#i can't handle this rn

[philocalistwrites]

[spacemothes]

Its taking everything in me not to put down the art fight attacks I still want to do to make way too much isat fanart right now

[lasttree-garsennon]

26 in 2012 WAIT A DAMN MINUTE SHE'S NINETEEN?!???!?

[soup-for-my-family]

wtf guys

[deerparty]

THERES NEW ADVENTURE TIME?

[scoups4lyfe]

broooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

DDDDD:

this is so fvcked

"make believe family" VICE NOOOOOOOOOOOOO

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

THIS IS WHERE THEY END IT?????

[okeylokiyuh]

in sobnation for a temporary period because he called me dude. yuh-huh. yep. dude. that's who i am.

[gorillawithautism]

apparently another kid died at trails carolina

i'm not. gonna look into that claim for my own sanity but i swear to fuck if you don't know anything about the troubled teen industry, now is the time to learn

[tbartss]

im so.... the first time sasuke laughs after swearing off happiness, after vowing to plunge himself into darkness, is because naruto threatened to hit him. because of naruto.

[iceclew]

Did I accidently write more than just a few lines of dialogue for this scene?... *shyly fumbling with fingers* 🥹👉👈 maybe...

Sorry, I suck at words and this isn't betaread nor properly proofread and I am not native english, I'm very sorry in advance...

full story down below

(Chappel Roan - Love me Anyway)

(Benson Boone - Slow it Down)

"VICE-CAPTAIN!!!!"

The tiny moving plush-like thing in his hand apparently started screaming as well now.

"WHY ALWAYS MEEE!?!?"

What looked like the chibi mini-version of the Defence Force's biggest trump card, struggled to hold on his thumb, kicking around those little feet of his.

"Well, now I'm quite curious abut THAT story..."

"I CAN'T TURN BACK AND I AM T I N Y !!! (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )"

"I see that... How'd you even get in here?"

Tiny #8 stopped fidgeting a bit. Instead two unproportionally big round dark eyes goggled at him. It was undeniably adorable to look at. "Well after THIS happened, I couldn't grab my phone on the table anymore, so I ran around to find someone, but I figured Narumi and Kikoru would very likely take advantage of my situation and do something stupid with me."

"Oh yeah, they definitely would and I get why, honestly."

"So I ran around to find you, YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW BIG THE 1st DIVISION IS, WHEN YOU'RE LIKE THIS, OK?! And then I saw the slightly opened window and just crawled in... ༼☯﹏☯༽"

"Wait... you know where my temporary place in the 1st Division is located? Why?"

"....Coincidence? (*ﾟｰﾟ) "

He sighed. "Well just when you think you saw everything...Kafka Hibino enters the stage..."

"SIR, WHAT SHOULD I DO?? WHY ARE THESE THINGS ALWAYS HAPPENING TO ME??"

"you really want me to answer that, bud?", he barely tried to hide the undertone of his voice, which left the small creature on the palm of his hand baffled for a second.

"Wha-? HEY, MEAN!! What are you on about!?"（＞д＜）

"Yeah, maybe, I don't know STOP CHANGING in general, like I told you f.ex.. or maybe stick to your training routine without going OVERBOARD on a regular basis? How 'bout that?"

The big dark round eyes got even bigger with every word spoken.

"Yeah, don't look at me like that, I might coincidently got wind of stuff, you know?"

His unexpectedly open and emotional response threw Kafka off. For a second he forgot about his *tiny* main problem, his mind jumped between confused and worried and he couldn't comprehend with his reaction for now. After some awkward seconds in silence, Hoshina's tone grew significantly calmer, but still sort of off to his usual self-assured expression. "Well at least this time you're actually telling me about stuff that bothers you, huh?"

Silence again. While hanging from the palm of his Vice-Captain's hand Kafka realized something (besides his size) was different. His senses grew more aware of his surroundings to find answers.

"Are... are you drunk, sir?"

