#love matty healy

[r0ckstargirlfriend]

the 1975 tour zine

[carcr4shhearts]

"trying to hold the heart that can't be stored"

[unoriginalsins]

goodmorning 🌨️

[bl33dings-incidental]

FLASHING IMAGES!!!

———

we’re just left to decay / modernity has failed us / love it if we made it

———

To all queer people, poc, women, children, immigrants, muslims, and anyone else who will be devastatingly affected by Project 2025:

stay alive, we still have love. love and hate are the strongest things we have right now. hold your lovers close, and your enemies closer. there is strength in community, and change in defiance.

[sugar-coat-it]

Love Me! (If That’s What You Wanna Do)

Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals <3

Fem! Reader

Contains: Sub!Matty, Matty being bratty, hair pulling, jealousy, male masturbation, nipple play, praise (good boy), riding.

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Matty guides his girlfriend through being dominant for the first time.

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WC: 4.5k

You knew Matty liked to put on a show, but this was just too much…

You watch as he sings into the microphone, the stage lights bathing him in purple and pink hues while he reaches for the buttons of his blouse. The shrill screams from the audience almost pierce your ears as he undoes them one by one. His inked skin is revealed inch by inch until his shirt lays open on his chest, a useless accessory hanging off of his shoulders. You swallow thickly, the tight, black leather of his pants sitting so low on his hips that the band of his Calvin Klien boxer briefs is visible, his v-line and sharp hip bones on full display. The ravenous girls at the stage barrier look like they want to eat him alive. You can’t blame them.

Matty waltzes about the stage like he owns it, swinging his hips and swigging his wine, lips stained a dark, salacious shade of red. You know he can feel your eyes burning into him. In fact, you’d bet anything that he’s counting on your attention. He’s doing almost everything except getting on his knees and begging for it.

He approaches the barrier, allowing stranger's hands to grab at anything they can reach, a sea of nameless faces touching his hair, his chest, his face. It’s worship, in a sense. He smiles like he deserves it.

Matty catches your stare, eyeing how your arms are wrapped tightly to your chest. You can’t find a way to hate his audacity. He wears it too well, even as he shoots you a wink while hands that aren’t yours feel his skin.

You’re fuming by the time the show ends, watching the boys take their bows while you simmer in your jealousy. No greeting is necessary when Matty comes backstage. He just smiles as you grab him by the wrist, pulling him to the nearest dressing room while he lazily tags along behind you. You don’t even bother to look back at him. You walk with purpose, ushering him into the room and locking the door.

Your chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, your mind racing as you take a few menacing steps forward until he’s backed up against the door. Cornered. A smirk pulls at Matty’s red-stained lips, feeling the possessiveness radiating off of you in waves. Your eyes have a wild look to them, and he’s just relishing in it. He knows you’re not just jealous and pissed off. You’re turned on. It’s all over your face. You’re painted with a flush like a mark of your hypocrisy.

"What are you doing?" you snap.

“What d’you mean?” he answers casually, his gaze flickering over your face. The cocky glint in his eyes is simply insufferable. You’re only feeding into his satisfaction, and it’s making you want to sink your teeth into him, rake your nails down his back. Make him squirm.

"What do I mean? Flirting with the girls in the audience? Letting them fucking grope you?” you snap, looking him up and down in disbelief.

“Babe, it’s all part of the show. They wanted a little piece of me, was just giving them what they wanted.”

As if you don't know that. Almost every single girl in that audience wanted him to take them home. Your face feels hot. He just. Won’t. Behave.

"Your pants are so low, I can practically see your dick," you bite, your upper lip twitching with annoyance, "And so could everyone else."

Matty chuckles, his tongue darting out over his lips to wet them. Your eyes follow his movement, but you tear your gaze away like you’d been burned, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your lust. He slowly takes your hands into his, placing them on his warm, bare chest. Your breath catches as he begins to guide them down his slender frame, almost like a peace offering, until he ruins it.

“Maybe I wanted them to know what I’m packing,” he quips.

Just as your fingertips graze the rose tattoo on his hip, you yank your hands out of his grasp.

“Jesus christ,” you mutter, your frustration bubbling up dangerously inside of you.

“Oh, come on, it was a joke,” he defends, rolling his eyes, “My dick is yours. Is that what you want me to say?”

You reach for his hair, grasping a fistful of his dark curls and tugging until his chin is tilted upwards. You don’t pull hard enough to hurt him. You know the gasp he makes isn’t out of pain. You see the flash of surprise in Matty’s eyes, having never been handled like this by you before.

“Do I not give you enough attention? Is that it?” you sneer, narrowing your eyes at him.

Matty’s breath shudders, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a thick swallow. He looks a lot more harmless like this with his throat bared to you.

"You give me plenty of attention, love. I just like to play around a bit. It's all harmless fun, yeah?" Matty smiles, trying to downplay how much your hold on his hair is affecting him.

"You like it?" you murmur lowly, your eyes boring into his, “Watching them go crazy for you? Feels good, huh?”

Matty nods, his pretty lips parted with shallow breaths as he peers down at you, not fighting the way you keep his head back. You hum softly in response, knowing he’s being honest. He’s a natural frontman, and of course, he thrives on attention.

"Do you ever want any of them?" you mutter, your grip tightening just slightly, making him moan softly. The air changes between you for a moment.

“No,” he says instantly, his eyes widening in a slight panic, “No, never, love. I swear. Only you. Couldn’t hold a fucking candle to you, my love.”

You nod, satisfied with his answer. You let out a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding. You didn’t know how much you needed to hear that until it felt like you could breathe again.

“So, what? Why were you being a tease? Wanted to rile me up ‘cause you were feeling needy?” you coo with faux empathy, your tone almost mocking.

“Smart girl,” he grins, “Yeah. Wanted to see you all worked up and possessive and stuff. It’s hot.”

You huff, your face burning as you let go of his hair, knowing you’d played right into his hands and he loved every moment of it. Matty chuckles, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair away from your eyes. His touch is gentle, a contrast to the cocky expression on his face, that lazy smirk that you just want to wipe off. He takes a step away from you as if he’s off the hook, scot-free.

“You didn’t like the striptease?” he says, tilting his head at you condescendingly.

He’s not going to get off that easy. You deliberately stand in his way, keeping him trapped between the door and your body. Your breathing is heavy, your eyes piercing into him like you’re contemplating what to do with him. Matty could probably push you off of him, but he doesn’t. He stares at you like a deer in headlights. He’s close enough to you that his hot breaths fan across your lips.

“What? Gonna punish me?” he asks, his voice wavering more than he’d intended, his taunt falling flat.

“Maybe I will,” you shoot back. You’re bluffing, but he doesn’t need to know that.

You have no clue where your next words come from, but they’re already falling from your lips like they’re being spoken for you.

“Go and sit on the couch.”

For just a second, Matty looks genuinely rattled before he shrugs, slipping out from between you and the door. He straightens up, starting to stride towards the red, velvet loveseat.

“As you wish,” he says, a challenge laced in his tone.

Matty takes a seat, leaning back against the pillows carelessly with his blouse still open and hanging at his sides. You follow after him, knocking his legs open with your knee so you can stand between them, towering over him. It feels good. Powerful, for a change.

“If you like being watched so much, I’d like to see a show,” you declare, peering down at him.

Matty’s brows furrow slightly, hardly able to recognize the fiery girl above him, his eyes flickering over you with astonishment. He clears his throat, shifting on the couch.

“Yeah? What kind of a show are we talking about, babe?”

“One that your fans aren’t allowed to see,” you answer, your voice dripping with implication.

You reach down, running your fingers through his mop of hair, watching as he automatically leans into your touch, reaching to hold your arm. The look in his eyes… he’s enjoying this as much as you are. He’s not new to submission.

You feel the fire inside you being stoked, building and sparking, flames upon flames. You want to explore this. You want to know what it’s like to have control over the great Matty Healy.

“Alright. Let me make it up to you. I’ll do anything. Just tell me,” he murmurs, turning his head to kiss your wrist.

