ll be good- just please let me cum.” he’s a blubbering mess, tears rolling down his cheeks as you tug harshly on his hair, the pain only making it harder for him to hold off his orgasm.

“Please- I need it so bad- fuck, please.”

“Oh, you need it, do you?” you taunt him, your fingers moving to shove their way into his mouth, pressing down on his wet, hot tongue. The whimper he lets out as you gag him makes your brain short circuit, your eyes are fixed on the way he grinds his hips to meet your frantic thrusts, desperate to get himself off.

“Go on then, cum all over our nice sheets. Make everything dirty, just like you are, aren't you darling?” the filthy words spill from your lips before you could even think, and Matty stills for a second before moaning around your fingers, bucking against the mattress.

“So good, so fucking good- oh my god, fuck, feels so good-” his words are muffled by your fingers, and as much as you need to hear him, you let it slide, wanting your perfect boy to finally come undone. He cums with a scream, an actual, guttural scream of your name, convulsing under your touch as you reach around and grip his cock, working him through his orgasm.

He gasps as ropes of cum paint the sheets, covering your hand. You slow down your thrusts, not wanting to rip him out of his dazed state just yet. He whimpers as you pull out, feeling strangely empty without you filling up every inch of him. His body is limp against the bed, chest heaving trying to take in as much oxygen as possible as he comes down from his high, slowly but surely.

You yelp when a hand grips the side of your arm suddenly, pulling you down onto the bed next to him. Matty’s sweet smile makes your heart swell up with love as you make eye contact, his brown eyes drooped half shut in pleasure.

“Fucking mint.” he breathes, giggling as you roll your eyes at his utterly unsexy reaction to you fucking his brains out.

“Really?”

His smile turns into a grin as he pulls you in for a kiss, lips pressing firmly against yours. You hand cups his cheeks, wiping aways what's left of his tears.

“I fucking love you, that was world altering, fuck me.”

“I already did, remember?” the opportunity was right there, and you both erupt into a fit of laughter at your bad jokes, grinning widely at each other. Matty lets out a grossed-out groan when he accidently rolls into the wet patch he had left in the bed, crying at the feeling of the damp fabric against his bare legs.

But, in typical Matty fashion, he opts to just cope, too lazy and fucked out to do anything about it. You try to convince him to get up, shower, maybe do anything except roll around in his cum soaked sheets. He flat out refuses, gripping your waist so tightly you felt Matty-shaped bruises form on the skin.

He forces you to lay with him, not letting you get up.

“Did it hurt?” you ask tentatively, genuinely curious. He shakes his head, trying to describe the sensation.

“A bit, but it felt really fucking great after about two seconds, so totally worth it.” he kisses you again, softer but still passionate, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down lightly.

“Did you like it?” he asks, trailing a finger up and down your arm, scratching it comfortingly.

All you can do is smile, the memory of what you felt making you giddy.

“I felt powerful.” you confess, a faint blush spreading onto your already flushed cheeks. Might as well let it all out, right?

“You like being powerful?” you nod your head, confirming the sneaking suspicion he’s had since that very first night on his living room sofa.

“I like it when you hurt me.” you laugh, that information having been painfully obvious for a while now.

“I know, darling, you make it so obvious.” he curses at you for quote un-quote ‘kink shaming’ him, immediately mentioning your little knack for photography.

“What do you do with the pictures?” you’ve never told him what happens to the polaroids after they properly develop, stashed in your nightstand drawer.

“I don't kiss and tell.” you snigger at his hurt reaction, now even more desperate to know what goes on in your mind when your finger presses down on the shutter, immortalizing Matty in a picture as small as the palm of your hand.

“That does not work if I'm the one you kissed, I’m afraid.” you dismiss him with a shake of your head, watching the hope leave his face. He nags you further, offering all sorts of services to get you to confess to him.

“I’ll show you sometime.” his eyes light up, ready to make yet another filthy comment. You press a finger to his lips, shushing him like he was a misbehaved child, smirking at his reaction.

“Only if you're good, though.” he nods his head so eagerly, you're afraid he might get whiplash as he shuffles closer to you, nuzzling his face into your shirt (well, his goal was clearly your tits, but you didn't need to know that.)

“I'll be so good for you, you’ll regret ever denying me.” you laugh, vowing to hold him to it.

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ros3chu · 11 months ago

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@cottoncandywhispers @coucous-ballad @heavenfalls @procrastinatinglikeapro @alwaysanagelneveragod @tillthelandslide @beforeyougo-turnthebiglighton @k4tie75 @prorevving @lovelife4ever and SO many others 💖

friendship lives in little things and little things make up love. and what is love if not knowing everything about them before you know their name?

just something i made for school on the prompt internet. to my best friends and to my amazing online friends <3

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somethingaboutyou-beingyou · 10 months ago

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Masterlist

Just wanted to make a list of the shout outs that have already been done so that it's easier for me to keep track of and so that anyone who has a shout out request can see if there is already one for that person.

man-im-so-high

k4tie75

beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff

robbersinaforeignlanguage

straightouttamagazineface

iregretbeingherewheniwas10

haveyouseenherlately

procrastinatinglikeapro

ros3chu

wrestletotheground

tote-bag-chic

abboutross

lottiecrabie

think0fmehigh

honeyalaia

noacfslut

abouttofillhisshoes

awellposhmagazine

anons (the nice anons, fuck the mean ones)

lastnightwaskindofablur

nowshesdoingitallthetime

frailstateofhealy

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god-has-entered-my-body · 10 months ago

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What time you coming out? - M.H x Reader // pt.1

A/N: Lenas writer debut??? Omg??? This has a bunch of references to fics like the cellophane house (written by the lovely @vinylandcoffeecollection, srsly check out their work!). It's a bit angsty? Not really but angst will come this is a chaptered fic. Based off fallingforyou, hence the title. Thank you @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff for beta reading and putting up with me xx

wc: 11k

part two

February, 2008

“I'm not sure we should be doing this, neither of us is a professional hairdresser in any capacity”

Mötley Crüe’s ‘Public Enemy #1’ blares through the small speaker set on top of the toilet lid, the music reverberating off the bathroom's tiled walls. Matty attempts to brush the bleach onto your hair, narrowly missing your eyebrow for what felt like the sixth time. You'd prefer to not come out of this situation looking like 90s madonna if you could help it.

“Could you maybe not get the stuff on my face? I'm not sure I'd look as amazing as I do with bleached brows,” you say, flicking Mattys hand away from your hair, straightening your posture on top of the sink. Your elbow accidently knocks into the faucet and you curse out loud.

“You're right love, you'd look well hideous without brows” Matty retorts, laughing in your face. He's right, doesn't mean he has to say it.

“At least I have any sort of eyebrows, I'd get yours filled in if I was you.” Now it's your turn to laugh at him, his jaw hitting the floor at your comment. He clutches his chest with his hand, bending over for dramatic effect as if to say: “You wound me”. You fall into each other's arms, fighting over the ipod once again.