Besides the slight scent of alcohol in the air, and the - well quite obvious - bottle of sake on the table, the startled twitch on his face confirmed Kafka's guess was right. Other than the sake the only other thing on the table were some snacks. Another odd thing to Kafka, who was used to see Hoshina's surroundings stuffed with documents, loose papers, books and other work related things.

The silence lingered around them uncomfortably. To Kafka's suprise Hoshina was seemingly struggling with words. A look on his face Kafka couldn't remember seeing before. Now his mind definitely jumped to 'worried'.

Hoshina tried to mimic an insulted face and looked away. "A little tippsy at most... I'm off-duty for tonight.." Besides the slightly blushed nose and cheeks, Kafka now noticed some dark circles under red eyes. "..and despite my gut telling me better, I assumed I probably won't be needed anymore today, and that I could hang loose a little. It's not my Division after all, there's another Captain and Vice-Captain in charge here. So I might as well make use of that chance... Should have known, it would end up that way or another.. " He smiled a bit and Kafkas felt like his heart clenching from the sight. "Although I definitely should have placed my bet on YOU to be the reason for that." He chuckled lightly, while his expressions grew somewhat softer.

"I'm sorry, Sir."

"Nah, it's fine. As if I didn't get used to your-"

"I never put much thought to it, but ever since the Defence Force started preparing for the big counter attack on #9 your workload must've at least doubled in the 3rd and 1st Division.. and here I am still taking over the rest of your time as well..."

"Don't like where this is going, officer... You're not starting pitying me, are ya?"

"No I-...I just feel like.. I didn't realize, and there for not appreciated your work enough.." Silence. "And also.." The tiny kaiju had his look glued to the floor in front of him for a while now. "I know you told me to brush it off earlier but,... I truly regret ... not telling you about... #8 n'stuff.. I'm sorry... I'd change that if I could.."

A small plushy-sized Kaiju was gently put back on the ground again. Hoshina scratched his nose for a second, before bending far back to the other side of the room. He grabbed for his smartphone that was burried in piles of carelessly pushed aside documents.

"As I said. You're here now, aren't ya?" When he got his phone he chose to stay laid down on the floor and started typing something on the lightened screen.

A tiny transformed Kafka carefully made his way around and walked up on eye-level with Hoshina's face again. Once again overwhelmed by his current state of being, he let himself fall back on the floor and sat on the ground. "So... what should I do?"

"The first thing WE do is trying to make some calls. But since you seem to be in no life-threatening condition, we might have to wait 'till tomorrow for a first medical examination. If that's the case you'll stay, and I get you down to the lab first thing in the morning."

"Wait!" The tiny Kaiju made a suprisingly far jump right up to Hoshina's chest and pressed the (for him very big) red hang-up button on the screen with both paws. "You're right about that, I won't die this second from being tiny, so we might as well wait for tomorrow."

The questioning look on the opposite's face made a tiny Kafka look away and scratch his neck shyly. "Well, since you're ... I dunno,... I feel like, I can't have you be seen d-dru- .. like this by other officials of the 1st Division, b-because of me..."

A finger poked his forehead, which caused a tiny being like him to fall right back landing on warm soft fabric of Hoshina's shirt.

"Idiot. But you might be right about that."

[compressedrage]

I need Chosen to interact with the RYGB after all this is over. (If they do it during this arc I wouldn't be opposed to that either)

I need Chosen to find himself surrounded by terrifyingly competent 12 year olds who think he's the coolest thing since netherwart.

[primarinite]

here are the evos for my pmd hero and partner designs!

[loverboybrightsideghost]

rqg wilde gravestone that reads "third time's the charm ;)"

[marc--chilton]

hang on i'm once again thinking about house being stupid with love. stacy moved in with him a week after meeting him. that's HUGE change. could you imagine how much he'd have to be obsessing over her to make HIS home THEIR home??? and he still wasn't over her 5+ years later after everything either.