"Oh, you're playing nice now?" you say, raising your eyebrows at him. Your mind swims at the idea. Anything? He’ll do anything?

You glance off to the side, biting at your lip. It's clear that he means it, but you find yourself stonewalled by the thought of actually taking what you want and being commanding the way he can be with you. You can almost feel your confidence and fire from earlier draining from your body. Sure, you’ve fantasized about what it would be like to be in control, but now that it’s happening, you have no clue what to say or do that will be sexy and domineering. “Take your pants off, now”? No. No, that’s stupid. “Whip it out”? God, no. That’s worse. So much worse.

Matty’s expression softens at your uncertainty, finding it endearing and arousing all at once. He gently reaches to hold your hip, his thumb rubbing in little circles. He can see the way your conflicting thoughts have left you frozen.

"Hey, it's alright, love. It’s just me. You can tell me what you want. I'll give you anything. Just ask, yeah?" he says, speaking softer than before, the heat between you temporarily put aside as you try and wrap your head around the role reversal. “I want you to.”

You nod, focusing on the soothing feeling of him rubbing your hip, small circles that keep your feet grounded. Deep breath…

"Wanted to watch you touch yourself," you admit.

Matty’s eyebrows raise slightly. You search his eyes for aversion, but all you find is curiosity in their depths. The gears in Matty’s head are turning.

“Oh, do you now?”

“Mhm. Would you?”

He reaches for your other hip, beginning to guide you to sit on his lap until your legs are straddling him. You place your hands on his chest for support, your breathing shallow. There's a whole swirling mix of feelings inside of you: anxiety, desire, curiosity… but mostly need.

“Yeah, love. You wanna sit right here and watch me do it?” he says, his voice gravelly, “Touch myself right here in the dressing room?”

“Oh god, yeah,” you breathe.

Matty chuckles, leaning in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers.

"You're so sweet like this, all nervous.”

You shake your head as he starts to tease you, inching one hand up his chest to his neck, holding it there possessively. Not squeezing, but just resting, your fingertips brush over his throat. Matty smirks.

"No, no, don't do that. I'm still ticked off," you murmur.

"Oh, yeah? You still annoyed? What do I have to do to make it up to you?"

“Let me… let me be in charge,” you whisper.

Matty nods slowly, glancing down at the hand around his neck, his breathing a little heavier. He wants to let you have this because, really, it’s so hot for him to see you this way. He’s finding himself a bit lovestruck over being manhandled. He reaches up and places his hand over the one on his throat, gently holding it there before he looks up at you.

“Tell me what to do,” he says.

"Okay... okay," you whisper, bringing your other hand up to knot into his hair, "... kiss me."

“Yeah,” he murmurs, tilting his head up, “I can do that.”

His lips are on yours instantly, making you melt in the way only he can. It’s deep. He has your lashes fluttering as he licks into your mouth, his hands firmly on your hips. You rub your thumb up and down subtly against the column of his neck as your lips lock, the heat between you spiking.

“I’m yours… baby, please,” he murmurs against your lips, making warmth flush through your body.

Releasing your hold on him, you kiss from the corner of his swollen lips down Matty’s neck, feeling a pang of satisfaction at the way he instantly tilts his head for you. He lets out a low moan while you kiss and nip with your teeth, being unapologetically greedy with him.

“Fuck,” he whispers, his hips twitching under you, “Mark me.”

And you do. You suck and kiss at his collarbones until you’ve littered him with love bites. By the time you’ve pulled away, Matty looks desperate. He’s hard and aching under your thigh. His cheeks are flushed, his pupils blown wide as he softly pants.

“You’re— you’re looking at me like you wanna devour me,” he pants.

“Maybe I do…”

Matty shudders, taking your hand to kiss your palm with reverence, his deep, brown eyes locked on yours. The eye contact alone is enough to make the air feel electrified as he kisses his way up your arm.

“I can perform for you, baby,” he whispers, his voice laced with submission. Matty spreads his legs wide under you, his body language screaming surrender as his lips press to your skin, his breathing heavy. “You’re so fucking hot like this. See what you’ve done to me?”

Matty presses his hips up against yours pointedly, letting you feel how hard he is already. The stir between your legs only feels more prominent as he starts to rock against you. You’re soaked. You could really get used to seeing him be so needy.

You hold the side of his face, feeling the heat of his skin as he reaches down his body for the zipper of his leather trousers. Matty taps your thigh, signaling for you to lift your body. His eyes stay locked on yours, not once straying as he shimmies the tight fabric down his legs until they’re around his ankles.

“See something you like?” he whispers, watching your eyes flicker to his briefs.

Something bristles in you at that. He’s getting too cocky for your liking. He’s meant to be here to please you. To be pretty for you.

“God,” you mutter, gripping his jaw, “You’re such an attention whore.”

“Can you blame me? Been wanting your attention all day,” Matty grins, relishing your nails digging into his cheek.

“Well, you have it…” you say softly, your eyes flickering over his face, “Keep going.”

He chuckles, taking one hand and running it down his inked chest lower and lower, over his ribs and his stomach and…

“Whatever you want.”

Matty traces his fingertips over the outline of his erection, biting his lip as he teases himself. His cock jumps under his touch, causing him to shudder beneath you. He suddenly grasps himself through his underwear with a long exhale, his lashes fluttering at the sensation. It feels like every inch of your body was jolted awake at the sight. He starts to rub himself through the fabric slowly, precum darkening a spot on the front of his briefs.

“Is this good? This what you want?” he murmurs, “Me playing with myself for you?”

With a nod, you let go of Matty’s face, running your hands down his chest. You catch the way his hips twitch when your fingers brush his nipples.

“Fuck, touch me more,” he whines, his brows knitting together.

“Keep going, and maybe I will,” you whisper, watching him bite his lip with frustration.

Something possesses you as you reach for his right hand, bringing it to your lips. You kiss each of his fingertips before you spit into the palm of his hand, watching Matty’s lips part with a moan. Hastily, Matty shoves his briefs down just enough for his cock to land heavily on his stomach. He wastes no time, wrapping his slicked hand around himself and starting to stroke. It’s better than you could have dreamed.

“You look so good,” you murmur, thumbing over his chest just enough to make his hips arch off of the loveseat, “Feels nice?”

Matty whimpers as he tightens his fingers around his tip, nodding quickly. He’s so gorgeous, and he’s all yours.

“Yeah, even better when you’re watching me,” he pants, his eyes squeezing shut, “Wanna please you, baby. Wanna get you so wet.”

He starts to buck his hips into his fist, moving in tandem with his working hand. He’s moving faster now, like he wants to give you more, to give you everything. The obscene, slick noises fill the dressing room with his pleasured groans. Your other hand cards through his dark curls, pushing them away from his eyes that are dark with lust and concentration, his cherry lips parted with shallow breaths. He looks desperate, his hand tugging at his cock over and over, getting off on the attention just as much as his touch. With your heated gaze on him, he finds himself nearing the edge so much faster than usual. Matty’s voice comes out in a ragged, pleading whisper.

“Baby, I–” he gasps, running his thumb over his slit, spreading the pearls of precum.

“Hm?”

“I’m… I’m getting close, love. I need you… need you to tell me what to do,” Matty pants, looking at you with his pretty, hazy eyes as his hips rock below you.

“Already?” you smile teasingly, “You want me to take over now since you’re being so good?”

Matty nods vigorously, his eyes widening with need. With a sweet whimper, he takes your hand and places it on his flushed cheek, leaning into your touch desperately.

“Please, please, I’m so good. I’m a good boy. I want you to… need you to,” he mumbles deliriously. God, he really can be so sweet when he wants to be. You feel drunk on his submission.

Matty lets out a whine as you rewardingly pinch one of his nipples, his hips stuttering at the sensation.

“You like being touched like that?” you whisper, running your thumb back and forth over his cheek, watching his eyes roll back in his head.

Matty hesitates, his cheeks flushing a lovely, deeper shade of pink. He curses under his breath, his lashes fluttering as you rub in small circles on his chest.

“Yeah,” he admits breathlessly, too high on pleasure to truly feel embarrassed, “I’ve not… had a girl do that to me before.”