The song changes, and Matty resumes his attempts at bleaching your hair properly, failing once again. It had been a stupid, stoned impulse decision to buy the bleach at all. The local drugstore sold it for cheap, and you had some pocket change on you. Matty wanted you to buy the red dye, and you dismissed him immediately, because even he knew you'd look absolutely terrible as a redhead.

You hum along softly to David Bowie's “Suffragette City”. Bowie was your Idol. The song reminds you of him. Of Matty. It reminds you of when you first met.

—------------------------------------------------------

You were 15, pacing the street late at night, your boyfriend was blowing up your phone. Insincere apologies and “i love you”’s filled your screen. 4 missed calls. Tears were streaming down your face, making you not quite able to see straight.

The song playing, was blaring in your headphones, almost deafening. The song didn't fit at all to your current situation, but that didn't bother you.

It wasn't long before you reached a bus stop, sitting down. You didn't even know where you were.

Suddenly, like it was out of your control, you let out broken sobs, no longer silently crying. How fucking embarrassing.

You're not sure how long you’d been sitting there, in the dark, shivering in the cruel November weather.

You hadn't even noticed the person walking up to you.

He’d positioned himself in front of you, twisting his neck to get a look underneath your hood.

“You alright?” his voice sounded soft, concerned even. Through muffled sobs, you managed to look up at him.

He had a thick, fluffy jacket on. Oddly feminine for bloke, and you were pretty sure it was a women's coat. It basically swallowed him whole. You almost laughed at the sight. It almost made you forget about the night's events.

You’d had yet another fight with your boyfriend, Phillip. The two of you fought a lot, but never like this. Sure, he’d said some hurtful things, things you maybe shouldn't have forgiven as quickly as you did, but he had never, ever, gotten violent with you. Until tonight.

You'd barely registered it when it happened, your brain not properly processing his actions. In the midst of his screaming, he raised his hand. Raised. his. hand.

It came down with a crash against your left cheek, the sound echoing through the house. Because he did, in fact, have his own flat. Because 24 year olds usually have that.

Everything hit you at once. You'd managed to pick yourself up off the ground at a speed which would have given even world record holders a run for their money. You didn't bother grabbing anything else, you just needed to get out, now.

You could faintly hear his voice calling out from behind you, begging you to please, please come back. And what? Let him put his hands on you again? No way. A rare moment of clarity.

Fucking cunt

You’re brought back to reality by the sound of the stranger's voice.

“I’m Matty.” he offered his hand, and you shook it. “What're you doing out here in the cold? Its fuckin’ freezing.” He's right, it was cold. It hadn't occurred to you to take your coat with you.

You stuttered out a pathetic response of your name, barely making eye contact with him. A few beats pass before Matty starts ruffling around in his coat pockets. Raising your eyebrows, you watch him.

You can hear the faint sound of keys in his right pocket, and it's not long before he pulls out a joint from his left. It looks crumpled and old, like it had been there for a while.

“Spliff? It looks like you need it more than me.” He chuckles, and it somehow makes you feel better. He makes a move to sit next to you, and you twitch slightly when his shoulder touches yours. The bench is quite narrow, so you know it's not on purpose. It doesn't bother you quite as much as it should, given he is a stranger.

He takes out his lighter. It looks old and used, the black plastic chipping off around the top. It looks like it's a miracle it even works. You can see white writing along the side of it. M.H. Initials? His initials? Matty H something.

He starts burning the tip. Rotating the joint to get an even burn, you watch his movements closely, taking in some of his features.

His hair was curly but frizzy, you could tell he didn't pay it much mind. His features seemed soft, almost feminine. He was clean shaven, his pale skin a stark contrast to the dark brown of his hair.

Matty lets you take the first drag, stating “The first hit’s the best, and I've always been a gentleman”, flashing a grin your way. That made you laugh. You take a drag, letting the warm feeling spread through your body.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked timidly, his voice lowering.

“Absolutely not.” You mutter, looking him straight in the eyes for what seems like the first time that night. A smile.

—-------------------------------------------------------

“D’you think I'd look good as a blonde? I feel like I'd smash it,” Matty says, inspecting his hair in the mirror behind you. He has gorgeous locks, and you're constantly telling him to try and take care of them, he just doesn't listen. You study his features before giving him an answer.

“Maybe. Either that or you'd look like a bad hooker,” Matty gasps, shoving your shoulder in protest. The movement makes your elbow bang against the faucet again, but you ignore the pain this time

“I'll let you know i'd make an amazing hooker, thanks very much,” He proclaims quite loudly, making the both of you burst into a laughing fit.

You take the brush from Matty, twirling in your hand. George had taught you how to do that. An idea pops into your head.

“We could give you a few blonde highlights, just to try it out. There's no need for you to go full Elle Woods immediately” A giggle escapes your lips, picturing Matty with long, blonde hair. That’d be a sight.

“Let's do it, right now,” he breathes, visibly excited.

“Really? Adam’d take the absolute piss out of you, you know.” Matty rolls his eyes obnoxiously before he speaks. “Well then let Adam hold on to his toxic ideas of masculinity, I need a change.” This piques your interest. Matty? Need a change? Weird.

“What, did some bird break your heart this time? That's new, even for you Matthew,”

You can see him visibly cringe at your use of his full name. You know he hates it, and that is exactly why you do it. Getting a rise out of him is your favorite pastime.

“Switch with me then,” you say, and he obliges, letting you hop off the counter. You mix up a new batch of bleach and part off his hair into small sections. Little pink hair bands hold his curls in place. You shoot him a look and he nods, giving you the go-ahead. The bleach goes on smoothly, your practiced hand much less prone to mistakes than Mattys.

It doesn't take long before you're both sitting on your bed with foils in your hair. You manage to snap a picture of Matty on your polaroid camera. The light reflects off the foils, distorting the picture slightly. Matty demands to see it, but you decide to keep it for yourself. Can't get everything you want.

It's Mattys' turn on the music.

You've decided on a turn system for music when you're together, to avoid the gnarly fights you used to have over who gets to control the ipod.

He picks the latest Deftones album. It's not really your taste, and you tell him as much.

“S’not my fault your music taste consists of pop trash. Get well soon”, now it's your turn to shove him, and he almost falls off the bed. Your fights over music happened frequently. He insisted on listening to real music, while you couldn't care less if it sounded good.

The timer dings and you both get up to wash your hair in the sink. Water splashes everywhere, absolutely soaking the bathroom. You don't care. It's just water.

Towels litter the bathroom floor, soaking up the mess. Matty helps you dry your hair after you promise to help with his. The warm air feels nice on your neck.

“I like it, it makes me look camp,” Matty states, admiring himself in the mirror. Of course he'd say something like that.