(and like. i wonder if there was ever a moment there for wilson where he's watching house and stacy be so witty and beautiful and in love together and thinking to himself, huh. so this is what that feels like.)

[ofbakerst]

[cowboylor]

cabin fever

the studio begins to feel small with george and matty. 

wc: 4k

warnings: (18+) smut, oral (m. receiving), unprotected sex, threesome, voyeurism, degradation, thigh riding, teasing, smoking, consensual workplace relations? (matty and reader have an implied situationship)

note: this is only what i can describe as a doozy

You’ve asked Matty three times already if he wanted you to go on another coffee run and he’s dismissively waved you off with a grumble each time. This leaves you with no choice but to perch on the edge of the couch, picking your nails and listening to the same demo blast through the speakers for the past three hours. 

Matty’s brow furrows. “Play it back.”

George sighs but relents by pressing the playback button.

He runs his hands over his face, muttering, “’s not like it changed from the last ten times we’ve listened to it.” 

Huffing, you shift in your seat. 

You’re past trying to get comfortable and past the hopeful idea you could rest your eyes until they’ve finished editing. The repeated track gives you a headache and only reinstates the thought that you really don’t know what else Matty needs you here for.

Sparing him a glance, you watch him mouth along to both lyrics and rhythm, tapping his fingers against the desk as he searches for anything he dislikes about the track.

You lean back. This day really should be over.

Daydreaming about a shower and your freshly-washed duvet cover has been the only thing keeping you sane throughout the day. Your errand running has proved to be your least favorite thing about being his assistant but the most needed thing when it came to perfectionist musicians. 

You glance outside the hallway to see the darkening window. You have to be the only three left in the studio. Every other member of their congregation has gone home by now.

Matty and George have a hushed conversation five feet away from you. Their secrecy has you rolling your eyes.

You pick and rub your eyes.

“I think we’re in for it,” George says finally, fidgeting with one of the many buttons across the set up until the song is paused. 

You perk up. “I’ll get coffee.”

“Don’t need you to get coffee,” Matty huffs at your constant insistence. You’re moving to grab your keys and bag anyway when he turns his chair to look at you. “I need you here.”

You meet his stare blankly, clutching your keys in your hand as he scolds you. George turns to eye both of of you, then shoots you a pointed look as if to say Don’t push it. 

“Why?” You groan.

Matty lights a cigarette and waves it in his hand for effect. “Unbiased opinion, secondary source, untrained ear–” You don’t give him the smile he’s looking for. “–my muse.”

You chuckle sardonically, repeating his words syllable by syllable, “My muse.”

He exhales smoke, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards as you also fight off an amused grin. He looks handsome like this; with his under eyes slightly drawn out and his hair free of gel. You would’ve told him so if not George being in the room.

“Exactly, love.” He nods.

You want to argue that you can’t be his muse or unbiased opinion; you work for him. Your paychecks have his full legal name scribbled at the bottom of the slip. You get him coffee and equipment and pick up his dry cleaning on days he just wants to spite you. But you don't say this–you just watch him watch you.

Turning back, George shakes his head. “Christ.” 

You sigh as they both become preoccupied with the soundboard again. In metaphorically defeat, you drop your purse back on the couch.

+

The untrustworthy coffee machine is your safe haven. You would rather venture into the break room of the studio, under the flickering lights and all, than sit in solitude and listen to Matty and George mess about for another minute. Dragging your feet to the counter, you begin to make a pot. If anything, the coffee-making is for your sanity.

While flicking on the power button, you go over grocery lists, bills, and the dinner reservation you need to cancel for Matty tomorrow.

You watch the dingy pot begin to fill right as the door to the break room creaks open. 

You whip around to see George.

You raise your brow at his uncharacteristic leave. “Hi?”

He wanders into the break room like he’s unsure of himself. His grey sweats hang from his hips and you can make out a flash of skin from when he stretches his arms and his hoodie rides up because of it.

Your face warms.