“No? Do you do it to yourself, sweetheart?” you whisper lowly, leaning down to kiss from his jawline to the sensitive spot just below his ear. He nods slowly with a moan, a shiver going down his spine as he continues to jerk himself off for you.

“Sometimes. But it feels much… much better when you do it, fuck.”

“That’s adorable,” you smile, feeling his head loll against your palm, his hair spilling to the side. He’s simply melting.

“Baby, please. I can’t… I can’t. I need you,” he pants, his body starting to tremble as he pathetically tries not to spill all over his fist, his muscles taught.

Your smile only widens against his neck. This is all too satisfying. You place both hands on his face, holding it, brushing a damp section of curls away from his face that’s painted with desperation. You can’t help but take a moment just to admire him, the way his brows draw together tensely as he tries to stave off his orgasm. You almost laugh, thinking about how audacious he was only twenty minutes ago, only to be reduced to a mess beneath you.

“You can stop now, honey,” you murmur, seeing the flash of relief in his eyes as his hand slows to a stop, falling back against the velvet couch.

“Oh christ, I nearly fucking blew my load. You’re terrible,” he shudders, chest heaving as he catches his breath.

“Ah, is that what you say to your lovely girlfriend who’s about to ride you?” you berate teasingly, lifting your hips up off of his lap.

Matty’s eyes go wide as you reach up your skirt and slide your thong down your legs, catching a glimpse of the glistening fabric. He groans softly, grasping your thighs and letting his fingers dig into the meat of them.

“Oh, no, no. Of course not. What I meant was… erm— god, I can’t think. Just fuck me,” he relents with a hazy sigh.

“That’s what I thought,” you grin, reaching to grasp the base of his cock.

You stroke him once, twice before positioning yourself over him, watching his eyes flicker between your face and your body as you run his tip through your folds. You sigh softly as his cock brushes your swollen clit, tossing your head back at the tingles that flood through you. But just when you’re about to sink down onto him, Matty grabs your hips hurriedly, stopping you.

“Wait. Please lift your skirt. Wanna see it go inside you,” he mutters, biting his bottom lip.

You just roll your eyes. He’s such a guy. Yet, you still reach to hike up the fabric of your skirt, keeping it lifted up as you start to slowly lower yourself onto his cock. Matty’s lidded eyes are trained on your cunt, fascinated as he watches himself disappear inch by inch. It never gets old for him.

“Ohh, fuck me,” he mumbles euphorically.

A lazy grin spreads across his face as you start to bounce in his lap, his head tilted back against the couch. You feel so full of him. Your stomach swoops with every rise and fall of your hips.

“Fuck, yeah,” he groans, grasping handfuls of your ass under your skirt, “You’re a sexy domme, sweetheart. Who knew you had it in you, huh? I thought I would have had to take over by now.”

“You talk too much,” you pant, reaching to tug at his hair, keeping his head back firmly, “Was much nicer when you were being good.”

“Fucking shut me up then,” he rasps, “Make me a good boy again.”

With a frustrated huff, you crush your lips to his, kissing him meanly, like you’re trying to bruise him. Matty groans deeply against your mouth, twitching inside of you as he responds in kind, his tongue shoving past your lips. You make out a muffled murmur of “That’s it, that’s how you fucking do it, baby.” The heat radiating between your bodies only spikes higher as you ride him harder. Your eager mouth swallows his whimpers as you give his curls a pull, his hands pitifully grasping at your hips, your ass, anything he can reach. He pushes at your chest, begging for a moment of mercy so he can speak.

“You’re doing so good, making me feel so—” he breathes, his voice wavering as he inches closer to his edge, “‘M not gonna last.”

“Ask me.”

Matty blinks.

“What?”

“Ask me to cum.”

Matty’s breath shudders, his cock giving a strong twitch inside of you. He looks stunned, maybe a bit impressed too. Typically, he’s the one demanding that you ask for his permission to let go. His mind is so loosened by the slam of your hips that he doesn’t hesitate for another second.

“Let me cum. Please, please, my love. Light of my fucking life, my everything, I need it,” he begs, his hand snaking between your bodies to rub at your clit.

“More,” you gasp, warmth blooming between your thighs.

“More begging? Or more of this?” he smiles, pressing down harder against your cunt, making you moan wantonly.

“Both, both,” you nod eagerly.

“Fuck, alright,” he shudders, continuing to circle your clit with his calloused fingertips, “Anything for you. Anything. Just, please, can I cum? I-I seriously can’t fucking do this much longer. I’m so close, so fucking close, baby, please. I’ll be good, I swear.”

Something about hearing him fucking beg has your cunt fluttering around him, the warmth threatening to crash over you. As fun as it’s been, you don’t want to deny him any longer. You want to watch him fall to pieces below you at your doing and yours alone.

“Cum for me,” you gasp, your hips moving furiously on top of his lap, his fingers still pressing on your clit just right.

Matty tries to thank you; he really does, but the words get caught in his throat as his climax rips through him, his back arching as his hips rock heedlessly, spilling inside of you with a strangled cry. The pure ecstasy on his face has you following after him, your pace faltering as the waves of your orgasm have you clawing at his hair. It’s so. So good. Such a different feeling when you’re on top of him, in control of his pleasure.

Neither of you moves an inch for the next few minutes, staying happily collapsed against each other in your shared haze. He holds you close on his lap, enjoying the warmth of still being inside of you. You feel so lazy, like never want to leave this couch. Who knew being in charge was so tiring?

“I should do that more often if it means you’ll ride me like that,” he murmurs.

Your eyes snap open, landing a slight slap on his chest. You can feel the rumble of his laugh against you as he just chuckles.

“I’m just messing. I’m messing, you know I love you,” Matty grins, placing a kiss on your temple, “Next time, I’ll just ask you to be dominant so I can take the night off from doing all the work.”

“I do plenty of work!” you protest with a scoff.

“Yeah, you do,” he coos, petting your hair, “I know, your poor jaw gets so sore.”

“Don’t say because of your massive dick.”

“Because of my massive— OW! Stop smacking me!”

Matty tackles you to the couch, grinning at the sound of your squeal. He stares down at you with his eyes narrowed playfully, slowly starting to lean down until his lips press to the tip of your nose.

“I’m serious though, you were great. Very sexy,” he smiles, tenderly brushing your hair away from your face.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. I’d let you put me in my place any day. My perfect girl,” Matty murmurs, his eyes almost twinkling as they flicker over your face.

“I’d happily do it again, if you deserve it,” you tease, beaming at him.

“We both know I will,” he whispers, leaning down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss.

[robbersinaforeignlanguage]

// Matty and Gabbriette at the GQ MOTY awards in Australia // 04.12.24

[didyoulookforme]

[hatsukeii]

if you're too shy (let me know) / bsf!osamu miya x reader

genre(s): fluff! + bsf to lovers!! they're both kinda stupid but i respect it! this is an apology from me to you for all the shit i've put you through in the past few angsty fics

warning(s): suggestive at the end, but no explicit nsfw, and you can interpret it as literally never happening as well! mc had one meh/bad experience w a hookup and it's mentioned in passing but nothing graphic

wc: 1.7k

tldr; the five kisses that osamu thinks he'd like to give, and the time that he does

#5: Miya Osamu would like to kiss into the palm of a hand

Osamu's hands have been calloused, bruised, and battered from youth. His fingers have caught flying volleyballs by the bloodied tips, knuckles have beaten up Atsumu countless times, palms have scraped and squeaked against the floor of the school gymnasium every day and night. Osamu doesn't remember what it feels to run his fingers across the smooth lines of his palms, or how it feels to touch his bare skin without some scratching sensation from the hardened rounds that decorate his hands.

Tonight, Osamu lies on the rooftop of some bar, the twenty-something people here for Atsumu's MSBY victory party shaking the walls and collapsing the ceiling with bouts of dancing and screaming. The fake grass beneath him cushions his body, bending and curving under his weight, and the weight of another beside him. His head tilts to glance over at you, limbs splayed out across the ground.