“You look great, now get dressed, I've messaged Hann. He's picking us up at half 11”

Adam was one of your best mates, and the only one who had a car. You and Matty were still in school, along with George, another one of your friends. Adam and Ross shared a flat on the outskirts of the city. Adam's mother had gifted him a car for his 18th birthday last year. A bright red Kia. Bumper stickers littered the back, your favorite reading ‘Vehicle of legends”

Matty had borrowed one of your tops, specifically, a mesh top you'd gotten from Hollister a few weeks prior. It was adorned with a black tank top underneath, paired with the black skinny jeans you're convinced have fused with his legs at this point.

His hair had dried, dark curls now in contrast with blonde streaks. They framed his face. He looked good.

You’d gone for a more colorful ensemble, opting for baggy jeans instead of skinny ones. The bottom had already been well ripped up from years of dragging them on the ground. You paired said jeans with a wine-red off the shoulder jumper, the black strap of your bralette peaking out. You’d always loved that color. It reminded you of your favorite flowers, red roses.

The window closed softly, and you silently thanked God you lived on the first floor. Adam was already parked down the road from your house, impatiently waiting for the two of you. The radio was playing as you got in. Matty immediately started going on about how pop music has ruined the music scene and how it was all 'soulless, meaningless droning' and 'had no feeling anymore'. He always did this, and you'd learned to tune it out by then.

The drive was short, and you arrived at your destination not long after you’d set off. The air smelled like water and wet pavement. It had been pissing down earlier in the day.

‘The spot’ was an abandoned paper factory, affectionately renamed “Caroline's house” for any eavesdropping parents.

Carolines had been abandoned for well over 5 years before you started hanging out there, not many knew about it.

The three of you had already made your way through the back entrance. The front had been blocked off years ago, a futile attempt at keeping kids out. There was one specific room you always went to, and that was the office. It had a huge terrace with an amazing view of the city below. The glowing lights made you feel small and irrelevant in the vastness of the world.

The night was bright under the full moon, making it easy to see outside. Adam always brought an emergency flashlight with him when you went to Carolines. He was the voice of reason in the midst of the chaos. The responsible one. He always made sure everyone got home safe, talked your way out of situations with coppers on multiple occasions, and knew when to tell the bartender to switch drinks to water or juice. You’d always thank him the morning after.

“What even is your shirt, mate,” Adam asked with a grin on his face. He loved to take the piss out of Matty for his camp-ness. No harm no foul, Matty would do the exact same to him when the opportunity presented itself. Eyeing him up and down, he shook his head and went back to picking at his nails.

“She let me borrow it for tonight. Looks good, yeah?” Matty shoots back.

“Yeah sure, that and those white streaks in your hair make you look like a proper girl, you know”

You have to laugh at his statement, because it does ring true. From a certain distance, anyone could mistake Matty for a woman.

“You wish I was a girl, it’d make you feel less guilty about your sex fantasies, innit?” Matty cackles at his own words. Adam chucks a lighter at him, and misses. It instead bounces off the railing of the terrace and clatters down onto the ground somewhere behind you.

That was your cue to take out the small baggy from the pocket of your jeans. Going to look for the lighter Adam had just thrown, you turn around to see he’d already snatched your papes and weed, and started to roll a spliff.

“Oh come on, I look away for a second and you steal my weed. What, are you too broke to buy your own?” You huffed, sitting down on the floor next to him.

“Girls don't roll their own spliffs. You should know that by now, love” he said with a wink.

Cue eye roll.

“Oh thank you so much, what would I ever do without you, Hann? Fuck off.” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. This was never a display of chivalry, it was simply Adams' way of trying to get under your skin. Your stubborn self wouldn't let him, of course. Flashing him an award winning smile, you lay back on your elbows and eye him as he rolls your joint for you.

Matty was preoccupied with gathering enough cardboard so he could sit on the floor comfortably. The three of you couldn't be arsed bringing in furniture from the office, so you were left with the cold, unforgiving concrete floor of the terrace to sit on.

The minutes ticked by and Adam took his sweet time, presenting the spliff with a look of pride. You reach for it, seeing as you already had the lighter in your hand. Instead of handing it to you. Adam shakes his head.

“Girls dont light their own spliffs, either” You scoff at that, though deciding against smacking him upside the head. You hand him the lighter.

Mattys giggles can be faintly heard over your bickering, and Adam finally lights up. The distinct earthy smell fills up the air around you. They both let you have the first drag, stating something along the lines of “Ladies first” another eye roll.

“Fucking wankers”, you mutter under your breath, and finally, you inhale. It hits you almost immediately, a soft, fuzzy feeling that reverberates through your veins into every inch of your body. The two of them let out a laugh at your expression, utterly euphoric.

Adam takes the next drag, hitting him just as hard as it did you. He leans against the glass sliding door, letting his eyes droop closed.

“Fucking hell, this is some strong weed.” He lets out a rough cough, “Where’d you even get it from?”

“Oh y’know, just some guy. Same as always I s’pose,”

Matty spoke “What, d’you shag him or something? No one just gives out this type of premium stuff on a whim,”

This makes you chuck the grinder at him. It hits him square in the chest. You hum contentedly, grinning at him in amusement when he doubles over in pain. You bicker back and forth, calling each other names. Adam passes the spliff back to you, and you take another hit.

Time passes slowly. The clouds slowly reveal more and more of the full moon. It is quite beautiful tonight, you notice.

Adam produces a bottle of tequila from his ‘gay-ass tote bag’ as Ross calls it. You take turns taking swigs straight from the bottle, Matty managing to spill some onto his mesh top, making quite literally everything reek of alcohol.

You felt good. The high mixed with the healthy amount of tequila made you feel like you were floating. You could tell Matty was just as hammered as you, seeing as he was now straddling Adams lap, trying to kiss him.

After multiple attempts at getting him off, Matty stood up on his own, stating that he didn't want Hann to pop a boner au cause de his womanly features.

The three of you laugh and laugh until you finish the spliff. You’d never had a good tolerance for anything, whether it be weed or alcohol. You weren't particularly small, it just always hit you way harder than Adam or Ross. Even Matty managed to pull himself together when the situation called for it. You, however, were stumbling and tripping over your feet the entire walk home. It had been pissing down the entire morning. Puddles littered the streets, not an ideal weather for someone who was too wasted to even have any sort of depth perception.

Adam had to leave suddenly, picking up a last minute shift at the shop he worked at. It was in the opposite direction of where you came from, leaving you and Matty to walk home.

It wasn't a long walk, 30 odd minutes or so. It was made significantly longer by your inability to walk in a straight line to save your life. Echoing laughs filled the streets as Matty helped you trudge along. Your pants dragged on the floor as usual, which meant they were also dragging through the numerous puddles, soaking them.

You stop suddenly, looking down and pouting at the darkened material of your pants. For some inexplicable reason, this made you stomp your feet like a child. Matty broke out in uncontrollable laughter, tears forming in his eyes. You were actually acting like a child.

“I don't know why you insist on wearing those insanely baggy pants. Look at me! My pants don't get wet AND my ass looks phenomenal in skinny jeans” He twirls around you, making you feel slightly dizzy.