George looks good. George looks really good. 

“I was going to piss,” He says like he's explaining his departure from the studio. “Then I saw you.” 

“Ah,” You rub your hands over your eyes in a half-hearted attempt to stop your gaze from wandering down to his waistband. “Piss break.”

He laughs and then glances at the brewing pot. His brow furrows: “Fulfilling your unsolicited desire to get coffee?”

“Can’t help it,” You mutter, agitated and sore. “It’s like I have fucking cabin fever or something.”

He nods but then eyes you carefully. You suddenly grow self-conscious over your appearance. Your makeup is bound to be smeared by your constant rubbing and you would say you’re in desperate need of an everything shower, but his eyes still skirt over you slowly–like he’s unapologetically checking you out.

Then he glances at his watch and you can breathe again. 

“Maybe you should go home,” He says sympathetically in a way that has you shaking your head. Then in reference to Matty adds, “He’ll get over it.” 

“Not at this point,” You huff a laugh, craning your neck to stare up at him directly. “I’m no quitter, George.”

A brief pause.

His eyes give you the up-down again. “I believe it.” 

Coffee filters loudly to make up the silence between the two of you. 

“Well,” You say, switching off the machine and gathering three cups in hopes of looking busy. “I hope you have a great piss.”

He chuckles wryly. “I’ll try my best.” 

You shake your head when he leaves, pouring questionable brew into styrofoam cups and muttering a string of “Fuck me”’s.

+

The coffee was left untouched by Matty and you know he’s purposefully ignoring it just to irritate you. George takes occasional sips from the small cup if only to humor you. 

Your eyes are closed by this point; listening to every word, pitch, and musical texture there is drone from the speakers of this godforsaken studio. 

“Shit,” Matty curses after the demo nears an end. “Let’s scrap it–Deal with it later.”

“Later is now.” George bites back. 

You hear a click and the track falls silent.

“Then, fuck,” Matty’s frustrated laugh rings out. “I don’t know. Maybe we need to try something new.”

For a moment, there’s silence in the room. Pure, unfiltered silence that makes your chest swell with satisfaction and gives your budding headache momentarily relief.

Wait. 

Your brow quirks up in confusion. Raising your head from the cushion you open your eyes slowly. When you see the joints in their hands, you roll your eyes so far back it aches.

“You’re joking,” You mumble, tucking your knees to your chest as you nestle further into the couch. “I’ll never get to leave.” 

“It’s called the creative process, love,” Matty quips without turning around. 

George stretches to pass you the poorly rolled blunt. “Don’t want you to feel left out.”

You accept it begrudgingly, pouting at his slightly facetious expression until he swivels back to the soundboard and you’re left blinking dully at their backs. You lightly suck air through it and then rest your head on the back cushion. 

The demo is being played over again and they bicker when it comes to the last section of notes. 

Another puff. You’re going stir-crazy. 

You watch the clock on the wall until your eyes burn and the ticking begins to sound like the song that’s being blasted through the speakers. 

“The hell am I doing,” You mumble to yourself. You brush your wrinkled clothes down and fix your hair before clearing your throat. “Can I do something other than watch you roll joints and bicker? Be helpful?”

They turn to eye you carefully, finally acknowledging your frustration. 

The corners of Matty’s mouth fight to twist into a smile and you glower at him–always taking the piss out of you when you get like this.  

“What?” You snap.

“Wanna be helpful?” Matty asks.  

George glances over, saying his name as a warning for whatever he might say next. Matty doesn’t acknowledge it, still looking you up and down with a familiar glint in his eye. 

He chuckles, “I know how you can be helpful.”

You grow silent, eyes narrowing and flicking between the two, feeling like you’re being left out on a joke.  

George sighs and shakes his head. “God, you’re a twat.”

“How?” You question, still mildly confused about what exactly he’s implying.

Because he couldn’t be implying that. And if he even is, you’ve never done anything in the studio. With someone like George there. You’re disbelieving; you want to draw it out of him, make him say it. “How can I?”