"What... whatdya lookin' at... 'samu?"

His head fogs, eyes spinning as he turns back to the starry sky, and the white dots in a backdrop of black begin to draw spirals around his head as he subconsciously rubs at the calluses on his fingertips and picks at the dried skin peeling off his palms. You. He's looking at you. Tonight, he thinks he'll use the sky as an excuse.

"Stars... they're pretty."

#4: Miya Osamu would like to kiss the top of a forehead

The earliest kiss Osamu can recall is from none other than his own mother, who held his face so gently in her equally calloused palms as her thumbs rubbed at the bruise on his forehead, earned from running into a glass panel wall. It must've hurt, Osamu! Be careful! She had said, inevitable tenderness seeping from her angry brows and worried eyes as she pressed a soft kiss into the bruise. The purple stain must've disappeared then and there, healed by a kiss, Osamu thought.

You roll over to lie on your side, and shuffle towards Osamu, who's still picking at nothing on his hands. A whiff of hot breath fans the skin of his ear, and Osamu freezes up at the proximity, shifting in the grass.

"...'samu! areyouuu drunk?"

His ears are red at the tips when you giggle stupidly into them, almost scalding to the touch, like they will melt skin and boil blood at direct contact. You haven't changed one bit since graduating from Inarizaki, still a lightweight, still whiny when alcohol begins flowing through your veins. If he could, he would pick you up, and tuck you into the nearest bed with the blankets up to your chin, just the way you like it, as he usually does when you show up at his house like this on random midnights. This time, he swears the alcohol is getting to his head too.

"Nooo...?"

The ground beneath him collapses when your fingers come up to flick his forehead. He twitches, before shooting up and rubbing at the sore spot. He curses himself for forgetting about the shots from before settling in when his mind blanks and his body sends itself straight back into the grass, the impact forcing a grunt from his chest. You cackle at him, and Osamu thinks he could definitely use a kiss on the forehead right now.

#3: Miya Osamu would like to kiss someone on the cheeks

Whenever Atsumu brings his team along to the store, brooding, foreign men soften into mounds of affection, teddy bears who engulf Osamu in all-encompassing embraces, and push sloppy pecks into both of his cheeks. In these situations, Osamu isn't sure what else to do but stand and let every teammate have their turn. He made an offhanded comment once to Atsumu, something along the lines of not understanding why a kiss on the cheek was the default greeting for foreigners. Atsumu, with grains of rice decorating the corners of his mouth, laughed at his question, and told him, it's the cheeks that smile back.

"Hey...'samu?"

You've propped your head up in your hand, elbow digging into the grass beside Osamu's motionless figure as you lie sideways on your hips, face angled above his own. Your eyes travel to his that stare at the sky, and you swim in intoxicating pools of mercury, bedazzled by the reflections of rhinestones sewn into the night sky. Osamu tries to look at the stars, he really does, yet his noticeable glances at your flushed cheeks are enough to catch your attention. Somewhere downstairs, a bet has been won as fists slam into tables and cheers erupt from the bar. Somewhere on this roof, your hair hangs loose in the elastic that's unwinding from your head, a silk cover draping over a Roman statue.

"Can weee... try something?"

#2: Miya Osamu would like to kiss along the side of a neck

Osamu likes to make fun of you the mornings after you stay over at his place, from the second you shoot up from his bed and storm into his kitchen, where he prepares onigiris to shake away the hangover from the night before. Once, a few years ago, he had to run to the nearest convenience store for bruise cream, all to help ease away purple marks the size of someone else's mouth on your neck. He deliberately fucked around when helping you, poking at different spots until you slapped him and snatched the canister of cream from his hands. Whose fault was it that you now look like you can't 'curl your hair?' He had spat out. Osamu knows that he only made fun of the purple splotches because they weren't his own.

"Are you...sure?"

"Yeaah!"

Osamu is cautious, hands hovering above your waist as the two of you lie on your sides. What he's doing, he isn't sure. After all, in his twenty-four years of living amongst the likes of you, and in eight of those years spent watching you from the corners of his eyes, he has never touched anyone like this. Not their hands, not their face, not their waist. He moves away from your waist, opting to graze his pinky with yours instead. You tangle your fingers with his, holding his hand tight against your own. His calluses are hard beneath your soft palms, toughened through trials of time and effort. You lead his hand up to the side of your neck, and release it there. Osamu lets it mold into the shape of you, palm fitting on your body as if it was carved for only his touch.

"Feels right?"

"...Feels good, 'samu."

You return his touch with a hand cupping his cheek, and something unfamilar, more dizzying than the shots he took, surges through Osamu's entire being. He turns his face to your touch, and his mouth just makes contact with the lines on your palm. They're soft, so warm against his lips, and he presses them a little deeper, a satisfied hum voicing itself from your throat.

"Do you...like that too?"

"I...do. Is it okay if you keep going?"

He nods, pulling your face towards him as he turns away from your palm, and planting a kiss on your forehead instead. Your breathy sigh is music to his ears, and he lets his lips linger on your skin. But Osamu is only doing this for a friend, a friend who is confused about what feels good, and what feels wrong. A friend who hasn't felt genuine touch since the night they showed up at his house, hickeys decorating their neck. He remembers your grumbles beneath your breath as you slathered the cream across every single purple stain, fuck, it hurts. He didn't get it then, and he doesn't get it now. How could this touch ever hurt, when everything about it seems tailor-made for the mouth that gives?

"Was that okay?"

"...Yeah, that was nice."

Osamu's eyes migrate to your cheeks now, flushed and red even in the guise of darkness that encompasses the air around you. He wants to see them smile. He moves from your forehead, and his vision darts between each of your eyes. Your breath hitches at his staring, and it gets stuck in your throat when fluttering warmth lands on your left cheekbone, then your right. His hair tickles your forehead, body now impossibly close to yours as his hands massage and stroke at your neck. You think about slipping your hands beneath his shirt, so you can touch him the way he's doing to you, bare skin and all, and you smile.

"Do you want a few more?"

You don't want just a few more, you want it all.

"Yeah, do what feels right, 'samu."

He grins, dipping into your neck as he peppers kisses across its length. You squirm and giggle at the sensation, his breaths and hair tickling your sensitive skin.

"'S-samu! That tickles! Something else! Please!"

He laughs into your neck, before coming back up to meet your eyes. Your figure is getting blurry beneath his vision, either from the alcohol still running through his system, or something else- something better, more addicting too.

Then Osamu's got his lips on your own, and you're slipping your hands beneath his shirt the way that you thought you wanted to. His torso is smooth beneath your fingertips, and he shivers, sending trembles from his body to yours. He can't see a thing beneath his eyelids, but his hands find the skin of your waist instinctively. His hands were made for this, he thinks. Not to pick at his calluses or to trace lines into his palms. No, they were made for you, made to hold your waist against his own. Your hands travel from his torso to his back, feeling for the dip in his spine as you push him close, even closer than he already is.

"Do you like me, 'samu?" You mumble against his lips at the chance, and he gives you a shit eating, albeit smitten smirk in response.

"I think you know that already. But maybe…”

His head inches towards the side of your own, sending a hot breath into your ear. His hand slides towards the centre of your stomach from your waist, irritatingly slow.

“…I would like you better if you took off your clothes."

#1: Miya Osamu would like to kiss you

author's note:

i'll kiss u fr if u know what song this is made from because i can't get it out of my head like it's SO GOOD also i need osamu like this too he's a YEARNING MAN HERE!!! this is the apology for all the angst i've been pumping out lately i know i've hurt a few souls but it's nothing a yearning osamu fic can't fix bbs

anyways tags!!

@chuuya-brainrot @starlysama @catsoupki @akaakeis @fiannee @bailey-reeds @hiraethwa @iiwaijime

ok bye bye see u next fic pookies love u guys

[wreckedandpolemic]

bad idea right? - matty healy

(mdni) in which calling matty up is a really, really bad idea. but that’s never stopped you before, and it’s not about to start. part of the regret me universe. 3895 words.

warnings: mean dom matty, degradation, oral (m receiving), mild praise, impact play (riding crop), slight overstimulation, toxic codependent losers who won’t admit their feelings

You and Matty haven’t spoken in nearly five months when you call. You’re never the one to break no-contact, so you can hear his concern when he picks up. “Hello?” he says, low and sleep-thick. “It’s the middle of the fuckin’ night. What’s wrong?”