“Oh fuck off!! Not everyone is an attention slag like you, have some decency for once in your life!” You retort, shoving him out of your line of sight. Due to your state, Matty quickly catches up to you.

The steps of your house come quicker than expected. Both of you make your way to the east side of the first floor, where your bedroom window remains slightly ajar. You'd wedged an old shirt between it to keep it from closing all the way. You'd gotten sneaking out down to an art, always knowing when, where and how. Your mother had caught you once. It was your first time. You knew not to make those same mistakes again.

Matty helped you hop onto the windows ledge, his hands grabbing at your sides. While he looked frail, Matty was actually quite strong, lifting you up without breaking a sweat.

You're sitting on the edge, slightly taller than him now. Peering down, you reach your arms out. The two of you hugged tightly, whispering quiet “goodnight”s and “sleep well”s. Saying goodbye after a night out often felt strangely melancholic, you never wanted the other to leave.

You've been attached at the hip since that night. He’d convinced you to break up with Phillip, stating he was a bastard who shouldn't be allowed near women ever again.

Matty went on to introduce you to his mates after you’d found out you went to the same highschool. That was nearly 3 years ago now.

Late nights often make you wonder what would have happened if you hadn't gone to that specific bus stop and met Matty. If he had ignored your crying instead of offering you weed and sitting down next to you. He’d always been charming, like a magnet, he attracted everyone around him. Sure, he was a bit pretentious at times, but everyone has their faults.

You roll over and try to sleep, slowly coming down from your high. You made a mental note to take it easy next time, maybe pace yourself. It was hard to know your limits when it came to substances, and Matty was the same way. Adam was the ever responsible one, never too drunk or high, always the parent. You were grateful for him, knowing what situations you'd be stuck in if Adam had not been there to smooth things over.

The tiredness hits you in waves. Glancing at the clock left of your desk, it read 3:26 am. Fuck. You try to ignore the fact that you had to be up in about 4 hours. You close your eyes, welcoming the rest.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

A harsh knocking sounded from the direction of your window, scaring the shit out of you. You bolt up, pissed at the disturbance. Turning to face the window, and are met with a familiar grin. Matty.

It takes all of 5 seconds of him being in your room before you start cursing at him for waking you up like that. He simply shrugs his shoulders and sits in his designated chair. A maroon sofa chair in the corner in front of your bed. It even has M.H carved into the wood, because Matty had some sort of fetish for carving his initials into things. A sign of ownership? It made you wonder.

Shuffling around the room, you kick your still wet jeans off into the corner, instead picking up a denim skirt. You’d wanted to wear that same red top to school, but seeing as you had fallen asleep wearing it, you chucked it into the same corner as the pants.

A pink baby tee caught your eye from the chair Matty was sitting in. You silently point at it and he passes it to you. This isn't the first time you've changed in front of him. It didn't happen often, but what was the point of kicking him out? It's not like he was actively staring anyway.

After quickly changing, you go to put on some makeup. Makeup made you feel pretty, pretty enough to go outside. The only person who sees your bare face regularly is Matty. Maybe George. You didn't go anywhere without it.

You can feel Matty looking at you from the corner of your eye. Raising your eyebrows at him, you ask him what he's staring at.

“D’you reckon i can try some of that?” he gestures vaguely at the eyeshadow brush in your hand “I think i’d look class with my new highlights.” he twirls his hair around his finger, giving you a look.

You look at him skeptically, before breaking out into a smile. Matty smiles back. It's not long before he’s sat in front of you, wincing whenever the brush makes contact with his eyelid. You tell him hes just not used to it, and to just stay still, for fucks sake.

Once you're done, you take a step back to admire your work. You have to admit, he looks good. Really good. His eyes were lined with a dark purple shadow, making them appear slightly bigger. He takes his fingers, slightly smudging the out corners, giving him a catty look.

“I think you might even look even better than me,” you say, looking him up and down. This is one of those rare moments where you can't read Mattys' expression at all. Finally, he opens his mouth

“No one could look better than you, trust me,”

A beat of silence before he speaks again

“I do look ravishing though, d’you reckon Adam'll like this more than the highlights?” He always manages to make himself laugh. Then in typical Matty fashion, he pulls out a beat up looking joint from the pocket of his too tight jeans.

“Fancy a spliff?”

“Matty, for christ's sake, we have school in about an hour, and you want to smoke now?”

“It's the only true way to get through Mr. Henderson's maths class, you know it'll be unbearable if we don't.” translation: please smoke with me. He gives you a look, because you know he's right.

It was too late to protest. He’d already made his way to open your window, knowing how much you hate stinking up your room.

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips, and you find your place next to him.

The wind and rain had calmed down, so Matty had no difficulty lighting it. The smell filled your senses, almost overwhelming you. You were thankful for the fresh air.

He placed the spliff between your lips, watching you intently as you inhaled. Your orange lip gloss had rubbed off the filter, and transferred onto his lips. The weed wasnt as strong as last nights, but still, the sight of Mattys glossed lips made you break out into a fit of giggles. Time seemed irrelevant up until the point you had to run to catch your bus. Sweaty and out of breath, you sat down in your usual spot.

You can hear comments and insults being thrown at Matty from the back of the bus, but neither of you paid much mind. Matty was high as a kite, and too loopy (hungover) from the previous night to offer up one of his witty retorts. Instead, both of you gave them the bird from over the seat.

Matty was leaning against you, his arms hooked into yours. Neither of you spoke, listening to the soft rumbling of the bus. You stank of weed, anyone could smell it on you. Remembering a perfume bottle in your handbag, you take it out and douse yourself, as well as Matty in it.

“Oh for fucks sake, now everything smells like Jimmy Choo Illicit!” Matty whined, burying his head in his hands. “Couldn't you have picked a manlier perfume? I'm already walking a very thin line with all of this” He vaguely gestures to himself.

“Would you rather get kicked out after coming to school smelling like a fucking dispensary? Think ahead, Matthew!” He cringes visibly

“No need to get out the full government name, jesus” he shuffles up against you, and you can see his eyes are a light shade of red. There's no way the two of you would get through first lesson unnoticed.

George was already waiting for you guys at your stop. Greeting him with a hug, you try to avoid eye contact, yet somehow, he knows.

“Hey, you alright-?” He cranes his neck to get a better look at your face

“Are you–? Are you high??” He laughs out loud, smacking your arm to stabilize himself. You shoot him a death stare, but you can feel a laugh coming too. Matty let out a sarcastic haha before kicking George as a way to say get on with it, we have class.

The walk to the room through the sea of people in the halls feels like a claustrophobic hell. B.O ridden teenagers rub up against the three of you, some even (quite violently) shoving past.

It's a miracle you make it without Matty losing his mind at one of the hecklers. School was actual hell for Matty, and by proxy, you. Insults were thrown at him without a second thought, and the makeup he’d adorned today surely didn't help the comments.

He never let it truly get to him. He didn't care, and that's what you loved so much about him. This part of the city was set back about fifteen years in terms of acceptance and progressivity, so his flowery backpack and femininity wasn't exactly welcomed.