Matty taps his right thigh. “Take a seat.”

He absolutely could be implying that.

Your jaw hangs open for a second. 

But then, wanting to spite and wipe the shit-eating grin off his face, you wander over to him. Plunking down on his thigh, Matty spins you back into his chair, pressing you against the desk and his chest while he goes back to fiddling with buttons like this isn’t out of the ordinary.

Straddling your employer’s thigh definitely violates all codes of ethics. But none of them feel as entertaining as sitting in Matty's lap.

You try to share a look with George from beside you but he avoids your eyes, instead muttering, “Let’s get back to it, then.”

+

You’re flushed against Matty by the time they’ve moved on from the last demo. Now, they’ve moved onto the particulars and you’re growing a different type of frustrated. 

When Matty talks his breath courses down your neck and makes you feel warm in every way possible. You’re fighting the urge to nestle into him, bury yourself in his neck and be closer to him–until your face grows unbearably warm and you become embarrassed about how just sitting on his lap is drives to this point.

Because this is all a game to him. And you play into it perfectly every time he beckons you.

But George–

George can’t even look at you while you’re on top of Matty; avoiding your eyes altogether and talking brashly to his bandmate like you’re not even there. And you can’t help but subconsciously long for his attention again. Whatever that looked like before–however he was looking at you in the break room.

Matty brushes his hand behind your neck before tsking: “It’s rude to stare, you know.”

You avert your eyes from George.

“While you’re in my lap, too,” He scolds quietly.

He chuckles at the reaction, making shivers travel down your body. 

You shift on his thigh, your body growing intolerant of the compromising position he has you in. You grab onto his arm that holds you at the waist, dragging your nails across his forearm. 

“I’m still your favorite,” His lips find the crest of your ear again to murmur. “Right, babe?”

You bite your lip to silence a whine as his fingers toy with the hem of your skirt. Watching his fingers go lower until your mind starts to cloud.

“You–” You breathe out sharply, brow furrowing as you struggle to not yell at him. “–were never my favorite.”

His laugh even sends chills down your spine and you lean into him, pressing yourself against him in an effort to get any relief for the pooling heat in your stomach. 

“Stop fucking around,” George mumbles more to Matty than to you.

You watch him fiddle with the amp set up beside the desk; you can’t tell if he’s actually unhappy with the sound system they’ve been using for the past ten hours with no complaint or if he’s looking for any reason not to look at you. 

“I’m completely present,” Matty insists, removing his arm from your waist to make an example of being hands-free. “But she can’t help it; I think she has a crush on you.”

You sit up straight at the accusation but find that you have no reason to be embarrassed because Matty’s right–you are in another man’s lap. He toys with the tip of your chin as you do your best to sneer at him.

George glances at you quickly and your cheeks burn. 

“Matt,” He sighs. “Don’t be a dick.”

“’m serious,” Matty defends, looking at your poker face expression you hope comes across as disinterested. You may be sitting in his lap but you’re unbothered by all of it. You’re cool, you’re collected, and you definitely won’t give him the reaction he’s looking for– “Bet she thinks about you fucking her all the time.”

Fuck him. Absolutely fuck him. 

You shift your hips at the thought and roll them against his thigh. His expression remains the same. If not for a sly smirk at your physical reaction because it was a reaction nonetheless.

“Is it true? Think of our George like that?” He teases, tapping a finger against your thigh. “That's so naughty.” 

Heat spreads between your legs and the tips of George's ears turn crimson. 

But now, you can’t help but picture what George would look like when he’s in you. How he would sound, where he would put his hands while he's fucking you. And soon you’re moving against Matty in a way that you wouldn’t have fathomed an hour ago.

“Thoughts?”

Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.

You blink at Matty. “About what?”

“The song,” He says.

You pause, staring at George and his slightly more readable expression as his eyes wander down to your thighs and the way they’re glued to Matty’s. Watching carefully as Matty slips his hand into your skirt to swipe his finger under the elastic band.  