“I need you,” you rush out, helpless. “Can’t stop thinking about you. S’been too long, Matty.”

Matty groans. “You think you can just fuckin’ call me up when you get needy, like you didn’t fuck my life on purpose and then ditch me? Think you can pretend you haven’t been fucking me about for six fucking years? D’you actually think I’m that fuckin’ pathetic?”

He’s angry, you realise with a jolt. The low, dangerous tone of his voice wraps around your brain, melting stickily between your thighs. “Not if you don’t wanna be,” you say, your teasing pout audible. “I need fucked, Matty. You’re the only one who can fuck me right, and we both know it,” you say, letting a soft moan slip past your lips as you circle your clit.

“Are you seriously getting off right now?” he laughs disbelievingly. “Jesus, y’so fuckin’ needy. Such a whore. You want my cock so bad, darling? Beg for it.”

Without missing a beat, your lust-sick brain spills dazed, filthy words from your lips. “C’mon, Matty, please. I need you. Need you to fuck me like you mean it, like you hate me. I don’t wanna be able to walk when you’re done with me,” you moan, grinding the heel of your palm against your clit as you finger yourself, slick sounds echoing down the phone. “M’so fuckin’ wet, you could just stuff me full right now. Could just use me as your little cumdump, take what you need from me and leave. I’d even say thank you,” you add, and you can practically hear his control snap.

“I’ll be there in half an hour. You’re not gonna like what I do if you cum before I get there.”

You laugh, breaking into a moan as you curl your fingers perfectly. “You know I will.”

True to his word, Matty’s letting himself into your flat less than an hour later. By which time you’ve already cum once and are happily bringing yourself to a second. A sick relief floods your body the second your gaze lands on him, and you pull your fingers out of yourself to wave at him with a smirk. “I hope that was worth it, you little whore,” he snaps, shrugging out of his jacket. “Come here, on your knees, now. Don’t fuckin’ mess me about.”

His tone is heady and dark and dominant, dizzying as it slides over your body. “And what if I don’t?” you smirk. “Are you gonna turn around and leave? You already came all this way,” you tease. You’re only bratting for bratting’s sake, seeing how many of Matty’s buttons you can push before he explodes.

“Don’t be a bitch,” Matty scoffs. “If you don’t behave in the next five fucking seconds, I’m going to make the next three days hell for you.”

“Three days?”

Matty smirks. “You didn’t think I was just gonna fuck you and leave, did you? Nah. You wanted me here so badly, called me after months, dragged me out of bed at fuckin’ two AM ‘cause you need me?” He drags out the words in a mocking affect of your voice. “Well, you got your wish, darling. We need to make up for lost time, right? So, if you wanna even think about cumming on my cock, get on your fucking knees.”

This time, you obey, the hardwood of your floor digging into your knees, the pain somehow at once grounding and preternatural. You slide your palms up his thighs, gently mouthing at his cock through his jeans. Your mouth is practically watering as you reach for his belt buckle, choking on your whine of his name when he stills your hands. “You still have your cuffs?” Matty asks. You nod. “Good.” He retrieves them, fastening your hands behind your back and testing the fit. “Does that feel okay?”

“Yeah, feels good, Matty, c’mon,” you whine. “M’sorry, I wanna cum f’you, let me suck you off, please,” you whimper.

Matty laughs cruelly. “You think you deserve my cock? Gonna make you work for it, baby,” he warns, and you just moan, denim rough across your tongue as you lick obscenely at the seam of his jeans. “Needy girl, Christ. You want fucked? Kiss my boots and beg to suck my dick.”

You freeze, humiliation tingling deliciously between your thighs. “I—”

Blunt nails dig into your jaw as Matty forces your gaze to his. “You heard me. C’mon, darling, I know you can do it.” Slowly, like every movement is an agony, you bend until you’re practically prostrating yourself in front of Matty. “D’you remember these shoes, baby? Remember riding my boot ‘til you came all over it? How you were whinin’ and beggin’ like a fucking whore?”

Of course you fucking do. You’re violently flashed back to that night, to the grapple for control, before either of you knew what your relationship would spiral into. You lean in, hating yourself more and more every second even as wetness pools between your thighs, and press a kiss to the leather. You swear you can faintly taste your own arousal.

“Good girl,” Matty murmurs as your lips rove over his boot, kissing along his ankle before you kneel up to gaze at him, head swimming with submission. He raises an eyebrow as if to say go on.

“God, Matty, I need you,” you moan. “Need to suck your cock, want you to fuck my face, please. Wanna feel you, wanna taste you, need you to cum in my mouth, baby. Need to be your cumdump. Just use me, please,” you whine, fumbling with the button of his jeans.

Matty laughs cruelly, freeing his cock and groaning softly as it thuds against his belly. “Open,” he says, soft and almost gentle, hooking a thumb into your mouth and prising it open. You wait, eager, eyes slipped shut and tongue lolling out of your mouth, wanton heat licking up your thighs. A harsh smack of skin on skin makes you gasp, and you open your eyes to realise your cheek is wet and sticky with precum and the sudden sting against your skin is from Matty slapping his cock against your fucking face.

Before you can sputter out a response, Matty’s sliding a hand into your hair and fucking your mouth hard. You moan around him, clinging to his hips as he pours dirty praise into the air above you. “That’s it, good girl. You feel so good, baby. Missed this filthy little mouth. So much sweeter when you’re gagging around me, huh?” You’re powerless, the weight of the cuffs around your wrists and Matty’s hand tight in your hair the only thing keeping you tethered to your body. Tears blur your vision, Matty’s moans loud and obscene above you as you swallow a gag.

You’re barely even giving a blowjob, just letting him fuck your face like a toy and grinding your hips down against nothing. Your cunt is pleading for attention, wrists straining against the cuffs as Matty laughs mockingly. “Needy girl. C’mon, darling, make me cum and you’ll get what you want, promise.” You redouble your efforts, leaning in until your nose is buried in the hair at his base and swallowing around him. You’re trying desperately not to inhale deeply, breathe in the smell of his sweat like you could trap him in your lungs. 

Matty’s fucking you brutally, angrily, and you know you’ll be hoarse for hours when he lets you go. His pace stutters, his breath quickening and you know he’s close. You slide your tongue against the vein on his underside, humming and whining around him. “Shit, m’right there, baby. Fuck, m’gonna cum, shit,” he whines, pulling almost all the way off you so his cum lands on your tongue. The salt of it overwhelms your senses, moaning low in your throat as his cock pulses against your tongue. “Open,” he orders again, and you obey thoughtlessly, letting strings of his cum drip against your chest. “Fuck, makin’ such a mess, darling,” Matty groans, bending low so he can look into your eyes. Before you can even process, a wad of spit lands on your tongue and he’s forcing your mouth closed.

You swallow, slow and deliberate, savouring the messy slide of spit and cum down your throat. “Thank you,” you breathe, voice scratchy.

Matty grins wickedly. “Good girl.” He nudges you to your feet and onto the bed, falling on top of you and kissing you greedily. Ever filthy, he licks into your mouth like he could catch the lingering taste of his cum on your tongue. “What do you need, darling?” 

Gasping for breath, you fight for the words. “You,” you groan. “Anything you want, I’ll take it. Just need you, Matty.” He sucks in a sharp breath, eyes wide.

“Oh, sweet girl,” Matty says, shockingly tender. “Has it really been that long since you got fucked right?” You whine as his fingers find your swollen clit, a jolt of electricity shooting up your spine. You nod, swallowing hard as you meet his intense gaze. “How much work have I gotta do? How many pathetic fucks do I need to make you forget?”

“Too many,” you say, arching desperately up into his touch. “Haven’t cum with a guy in over a month. Had to get myself off after they left. Thought about you every— mmm— every fuckin’ time, how you’d be— fuck— be fucking me so much better, wishing I was goin’ dumb on your— shit, yes— on your cock.”