Adam had always taken the piss out of him for his outfits since they were boys, but he never, ever meant it seriously. They were like brothers, those two, and no amount of shit from other people (irrelevants, as Matty would put it) would be able to break them apart.

The way the room was set up, there were six tables of four, with two people always facing another two. You had sat in the seat next to George, with Matty sitting (well, more like laying) across the other two chairs opposite you. Mr. Henderson had given up on trying to get Matty to sit right a long time ago, instead just flat out ignoring him. It was always easier to fail than to teach.

“Fucking poofter, that one,” you can hear someone saying from behind you. You know they mean Matty.

Matty blows them both a kiss before getting flipped off by the shorter one. He loved taking the piss out of the people who insulted him, throwing them off.

George questions mattys makeup, and you tell him it was his idea. George had always supported Matty, using his insanely tall stature to fend off anyone giving him a hard time.

The lesson was going by at a snail's pace, with Matty being his usual self, interrupting at every possible moment. It was so obvious he was off his tits, and Mr. Henderson looked suspicious. A particularly loud laugh from George had prompted him to throw you all out. You couldn't care less, getting up immediately.

Matty picked up his things from the floor, making a show out of bending over in front of the two boys that had insulted him earlier. They both scrunch their faces in disgust, muttering under their breaths. A giggle escapes you as they stare daggers.

“Fucking cunt,” one of them says, and now it’s your turn to blow them a kiss.

The three of you trudge down the halls, slowly but surely coming down from your highs. George suggests going to Ross and Adams flat, seeing as it's just a few bus stops away from the school. They share a flat above a Sainsburys, which is optimal for late night munchies. Adam even works there, so there's always opportunities to sneak a packet of crisps or a can of cola.

The bus stinks of sweat and mildew, as did all buses in britain. You get used to the stench after a while, your legs propped up onto George and Mattys laps. The back seat was always your favorite, giving you ample space to stretch a bit. You and George share headphones while Matty takes a quick power nap. He always lets you pick the music, and today it was Radioheads ‘No Surprises’. The music plays softly as buildings and trees pass by the window. The day was quite sunny, the light reflecting off of the windows of houses and offices. You'd sobered up enough to be able to think clearly by now.

These days were the best. They felt calm, like you could forget every other fucked up thing in your life. Your mother, your coursework. Nothing else existed in your little bubble except the people you were with. It felt peaceful, like a breath of fresh air.

Matty stirred awake as the bus halted to a stop, yawning for dramatic effect. He loved to exaggerate, ever the performer. George was the quiet, brooding type, trying desperately to go unnoticed, which proved rather difficult. Although he was barely coming up on his 18th birthday, he had grown to a staggering 6 '4, with a voice at least 3 or so octaves deeper than Mattys.

It had proven useful, you aways had someone to send into the smoke shop to buy fags or liquor, even if it always took a pep talk to even get him through the front door. George was convinced he didn't look older, even though he had never been carded. Ever.

Usually it was Adam who bought it for you, even though both Matty and Ross were also already 18. Matty had already been banned from most liquor stores in the area, so he proved rather useless in situations needing a bit of booze.

Mattys violent knocks against the flat door brought you back to reality

“C’MON OPEN UP ITS US,” his voice booms through the hallway. You can hear banging and shuffling coming from the other side of the door. It's so obviously Ross bumping into every available surface because he hadn't turned on the light yet. He was an avid day sleeper, mostly working night shifts. A particularly loud crash is followed by glass breaking.

Matty taps his foot impatiently, waiting for the door to finally open. Ross emerges, looking disgruntled and tired of Mattys shit.

“Mate, tell me, what possessed you to come knocking about at this hour, don't you have school-? I swear you're going to be the end of me one day” he rubs his eyes, getting the sleep out of them before moving out of the way to let the three of you in.

“First of all, it's like 11am, so not exactly the ungodly hour you were describing,” Matty starts “Second of all, we’ve been kicked out of class, so where better to come than here?”

The inside of the flat reeks of cigarettes and laundry detergent. Ross refuses to smoke on the terrace, deeming it too cold even in the middle of summer. Adam always smokes on the terrace, scared of staining the walls like in those addiction documentaries. A futile attempt, but at least he tries. Matty immediately lights a fag, sighing happily when the nicotine hit his system. School had always been an endurance test for him. Getting him to sit still for 2 hours without going for a cigarette proved nearly impossible. He was already itching by the 45 minute mark.

“What did you even do to get kicked out before 12?” He looks at George, who tells him exactly what happened with tears of laughter in his eyes. Matty rolls his before sitting down on the comforter located to the left of the TV, ashing into one of the various ashtrays situated around the house. George sits on the sofa next to Ross, and you make your way to your favorite spot, the table. Sitting cross legged on the table made you all face each other, which you quite liked.

“Brew?” George asks, looking up from his Ipod. Everyone nods, and he gets up to put on the kettle. Idle conversation fills the air, and Matty starts chatting about the new “groundbreaking” Metallica album. Matty was, if anything, a music snob. No one could stop him raving on about albums or artists, whether he was praising or criticizing them. Once he started, you couldn't stop him to save your life.

Minutes tick past when George brings back mugs of tea. Mattys mug has got the words “I ❤️ cum” on it. Ross has his usual Macclesfield Town mug, and you and George have the plain green ones Adam bought in an attempt to make the flat seem somewhat civilized.

Hours pass and Matty finally shuts up. You end up on top of him, sitting on the arms of the comforter. You're all watching Skins on the telly, and Mattys hand makes its way to your back, keeping you steady. He’d always been touchy like that, so it didn't bother you. You look at the sofa and see Ross passed out, drooling onto George's jumper. George, polite as ever, lets him sleep. It was a miracle Ross hadn't started snoring already.

You suggest to Matty that maybe it was time to get going, seeing as you lived on the other side of the city. George's place was right around the corner, so he decided to stay and look after Ross a bit before Adam got home from his shift. Britain's sweetheart.

Getting up as quietly as possible, making your way towards the door. Ross stirs as Matty almost knocks over his mug. The two of you make eye contact, silently laughing at Ross’ position, basically on top of George. He flipped you off, rolling his eyes and reaching for the remote, turning down the telly.

It was still fairly dark inside, so gathering everything proved a bit of a challenge. The curtains were drawn shut, the yellow material of them painting the house in a warm yellow hue.

You had spotted Mattys flowery bag in the corner next to the stove, and grabbed it along with a bottle of cola that was set on top of the kitchen counter. Hydration was important, after all, even if you knew Adam would be livid that you were stealing his shit again. What are mates for?

Matty grabbed both of your coats, mouthing “lets go,” before making his way towards the front door.

The bright light of the hallway burns your eyes. How do they survive coming out here when that fucking flat is always so dark? You think to yourself. You wonder if Ross has a vitamin D deficiency from the inherent lack of sunshine in his life, yourself excluded.