“It’s nice, yeah,” You reply, gasping sharply when Matty prods at your folds. Your eyes flick back to George and he's not looking away this time. You whine when his finger teases over your clit. Arching back into Matty, you mumble through half-lids, “I fucking love it.”

His finger circles in ragged motions, making you jerk into him at an unrhythmic pace that has you uncomfortably screwing your eyes shut in frustration and grabbing him by the arm: “Matty.”

He smirks, knowingly. “Yeah, babe?”

“You're–” You sigh. “You're trying to be annoying.”

He barks a laugh at this, slipping his hand out of your underwear to give you a gentle slap on the thigh.

“Bein' so ungrateful.”

You mewl at the loss of friction but are too proud to beg for it. Your eyes wander back to George and his stiffened stature as he watches you with a slack jaw.

“Grab me that mic, yeah?” Matty says to you as your gaze lowers to George's lap. Sighing, he grabs your chin to redirect your line of sight. “Right over there.”

Right over there happens to be on the other side where George sits. Without thinking too much about it, you’re getting up from Matty's lap and leaning over George to reach it.

You don’t so much apologize for the reach before looking up at him.

“Need anything?” You prod.

His eyes run over you; his gaze dropping down to your disheveled skirt before traveling up to your blown-out expression. You plead with him through your eyes, glancing down to his lap to stare at the bulge in his sweatpants.

“Fuck it,” George exhales, pausing the track with one hand and beckoning you with the other. “C'mere.”

He holds your hand while guiding you on top to straddle him, mumbling in your ear something along the lines of you being a ‘minx’ as you settle in his lap. While your hands go straight to the neckline of his jumper, his go straight to your cunt.

Slipping his fingers past the material, you gasp into his shoulder, breathing out a pitchy ‘oh god’ as he’s quick to work against you.

“Good?” He says, making tight circles around your clit. Then to tease his bandmate, chides, “Better?”

Matty rolls his eyes. "Oh, fuck off."

Numbly, you nod into him, rolling against his fingers as he nips at your neck. Your fingers etch into his neckline, clutching the material like you're desperate to cling to him as he prods at your bundle of nerves.

“Are you going to fuck me?” You ask brashly, through ragged breaths.

You're tired of waiting; you've made it clear for the past three hours.

His chuckle is low against your ear. “Would you like that, sweet girl?”

You assure him you would through hurried moans and shifting your hips against him as he pulls the thin fabric of your underwear to the side. Letting him kiss down the side of your neck, you turn to look at Matty.

He stares at you through parted lips as he watches you get off with his best mate. He gives you a wink before he fishes for some packing paper.

“This alright?” George asks, guiding the tip of his cock into you.

“Yeah,” Your lips are on the cusp of his ear as he does, splitting in two when he pokes at your entrance. “Yes, yes.”

Matty busies himself by rolling another joint, only peering up to watch you sink onto George’s cock. 

A loud moan rips through you, prompting Matty to quip: “Everything alright, love?”

“Fuck off,” You repeat his words back to him through gritted teeth.

He chuckles. “Ever the professional.”

You don't care for his banter right now. Your mind is cloudy and the only thing you can focus on is George's grip on you as the way he raises your hips up to fuck into you.

“You’re huge,” You whine into his ear without thinking too much about it. 

His fingers dig into your waist as you wrap your arms around him. 

“'Told me you weren't a quitter," He mumbles though you can practically hear the smirk threatening to break on his face.

You watch your cunt spread around his cock, over and over again until everything feels white-hot and is searing through your body.

He stills his hands, making you hiss as you let him stretch you out fully. You begin to protest the lack of movement, shifting your hips forward until you whimper at the intensity of it all. Ignoring it, you lift your hips off him again. If George wants you to ride him you will.

But then he slaps your thigh. “Bend over.”