Matty grins wickedly, sliding two fingers into your soaked cunt. “Did you call my name?” He starts a slow, mean pace, your cunt clenching wantonly around him.

“You know I did. I can’t fuckin’ cum without thinking of you. You fuckin’ broke me. C’mon, harder!” Your back arches, chest heaving. Matty’s eyes fall to your tits, one hand coming up to tug harshly on your piercing. 

“You think you can give me orders right now? Be a good girl and shut up, yeah?” Your jaw snaps closed almost comically fast, teeth clacking together so hard the sound rattles through your brain. “You broke me too,” Matty says, so quietly that you don’t think he realises he’s spoken. He slides his fingers out of you, and you bite down hard on your lower lip to suppress a whine. He grins approvingly. “Here’s what’s going to happen, darling,” Matty says, pausing to suck his fingers into his mouth and clean your arousal off his skin. “You’re going to ride my cock until you cum like you’re fucking gagging for, and then you’re gonna let me do whatever I want, okay?”

Hopelessly turned on, you choke out an answer and let Matty flip you so you’re straddling him. Your eyes roll back into your head as you sink down on him, pure desire cascading down your spine. “Matty, I—”

“Didn’t say you could talk, did I?” Matty scoffs, digging his fingers into your hips to still you. “M’not gonna help you, either. Are you gonna be good, darling? Gonna fuck yourself on my cock like a slut?”

Nodding frantically, you grind your clit against his stomach and soaking up the pleasure that seeps from every point his body meets yours. You lift up onto your knees and slam back down, a whining scream tearing from your throat at the burn between your thighs. “Shit, y’feel so good, Matty. Missed this. Missed you,” you groan, digging your nails into his chest and rolling your hips desperately.

Matty grins lazily up at you, arms propped insouciantly behind his head. He looks so relaxed, it’s almost as if you aren’t there at all, except that he can’t hide the red flush creeping up his cheeks and down his chest. You must look even more wanton by comparison, hair plastered to your sweat-slick skin and soaked cunt dripping around him. “Keep going, baby. You can do it, c’mon.” The degradation slides sweetly around your brain, melting your thoughts until all you know is Matty.

You realise suddenly that your nails are scratching a pattern into Matty’s skin, the same shapes over and over again. Mine. Mine. Mine. Your knees are starting to ache, thighs burning as you ride him, but the idea of stopping doesn’t even cross your mind. Liquid heat thrums in your veins, burning you up from the inside out. Whining his name helplessly, you clench around him, driving your hips down so you can feel every inch. You tip your head back, arching your chest towards Matty and watching his gaze fall to your tits. “You look so pretty up there, darling. You wanna tell me how you feel?”

“Feels s’fucking good, Matty. Been dreaming about your cock for months, baby. Nobody fuckin’ gets me off like you. Wish it could be like this all the time,” you add, barely processing the admission as it slips from your lips, pinching and toying with your piercing with your free hand. Your hips roll, waves of pleasure crashing over you, battering you viciously.

“So desperate, love. Such a slut,” Matty groans, digging his nails into your hips and fighting not to thrust up into you. “Getting close, aren’t you?” He laughs. “Yeah, I can feel you gettin’ all tight around me. You gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna fuckin’ soak my cock like a good girl?” You give a strangled moan, your hand falling to rub frantic circles over your wet clit. Your vision goes blurry, your entire world a haze as Matty draws sharply into focus, his chest heaving and angry marks across his skin. 

Your orgasm slams into you breathlessly, crushing the air out of your lungs as you writhe on top of him. Arousal floods out of you, soaking the sheets under you. Your thighs burn, pleasure shooting up your spine and hammering in the base of your skull. Cunt pulsing, your body goes heavy, slumping as you climb off him. “Thank you,” you murmur, relaxing a little with your body splayed out beside him. “M’ready. M’yours. Whatever you want.”

Matty’s answering smirk is nothing short of cruel; darkly promising as you shiver happily. He climbs over you, straddles your waist, staring down at you with lust-dark eyes. He fists his cock, dripping precum and still wet with your arousal, and groans. “Missed having you like this, baby, all pathetic for me. Gonna look so pretty covered in my cum, God.”

Slick, wet sounds fill the room, your eyes glassy as you watch him. You stick your tongue out provocatively, sliding your hands up his thighs and digging your thumb into the divot in his hip. Matty’s thighs are trembling, lips wet as he breathes shakily over you. You lift your head a little to kitten-lick over his head, and it does him in. A groan of your name spills from his lips, ropes of cum splashing over your face and landing on your tongue. You swallow greedily, grinning blithely up at him as his chest heaves.

“Greedy girl,” he chastises, climbing off you. “Already had my dick in your mouth and your pussy like you begged for, and y’still wanted more, huh?” You nod, turning to hook a leg over Matty and gaze at his pretty, flushed face. “Did I say you could suck my dick?” He grabs your jaw punishingly, the pain spreading under your skin and falling straight to your swollen clit. “Words, baby.”

“N-no,” you stammer, choked through dizzying lust that clouds your brain.

Matty scoffs, shoving abruptly to his feet. “Little cumslut can’t behave herself. What d’you want, darling? Belt or paddle?” Your blood runs cold. That’s your trick; making him play an active role in his own destruction.

You squirm. “I, uh… Got something new. It’s in the, uh. The black box under my bed,” you murmur, flushing ruby-woo and hiding your face in your hands.

You know when Matty’s found it because he breathes sharply in, thwacks it against his palm to test it, scoffs disbelievingly. “S’this what you want, darling?” He traces the leather of the riding crop over your ass almost lovingly, anticipation humming so loud under your skin that it’s almost deafening.

“Yeah. Please.” You flush impossibly redder, squirming desperately.

“Filthy girl,” Matty coos, running his fingers over your ass and squeezing gently, like he’s soothing pain you haven’t felt yet. “You sure? It’s gonna hurt,” he warns.

“S’gonna hurt so good,” you groan, arching your back and pushing your ass up towards him. “Please, Matty. I don’t let anyone else have me like this, I couldn’t do this with anyone else. Wouldn’t trust them,” you confess, breathing laboured.

Matty leans down, brushes the hair off your neck, kisses the skin there. His lips are warm, the touch so tender you could almost believe it were loving. “God, you’re beautiful. Bein’ so good, baby, such a good girl for me.”

You whine. “Stop bein’ nice,” you snap. “If I wanted nice, I wouldn’t have called you. I know you hate me, so fuck me like it,” you say, gritting your teeth.

His answering laugh is low and cruel, sliding deliciously over your brain. “You want it mean, baby? Alright. You know what to say if you need me to stop, yeah?”

Dear fucking God. You’re this close to kicking your legs and pounding your fists. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, green for go, red for stop, I know how to fucking drive.”

Matty clicks his tongue. “Don’t be a bitch. On your knees, face down, ass up, and count,” he orders, and your cunt throbs in response.

“There he is,” you say smugly, moving deliberately slow just to frustrate him.

“Fucking move,” he snaps, gripping your hair and pressing your face into the mattress. “That’s better.” The sound of him shuffling around behind you feels impossibly loud, anticipation tingling in your cunt until— The pain of the leather meeting your ass is sharp, a stinging ache that bleeds into pleasure as it works under your skin.

“One,” you choke out. Matty delivers three more swift, brutal strikes, the pain shocking and new and fucking delicious. Obediently, you count along, sinking into subspace dazed and dizzy. Matty swats at your thighs, over the tattoo on your lower back, every inch of your ass until all you can feel is blinding, mind-wiping, divine pain. You keep counting until Matty hits your cunt, the bolt of sweet agony so instant that your legs give out, a noise of pure pleasure slipping from your lips.

Matty scoffs, grabbing your bruised flesh to shock you back into the present moment.  “Do you know how to fucking count?” he mocks, and you choke out something that sounds enough like the right number to satisfy him. “Still love getting hit there, huh? Slut,” he mutters, so bluntly callous that you wonder if he really means it.