The bus ride home is rowdier, filled with kids from surrounding schools. The both of you hid in a corner towards the front, away from the dickheads that usually sat in the back row. You were both too tired to deal with anyone but each other.

He was right, everything did smell like jimmy choo now, and maybe you shouldn't have sprayed so much.

His hand wanders to his eyes, rubbing a bit of the eyeshadow off.

“Does it still look alright?” he asks, looking up from your lap. It had smudged a bit, melted off after a full day of wear. It's not like you used your expensive waterproof stuff, after all.

“You look fine, pretty actually,” You give him a tired smile, stroking his hair absentmindedly

“Can you even call a guy pretty? Isn't that, like, inherently degrading?” Matty mutters, a grin spreading onto his face.

“It's only degrading if you let it be. You Matthew Healy, are pretty. Pretty like a girl”

A laugh escapes you, imagining Matty as a woman. Knowing him, he’d be into it.

“Does it bother you? Y’know, me being feminine and wearing makeup.” The question surprises you. It's a rare thing seeing Matty this vulnerable. He doesn't care what other people think, but he does care what you think.

“You know I don't care, I actually prefer you this way.” you assure him.

“Though it's still my mission to convince you that the backpack is not the move you think it is.”

That earns you a frown from Matty. “It is! I'll let you know the lady at the store told be it very in this time of year” its always funny watching him get defensive over his fashion choices, even if he knows he’s fucked up and its hideous.

“Yeah maybe it's trendy... for 8 year old girls! But you do you mate, don't let me judge you,” that gets you an elbow to the gut.

The walk home is one you always take together. Arms hooked into each other, walking, sharing headphones. It's your turn on the music, putting on ‘This Charming Man’ by the smiths.

“You know, Morrissey sort of reminds me of you. You're really similar in your campness” Matty choked on air, shooting you a faux offended look.

“Did you seriously call Morrissey camp? He'd have your head for that.”

“You're both attention slags, so there's at least one similarity.” Matty doesn't say anything, knowing your words do, in fact, ring true. Matty loves attention, and man, is good at getting it.

He draws people to him like moths to a flame. Always the loudest, always the most interesting.

That one saying; “You can't be the prettiest girl at the party, but you always be the drunkest” is a personification of Matty. He tips back wine glass after wine glass, not caring about the stains on his shirt or the red ring around his lips. He then makes it a poor Hanns job to make sure he doesnt get into a scrap with three much bigger guys (which actually did happen last summer outside of a pub in london. Matty got out scot free, while Adam nearly suffered a heart attack).

You hug Matty goodbye, giving him a peck on the cheek.

You always dreaded coming home.

They say your biggest critic is your mind, but yours was your mother. You knew she had already gotten a call from the school saying you cut class. The moment you stepped into the living room, the yelling started. “How can you do this” and “What are you even doing with your life” turned into “Look at yourself, you look like a whore and you're going to school like that?” or “Were you out with that little gay boyfriend of yours again?”

You try to tune it out, not letting it get to you. She's been like that for as long as you can remember, never letting up for even just a second. You weren't the best kid, but she sure isn't helping you “get on the right track” as she liked to say.

Tears well up in your eyes when you finally shut your bedroom door. Your first instinct is to call Matty. He picks up after two rings, immediately hearing the quiver in your voice.

He tells you he’ll be there as soon as he can.

Minutes pass by slowly until you hear a familiar, although uncharacteristically soft, knock at your window. Matty.

Your puffy eyes meet his and he can tell you’d been crying. No words were exchanged as he took you into your arms, his hands soothingly stroking your hair as you let out muffled sobs into his chest. It broke his fucking heart to see you like this. You were extensions of each other, the others' pain was always your own.

“It's all so shit. Why cant she just be normal one fucking time.” your voice audibly shakes, partially out of anger and partially out of exasperation.

“I know i suck, I know I'm a bad daughter but-,” Matty cuts you off. “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” His words only make you cry harder.

He holds you close, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, the sound of his voice similar to the way he spoke to you that night. His hands feel cold against your skin, and you know he’d rushed to your house without grabbing his coat. You look up at him, seeing his hair was unruly, curls falling into his face. The blonde highlights littered his dark hair and he ran his hand through them, brushing them to the side to get a better look at you.

“D’you want to sit down? We can listen to music. Whatever you want, and won't even comment on how shit it is, promise,” He knew you didn't want to talk about it then, you never did.

You sit in silence, your face still in his chest, staining the light blue material of his shirt. You quietly apologize, knowing how much he loves that shirt. He tells you to shut up, and that it didn't matter.

He had gotten it in Barcelona at some tourist shop for 50 quid. Insane price for a tshirt that just said “Barcelona” on it, but he held it dear to his heart. It reminded him of his childhood summers.

“There's a bottle of um…,” you trail off, gesturing to the second drawer of your nightstand. Matty understands, and reaches over you to open it. The drawer is filled with half eaten granola bars, bracelets, jewelry, the odd vape for when it was too cold to go outside. Matty always took the piss out of you for having them, saying they were ‘so fucking girly it hurt’. After a second of rummaging, he took out a half drunk bottle of Bacardi. It always sat in your nightstand for when you needed it, and you definitely needed it now.

“Only you'd have a giant bottle of rum in your nightstand,” Matty says softly, searching your expression. The corners of your mouth tug upwards at his words, and you crack a smile.

He opens it for you, and grabs an abandoned cup from your desk. The cup he had gifted you on your 17th birthday. It was covered in flowers and stars, very Matty. Very you. Pouring a healthy amount into the glass, he hands it to you.

“To shitty situations” He raises it, clinking it against your cup. He takes a swig straight from the bottle. You down the whole thing in one go, wincing as the alcohol burns down your throat.

“You feel better?” he asks, pouring more into your cup. You nod, before taking another drink. “I just need to get drunk and forget,” you sigh. Matty starts to speak again.

“That's an unhealthy way to go about it. Soon enough I'll be picking you up from corners because you can't handle your liquor. It's a recipe for alcoholism, innit?” you cackle at his words prompting Matty to raise his eyebrows at you.

“Oh come off it!,” How many times have you been so drunk you couldn't find your own dick if you tried. Sort yourself out before criticizing my drinking habits.” you scoff

You decide ‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis is the right soundtrack for the night. You lay down next to Matty, your shoulders and thighs touching each other. You look up fondly at the dozens of yellow stars littering your ceiling. Reminiscent of your early childhood, you couldn't bear to take them down. You still felt like a child, your heart yearning for the same innocence you no longer possessed. A distinct naïveté you missed dearly. After your breakup with Phillip you'd realized that the world wasn't all it was cut out to be. People wanted, and they took. It didn't matter to them if they hurt others, because as long as they were satiated, nothing else mattered.

You turn to your left, draping your arm over Mattys stomach. He let out a deep breath, raising his right arm to draw light circles onto your back. His nails had grown out longer than usual, but the sharpness of them was comforting through the thin material of your tank top. The edge of your small twin bed dug into your back.