He wraps his arm around you to situate you as you look around the studio. Looking for a place where you could bend over in a practical manner. You furrow your brow, a choked sob buried in your throat as the ache between your legs grows more intense with every passing second of no one touching you.

"Need to be told everything?" George teases, turning you around to push your lower back down into the desk. Bend over meaning here, you think as you rest your burning cheek against the counter. He pushes his hips back into you with a groan. "Bein' so patient."

Patient, patient, patient.

You groan into the desk. You don’t want to be patient anymore.

“Shit.” You hiss as you feel your walls tug onto him greedily. "Please, please, please."

Matty's laugh ringing out makes you tilt your gaze over to him. Smoking surrounds him as he toys with one button on the soundboard (perhaps mockingly) by rolling it on the tip of his finger.

You whine, dipping your head down again as George's hips snap against yours roughly.

Matty whistles, lowly. "Soundin' a little pathetic, love."

The edge of the table is malleable in your grip. You gape at Matty who looks at you with interest. You plead for him with your eyes.

“Matty.”

“Yeah, babe?”

Your nails dig into the wood. “Need you.”

He hums like he's considering. "Need me?"

You don't respond; instead, you chant a chorus of 'please' to George as he grazes that one spot inside you. It makes your eyes roll back and gasp into your hand until you're blinking repeatedly in an effort to see straight.

Only then, Matty's convinced.

He makes a show out of unbuttoning his pants and pushing down the elastic band of his boxers but you can barely see straight as you bobble forward. 

You can make out him pulling out his cock, stroking himself a few times while peering down at your submissive state. You think he’s going to make you beg for him and you almost sigh in frustration at the thought because you really don’t have the energy for that right now. 

But he just grins at you and says, “Open up.”

And you do. 

When he juts his hips into your mouth, you’re steadying yourself with one hand and you’re feeling up his thigh with the other. He busies himself with your hair, tugging it forward roughly until your lips reach the base of his cock.

"My girl," Matty sighs as you hallow your cheeks around him. "My girl is so helpful–isn't she?"

George's hand presses down to your middle back–maybe in agreement with what Matty said–as your name falls from his lips.

"Gonna let me come in your mouth?" Matty muses while gathering a fist of your hair in his hand. His hips stutter, jerking back when he feels you moan around him. "Fuck, you always take it so well."

Your lips grow numb just as you feel your body build to a climax. You know George is close with the way he's grabbing at your hips as he plows into you. Your stomach coils as you push your hips into him–wanting him to finish, wanting Matty to finish as you work against them.

Matty's grip on your hair lifts you up so you can see him. His teasing smirk is vacant, just watching your expression as his mouth forms an o shape and he's bringing you roughly down on his cock until he's coming in your mouth.

Swollen and raw, you swallow (because you always do).

When you come you're arching into George and then pulling your hips away from him as you grapple with the sensitivity bundling in your core. His hand falls between your legs as you jerk against him.

His thrusts turn sloppy, lazily bucking into you until he's flushed against your ass and spilling into you. You breathe his name repeatedly as your body comes down; pushing up from the desk you move to stand, leaning back against George.

And then his hand disappears from in between your legs and he's pulling up your panties that stretched around your thighs. You let him mess with your skirt until he's pulling it down your ass and brushing down the material like he's concerned with making you appear decent.

Amused and out of breath, you stare at him as he fumbles with the material of his sweats. Shifting your gaze, you watch Matty–whose hair is even more disheveled now–tuck himself back into his pants.

His eyes catch yours and you expect him to beckon you back to him with the wave of his hand. Matty gives you a lopsided smile and your heart twinges.

"One more thing, babe," He says, fiddling with the buttons of his trousers.

You realize George's come is soaking through your underwear and running down your inner thigh when you start to wander over to Matty.

Squeezing your legs together, you burn hot.

"Coffee," Matty finally says and you blankly stare at him. He grins, and you can't find it in yourself to despise him for it. Not ever. "Hot coffee would be great right now."