“Love it,” you slur out, voice muffled against your sheets. “Love when you hurt me. Need it. Need you, all the fuckin’ time. Love—” You bite hard on your tongue to silence yourself. Blood pours into your mouth, a fitting punishment as it slides crimson down your throat.

“Yeah,” Matty says faintly. “Me too.” There’s a beat of silence, neither of you willing to acknowledge the words left unspoken, before Matty drags his fingers through your sore, aching cunt. “Look at the fucking state you’re in. Soaking fucking wet, I could just—” He leans down and spits on your cunt, smearing the mess across your swollen clit with his fingertips.

Your back arches involuntarily, pleasure-pain arcing viciously up your spine. Matty grips your hips harshly, digging five crescent moons of greedy desire into your skin, and slams into you hard. A choked whine of his name falls from your lips, one of his hands sliding up your body to grope your tit. You clench around him, vice-like, powerless under him.

“God, this pretty little pussy looks so pretty full of me, darling. All those other guys you fuck, and you always need me, huh? Always come crawling back. Such a fucking cockslut, baby.” You nod wildly, your brain melting into liquid that must be dripping from your ears and puddling on the mattress. “Shit, y’close already, huh? Go on, cum if you wanna, but I’m not gonna stop, okay?”

It’s like your body takes it as permission; your orgasm hits you like a freight train, crushing you under its weight. Your heart races, pure ecstasy crumpling your lungs and clenching in your chest. Your cunt throbs around Matty’s cock, still fucking you brutally deep.

Slick, obscene sounds fill the room, ringing impossibly loud off your walls, and you bury your face in the mattress to muffle your cries. “God, s’too much, Matty, I can’t take—”

“Are you safewording?” Matty interrupts, and you shake your head. “Then you can take it, darling, because I’m telling you to. Whatever I want, remember?” His hips slam against yours, heartbeat pulsing in your cunt with every deep, punishing thrust. “That’s it, baby, I know you can take it. God, you feel so fuckin’ good, m’so close, shit,” he hisses, pace stuttering as he moans your name, low and broken and almost pleading.

“C’mon, Matty, fuckin’ fill me up, make me yours, please,” you whine, arching your back and clenching around his cock until he’s spilling into you with a low groan. Matty fucks you through, cock pulsing and nails digging into your hips. When he finally pulls off you, he’s spent, hair plastered to his forehead and chest heaving with struggling breaths.

You flop down next to him, laughing deliriously and swiping two fingers through your sensitive cunt. The familiar taste hits your tongue, sweet as it slides down your throat, and you grin around your fingers. “See what happens when we don’t leave well enough alone? My ass feels like it’s on fire,” you laugh, resting your head against his shoulder.

“S’not my fault you bought a fuckin’ riding crop,” Matty says, disbelieving. “D’you want me to run us a bath?”

“Mmm, in a minute,” you say, burying your face in his chest and curling close to him. Your heart is still speeding, exhilarated, and all you want is to cling to Matty like an anchor until you drown in him. After a little while, he coaxes you into the bath, holds you until the water goes lukewarm, his hands gentle and tender in a way entirely reserved for these moments.

It’s mostly silent, words gone unsaid hanging in the air between you. You’re right on the cusp of drifting to sleep when Matty speaks. “I don’t, by the way. Hate you.” He pauses, like the words are a struggle to get out, a weight sitting heavy on his chest. “I could never hate you. I hate that I can’t hate you.” He huffs a quiet laugh. “I hate that you can call me in the middle of the night after taking a sledgehammer to my life and I’ll come running. I hate that I need you so much. But I don’t hate you. Not even a little bit.”

You don’t answer.

[nowshesdoingitallthetime]

AHHHHHHHHHHH

[r0ckstargirlfriend]

the girls who understand will get it

[man-im-so-high]

[ro-writesstuff]

he’s so baby girl i can’t 🥺🥺

[bl33dings-incidental]

“the best thing that ever happened to me”

[sugar-coat-it]

Teenage Dream: Firsts

Original fic: Teenage Dream

HEYYY welcome back to teen dorks in love <3 <3

Contains: Matty meeting her parents/seeing her room for the first time, making out, cute inexperience, guided handjob, oral sex (M receiving), having to be quiet, Matty losing his fucking mind

WC: 5.3k

—--------------------------------

FIRSTS: the first blowjob (Pre Teenage Dream!)

—--------------------------------

Matty’s POV

Matty pulls at the collar of his button-down shirt, the heat of June has him sweating down his back. He wipes his palms onto his pants, cringing at the moisture that had gathered on them. The summer heat wasn’t the only reason he was almost overheating as he stood on your front porch. He eyes your door like it’s a fifty-foot-tall beast from a video game he’s played, practically feeling himself shrinking before it. He shakes out his hands, blowing a puff of air out between his lips before picking up the box of cookies his mother had shoved into his arms before he left, berating him about going to someone’s home empty-handed. This was worse than any stage fright he’d ever felt. 

He curses under his breath, willing his hands to stop trembling as he reaches for the doorbell, pressing once, hearing the muffled chime from the inside that follows. His breath feels like it’s been sucked from his lungs as the door creaks open, his spine and shoulders stiffening rigidly. He glances between your parents before he spots you, sitting on the staircase, smiling at him. His heart skips a beat, it’s as if time itself has slowed. You had been waiting for him.

A wobbly smile pulls at his lips as your eyes lock, and suddenly, he can breathe again. His hand extends outward.

“Hello, lovely to meet you both, thank you for having me.”

—--------------------------------

Your POV

It’s an odd feeling, having Matty in your house. There’s a sense of giddiness that he’s here, but you keep it under wraps, knowing you both have to be on your best behavior, playing charades on the same team. You quietly observe him interact with your parents, tucking your hair behind your ear as you watch what feels like an interview. Does that make him your candidate? You suppress a smile at the thought. 

You don’t have to see Matty’s hands to know that he’s picking at his nails under the dinner table. Amid your father’s long-winded story about his music festival days, you dare to look over at him, seeing him looking so focused on listening that his eyebrows are drawn together slightly, nodding along. He’s trying so hard not to embarrass himself. 

You stare until his eyes flicker over at you for just a fraction of a second, feeling the weight of your gaze. You swear you see his eyes brighten just slightly, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips, threatening to give him away. 

Silently, you reach out towards him under the table, blindly feeling until you find his hand resting on his knee, making a mess of the skin around his nails, just as you’d expected. Matty flinches slightly at the contact, sparks crackling under your fingertips at the lightest touch. Slowly, so slowly, he turns over his palm, allowing you to intertwine your fingers beneath the shield of your dining room table. Excitement sparks in you, unbridled and wild. It’s like your secret connection, so simplistic but it’s yours to share. You watch as he visibly relaxes, gently guiding his thumb back and forth over the back of your hand, eyes lighting up when your father mentions a band he likes.

“You saw them live? That’s so cool,” Matty beams, “Did they totally melt face?”

Your mother chuckles, knowing that Matty had opened a can of worms that was hard to reseal. You exchange a look with your mom across the table at the passionate discussion this had just sparked between your boyfriend and your dad. You were just glad that Matty didn’t look like he could spontaneously combust anymore. 

Dinner continues smoothly, Matty’s hand resting comfortably with yours as he chats with your parents, making them fall in love with him, of course. How could they not when he thanks your mom for such a lovely meal and laughs at all of your dad’s jokes? His smile beams when his manners are complimented, his cheeks tinged a light shade of pink. He chimes in on banter like he’s an old family friend. You like this. You really like this. He looks like he belongs here, in your life, at your table, under the gentle lighting of your kitchen. 

You’re getting ahead of yourself, you know it, but you can see a world just beyond your fingertips, one where you and him can hold hands every night under your own dinner table. His hands will be bigger, and stronger, but he’ll still intertwine your fingers just the same. Something warm blossoms in your chest as the chatter fades into the background… until a pointed question from your dad makes your ears prick up, your head whipping in his direction:

“So, what are your intentions with my daughter?”