The two of you laid like that for hours before sleep took over your body. The stars on the ceiling blurred as your eyes started to shut. You let out a soft hum, settling into Matty even more, holding him close.

You don't know how long he stayed, but he was gone when you woke up. You feel a sticky note attached to your forehead, the glue rubbing off on your skin. You could barely read Mattys erratic handwriting. The note read: you fell asleep, hope your hangover isn't as bad as mine. left you some Advil on your dresser xx.

Your hand reached next to you, feeling two tablets. You wash them down with water from the sink. Your cell phone lights up with a text from George

“We’re meeting at Hanns flat, be there in 30,”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The windows were rolled up, trapping the smoke inside. Your eyes were glazed over, barely able to make out Ross’ face in front of you. Watching as Matty took another hit, you made a ‘give it here’ motion at the zoot, prompting him to hand it to you. Rhianna blared through the radio, a far cry from Adams usual taste in music, but no one seemed to care. Even Matty had managed to keep his mouth shut, instead moving his head in time with the music.

Adam was sitting in the driver's seat, as always. He’d never let anyone else drive his girl, not even Ross. He was insanely protective over his car, even if it was an old piece of junk.

George was in the passenger seat, holding a pink, polka dotted ashtray in his hand. The colorful ceramic proved quite the contrast against his dark clothes and messy blonde hair. It was a gift from his older sister, and the only ashtray he ever used.

You were perched in the middle seat, your elbows on the console between Adam and George. Matty sat on your right, and Ross on your left.

“No joke, I once had a bird offer to give me a footjob. Can you imagine that?” Adam spoke loudly, almost too loud. Ross let out a disgusting snort, the mental image of Adam getting a footjob making him properly lose it. You make a face.

“That can't feel good at all, innit? Aren't the soles of feet rough?” you ponder. “Only if you have George's hobbit feet, that is,” Matty said, ducking to avoid yet another lighter being chucked at him. You were going to run out of lighters at this rate.

“I'll show you hobbit feet you fucking cunt,” George retorted, sticking out his tongue like a child.

“I had a girl once who wanted me to properly bite down on her nipples, like hard. Can't imagine how much that would've hurt.” you share. She’d been quite the odd one up until she was in your bed, so you were already expecting some sort of weird kink. Nipple biting was definitely not on that list. Not that you were kink shaming.

George spoke first: “What d’you mean girl? You're telling me you've been with girls?” You raise your eyebrows at him. “Erm, yeah? Didn't I tell you-?” Everyone shook their heads except Matty. You had already told him this story months before, the both of you laughing at your misfortune. Smiling at the fond memory, you meet Ross’ eye.

“We didn't know you were like, proper gay,” he says quietly, not wanting to sound abrasive. You suck in a deep breath before answering. “I'm not proper anything, and besides,” you point at Matty sitting next to you, “This one’s snogged loads of blokes.” A collective “What???” fills the car, with everyone's eyes now on Matty.

“What if I have? It's not my job to notify you of all my sexual endeavors, innit?” Matty looks slightly uncomfortable, giving you a look. You frown at him, and he shakes his head. Slight signs of a smile linger on his face. It's fine he mouths at you, resting his arm on your shoulder.

The three of them talk loudly over each other, with Ross asking some very explicit questions on the mechanics of gay sex.

“How do you even, like, properly shag? It's not like you have anything you can shove into the other girl,” Jesus christ.

Matty taps Ross’ shoulder, bringing the attention to his hands. He brings them up to his mouth, sticking his tongue out between the V-shape his fingers had made. Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, the whole demonstration makes Ross visibly cringe.

The car suddenly starts. Adam makes the short drive to Carolines, stating that the hotbox was getting to be too much for him. George has a go at his age, calling him an old man. Hann was in fact, about 2 and a half years older than George, and a solid year older than the rest of you. Old man was right.

You had rolled down the window on Mattys side, hoping some fresh air would help Adams driving skills. The erratic swerving had begun to make you sick.

Finally trugding up the stairs to the terrace, Matty says something about it being too fucking cold. Ross says “That's the price of being built like a male Kate Moss,” and Matty nearly shoves him down the stairs.

It is colder than usual, and you had opted for a dark gray zip up, the material hugging you tightly. You were pretty sure it was Mattys. A pair of green wash jeans hung low, revealing the lightning bolt tattoo on your right hip bone. It was a copy of Bowie's on the cover of ‘Aladdin Sane’. You had gotten it done by another one of your mates, Rome, who was an aspiring tattoo artist. It looked a bit shit, the lines slightly crooked, but it was yours.

You had convinced George and Ross to carry the sofa from the office onto the terrace. They were the tallest and strongest, and Mattys arms would have snapped like twigs if he tried to carry anything, you said to them. George laughed his octave defying laugh, while Ross let out an annoyed grunt, shoving past you.

Adam was right behind them, carrying a small wooden coffee table. “For you- I know how much you hate sofas,” he says quietly. You called him a softy, but inevitably thanked him for bringing it out. He had his rare sweet moments, and you appreciate them

Once you had all settled, you took out your tobacco and papes, starting to roll your first cigarette of the night. You honestly needed a break from all the weed, because jesus.

Matty let out a groan, taking the piss out of you for bringing all that instead of just buying industrials.

“I know you think you're better than us for rolling, it's quite pretentious.” he sucks in a breath before talking, moving his hands erratically “Don't tell me it ‘tastes better’ because that's simply bollocks, it all tastes the same!”

“Pretentious? Her? That's rich coming from someone who raves on about William Burroughs like anyone knows who is!” Matty looks hurt, and you give Ross a look that says you really don't know who William Burroughs is?

The conversation continued without you, too preoccupied with rolling to add anything. All was well until George decided to open his giant mouth again.

“If you're not fully gay,” he started, “how do we know you're not secretly crushing on any of us?” he raised his eyebrows, looking at you expectantly.

You let out a snort, it slowly morphing into laughter until you look at him, his expression deadly serious.

“You can’t actually mean that?” your voice is slightly hoarse. “For all we know, you could be harboring secret affection for Matty with the amount of times you’ve slept in the same bed.”

Mattys perks up at this, shooting George a glare that could kill a man. He told him???

You don't know what came over you. Maybe it was the weed, maybe you were just groggy from the lingering hangover. You lick the cig closed, setting down next to the others. Uncrossing your legs, you get up and walk towards Matty. You can see the grin plastered onto his face, and he is definitely not sober.

You stumbled over Adam's foot, kicking it out of the way. Ross moved away from Matty, giving you some space.

The terrace was dark, but the moonlight illuminated some of Mattys features. Specifically, his eyes. They seemed to glow, following your every step toward him. I'll show you secret affection you thought to yourself when your hand made contact with Mattys face. The stubble on his chin scratched your fingers. He never could grow a beard, and the faint shadow was as long as it would get.

He sat with his legs spread, skin peaking out through the single rip in his jeans. His arms rested on the sofas back, splaying out to the side. He wore a black v-line jumper, the knit of it almost see-through.

The makeup from the previous day was still smudged on his face, giving him a rockstar-esque look. The eyeshadow framed his eyes, glittering in the faint light. Your hands cupped his face, lightly stroking his jaw. The grin had been wiped off his face the moment you had settled between his legs, kneeling on the edge of the sofa.

You didn't think, just moved, your lips smashing against each other. It seemed to take Matty by surprise, and it even took him a second before he kissed you back. One thing nagged at you. Why did you like it?

There was no time to think when you heard George wolf whistle at the both of you.

You want a show, I'll give you a show you thought, slipping in your tongue and taking over the kiss. He seemed into it, but then again, Matty would fuck anything with a pulse. You smile against his mouth at the thought. It suddenly felt hot, even though you were outside. His hand snaked its way into your hair, tugging slightly. This didn't feel platonic. Was it?

“Alright, alright, we didn't sign up for a porno,” Ross says, his hand covering his mouth. You were the one who broke the kiss. Matty let out a soft groan when you parted, loud enough for only you to hear. His eyes pierced yours, and you moved to get off of him.

Your heart thrummed against your ribcage, and you felt dizzy. What the fuck?

You wiped your mouth, your lipgloss having smeared all over your face. Wiping the back of your sticky hand against the sofa, you turned and walked back to your spot on the table.

“See! Absolutely no ‘secret affection’ as George so kindly put it.” you say to the group, going back to your pile of fags, taking one and lighting it. If you had looked at Matty instead of being preoccupied with Hanns bickering about the prissy new manager, you would have noticed a faint shade of red caressing his cheeks. He felt around for his own cigarettes, and took out a pack of parliaments. Spotting the lighter next to you, he reached for it, lighting the cig as he inhaled the smoke eagerly.

It was already half two when the five of you finally piled back into Hanns car. The prominent stench of weed made you scrunch up your nose. You decide to light a cigarette in the car despite various protests and threats to your life if you even dared to ash onto the leather seats. Switching seats with Matty, you ash out the window instead, resting your head against the rim of the car.

Ross and George were having yet another meaningless debate on whether mixing ketchup and mayo was a cardinal sin or totally acceptable. Every other word was an insult, and you knew they would never come to an agreement, ever.

You had already established that you’d be sleeping over at Mattys, saving Adam time and petrol not having to drive both of you home separately. Denise and Tim were out on a press tour, so he had the house to himself.

His room was dark, the curtains drawn shut. If you knew Matty, you knew he hated the big light with a burning passion. Instead, a small lamp was turned on in the corner, illuminating the various posters that littered his wall. Band posters, prints, tapestries, the occasional quote. Everything screamed Matty

His room was filled with so much music. CD’s, vinyls, even the odd cassette tape. His purple record player sat on top of a dresser next to his desk, surrounded by various small trinkets of his. It was his prized possession, a gift from his mother for his 14th birthday.

You had already helped yourself to a cola from his fridge downstair. His house was huge, way bigger than your own. Your parents weren't actors, after all. The walls of his room were stained towards the corners, just another side effect of Mattys near constant chain smoking. His bed was big, and you both fit comfortably on it. The wardrobe next to it had a pile of your own clothes in it, but none to sleep in. Your eyes dart around the room looking for one of his to wear, landing on his bright pink durex t-shirt. He had worn it once to school, promptly getting kicked out of literature class by a very conservative Mrs. Sexton.

Soft music was playing in the background as you unloaded your bag onto Matty’s insanely cluttered desk. Out came multiple pens, makeup, not one, not two, but three lighters, and finally, makeup wipes.

You sat on the ground in front of his full length mirror, wiping at your eyes and face. Matty was making the bed, giving the both of you each your own duvet, a must after too many fights over the blanket. You weren't a peaceful sleeper, constantly tossing and turning, occasionally even kicking Matty in the back.

Washing your face, you hear the bathroom door click open. Matty went and sat on the closed toilet lid next to you.

“Hand me my toothbrush, will you? And some toothpaste.” he asked, stretching his hand out. You do, even wetting the toothbrush for him.

He sat there, brushing his teeth and flipping through a recent issue of playboy while you put moisturizer on, and then a serum.

“I dont get how you can be arsed to put all that shit on your face, it takes way too long,” his comment makes you roll your eyes at him in the reflection.

“Not everyone is naturally blessed with clear skin like you, people like me have to put effort into their appearance, knobhead.” A wave of insecurity hits you as you inspect the acne on your face.

You had been a chronic face picker in your early teenage years, and the consequences of that were gnarly acne scars covering most of your face. They were not prominent, but they were there.

Matty was fortunate enough to have had maybe three zits ever, his clear skin the stuff of dreams.

Matty watches you pick yourself apart in the mirror. He hated when you did that. It made his heart ache in his chest. He wished you could see what he saw. What did he see?

“You’re quite beautiful, really,” he says, making eye contact with you through the mirror. You’re taken aback, not quite sure how to respond. You open your mouth to speak.

“Oh bugger off,” you say, your voice breathy and annoyed. You didn't want to sound annoyed, it just came out that way.

Matty raises both his hands in defeat, and spits the toothpaste into the toilet bowl, flushing. The hairbands sitting on the bathroom counter eventually end up in your hair, holding together two braids on either side of your face. You stare at the mirror one more time, examining yourself. The pink fabric of your (well, Mattys) shirt clung to you like it did Matty. Taking off your bra, you go back into his room. He had changed into a loose Kiss t-shirt and black boxers. The light of the corner lamp helped you find your phone, sitting on the nightstand next to you.

The atmosphere was calm, calm enough that you’d almost forgotten about the kiss. Almost.

Matty reached over to turn the lamp off, lighting a candle for light. Cinnamon.

“You know it's dangerous to sleep with candles lit? We could catch on fire and die,” Matty had rolled over on his side, now facing you. A grin spread onto his face.

“If it kept me from ever seeing Hanns ugly mug ever again, i’d gladly let cinnamon spice scented flames burn me to death,”

You giggle at his words. Poor Adam, always taking the worst of Mattys jokes, if you could even call them that. Accepting his decision to keep the candle lit, you pull the blanket over your shoulders. Your eyes shut and you can feel butterflies in your stomach. Butterflies, really? Jesus fucking christ.

You're scared to open your eyes, scared to even look at Matty. Maybe it was a mistake. He's your best mate. That kiss didn't mean anything, especially not to him.

A million thoughts race through your head, and you shove them into a small corner of your mind. Ignore ignore ignore, it didn't mean anything. He's just some wanker who picked you up at a bus stop three years ago and somehow became your best mate. He's just some guy you share a bed with sometimes. He's just some guy who lights your spliffs for you. He's just some guy who you kissed on a terrace overlooking the city.

Fuck.

#look at me trying to write #cringe #the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #george daniel #drive like i do #matty healy x reader #matty healy angst #matty healy fluff #slow burn #eventual smut #friends to lovers #fallingforyou #dlid #matty healy x you

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