Matty sputters, his heart beginning to race as his smile falters. He blinks at your father for a moment, his eyes widening as the question hangs in the air. 

“My intentions?” he echos softly, his hand tensing against yours as he quickly glances at you.

“Dad! Oh my god,” you chastise through gritted teeth. 

“I’m kidding, I’ve just always wanted to say that,” your dad grins, earning a shake of your mother’s head. 

Matty lets out a nervous chuckle, his eyes flickering to yours. You shoot him an apologetic look on behalf of the stupid joke. He smiles softly, reassuringly squeezing your hand as if to say “It’s okay, don’t worry”. You try not to, hoping your father doesn’t have any more comments up his sleeve that will give your boyfriend a heart attack. 

When the meal is over, Matty insists on helping to clean up despite being excused from the table. Your heart swells in your chest, he’s just so good to his very core. A tingle goes down your spine as your hands brush while clearing the table together. He smiles at you like you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. 

It’s not long before you’re bounding up the stairs together, you leading the way to your room. You glance back at him before opening the door, a sense of thrill rushing straight to your head that you can’t quite explain. You catch the way his eyes sparkle in just the brief moment that your gazes meet, and you just know he’s feeling the same thing. 

The two of you step inside, standing in the middle of your shaggy carpet to allow him to take it all in, every photograph, book, and poster. Matty turns in a circle twice to see everything, his eyes wandering over all the little pieces of you that you’ve collected over time. Other versions of you still live here. He loves all of them even though he’s never met them. 

“Wow,” he breathes, “You have a lot of stuffed animals.”

Matty crouches by the edge of your bed, looking over each of them. Quietly, you join him, sitting on your knees next to him, highly aware of how your legs brush slightly. It’s like he’s feeling the essence of you through your trinkets, from childhood and otherwise. You hadn’t expected how vulnerable this feels.

“Ah, yeah I guess. Just don’t have the heart to donate them,” you admit softly, your eyes shifting between the small crowd of plush animals, “I think I’m a little attached to them.” Matty smiles. He can’t help but fall in love with you all over again at your sentimentality. He carefully picks up a dog, scooping it into his hands so he can feel its soft, synthetic fur. Watching him treat your things so gently has warmth blooming in your chest, noticing how gingerly he runs his fingers over the fluffy fabric.

 Matty turns to you with the stuffed animal in hand, moving its head and putting on a high-pitched voice to make it seem like it’s talking instead of him.

“Don’t put me in the bin!” 

You scoff with amusement, taking the dog from his hands and petting its back protectively before setting the plush back down with its friends. It’s quiet for a few beats before Matty speaks again, softer than before.

“Do they, um, have names?” 

You nod, pointing at each and telling him the names you’d given them long ago. You look over, catching the way Matty mouths each of their names after you say them like he’s trying to commit them to memory for a test. 

“Did you say this one is named Frog?” he squints, pointing at it.

“Yeah?”

Matty blinks at you, then the stuffed animal, then at you again. 

“It’s a cat.”

“I was five!” you defend, making his eyebrows raise with amusement.

“You should know your animals by then, no?”

You elbow him in the side, just enough to make him jump, a yelp escaping his lips as you tell him not to be rude, he is in your room after all. Matty raises his hands in mock surrender, a big, boyish smile on his face. He can imagine you as a young girl donning each of them with a name that meant something to you like you were knighting them (even if they didn’t make the most sense). 

Matty glances at you when you suddenly get up to your feet with spritely energy, his eyebrows furrowing slightly at your enthusiasm. 

“This is the best part,”  you grin, making your way to the wall and raising your hand to the light switch. 

The moment you shut the overhead light, your bedroom is bathed in the gentle, warm glow of both twinkling fairy lights strung across the walls and little plastic stars stuck to the ceiling. Matty feels a surge of wonderment as his eyes leap up to the glow-in-the-dark stickers, murmuring a “woah”. You’d hoped he wouldn’t think it was childish that you still had all of these things in your room, but he doesn’t seem to mind one bit, not with the way he looks at you, breathless at the way the lights illuminate your features. 

The two of you lie side by side on your bed, looking up at the glowing, plastic stars stuck to the ceiling. They might be fake, but the comfort is real. He holds your hand in his, running his thumb back and forth over one of your rings. Matty breaks the comfortable silence first, choosing to whisper because it just feels right. 

“I was nervous,” he confesses.

“Hm?”

Matty clears his throat, stealing a glance at you as his thumb pauses its gentle stroking. 

“About your parents. I was proper terrified, actually. You know. About making them think I’m a bad influence or something.” 

“A bad influence? Are you kidding? You were like the picture of politeness. Shaking their hands, saying what a lovely home they have. Kiss ass,” you chuckle, turning to face him, your head propped up on your hand. Matty mirrors you with a laugh.

“Hey! It’s called making a good first impression, miss.”

“I know, I know. You were great. They really liked you,” you whisper, reassuringly squeezing his hand.

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

Matty sighs, relief flooding over him. He can practically feel the last bit of tension draining from his body, finally allowing him to fully relax after being so self-conscious all night. Now that you’ve managed to untie the knots in his stomach with just a few words, he gets to marvel at how it feels to be in your space, on your bed, searching the depths of your eyes (and occasionally glancing at your lips). He wouldn’t mind staying here a long time. 

“I really wanna kiss you right now,” he whispers, his voice laced with the softest adoration. If he’s being honest, it’s all he can think about, it’s almost overwhelming.

“I really want you to kiss me right now,” you answer with a breathless laugh, not missing a beat. 

Matty grins at your immediate response, his cheeks dusted a rosy shade of pink. You shake your head at how dorky he looks. as if he’s just now realizing your proximity to each other. Your pulse is racing with anticipation. 

“Are you gonna do it, or–” you start, only to be cut off by him closing the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours softly. 

Your eyes flutter shut as sensation washes over you in a fizzling wave. You feel your heart sigh as Matty squeezes your hand before letting go, his fingers trembling slightly as they find your waist, resting there while he gently slots his lips against yours. Matty shudders as your hand climbs from his back into his hair, knotting into the thick, dark tresses. You feel him gasp softly as your tongue slides over his bottom lip, immediately responding by opening his mouth to you, eagerness seeping from his kiss. You allow him to draw you in, his lanky frame warm against your body as the kiss continues, heightening the need for intimacy, for closeness, to forget the world that lies beyond this room.

You’ve lost track of how long you’ve been kissing when you withdraw your hand from his hair, reaching between the two of you for Matty’s belt, curling your fingers against the buckle. Instantly, his body goes taut, pulling away from the heated lip lock with widened eyes. You stare back at him with a heaving chest, your hot breaths intermingling in the lack of space between you. Matty licks his lips, tasting the residue of your flavored chapstick. Cherry. His favorite of your collection. 

“What?” you whisper, eyeing his swollen, shining lips. Your heart threatens to sink in your chest at his hesitation.

Matty rushes to collect himself, his mind jumbled with thoughts, feelings, desires, and you. Mostly you. His eyes find your bedroom door nervously, his hand tensed at your waist as he pants, silently weighing the risk. 

“Your parents…” he murmurs before swallowing thickly. 

You shake your head, taking a firmer hold on his belt, feeling the way Matty’s breath catches in his throat almost violently. His reaction only makes you want this more, want him more. 

“They’re downstairs. They won’t hear anything.”

He glances again at your bedroom door, closed, but he couldn’t remember if you’d locked it. He chews at his bottom lip, looking at you through his lashes as he tries to ignore the obvious straining against the seam of his jeans, the feeling urging him, whispering in his ear tantalizingly, telling him to just do it. 

“Are you sure? Is it really okay?”

You trail your hand from his stomach up to his chest, pressing your hand over Matty’s heart, feeling the way it’s madly racing beneath your palm. Gently, you let your head tilt forward, resting your forehead against his as he attempts to calm his breathing, his eyes nervously flickering over your face.

“I’m sure,” you whisper, running your thumb back and forth over the fabric of his shirt, “Can I…?”

Matty’s breath shudders, his eyes fluttering shut as he gulps, trying to focus on the subtle gentleness of your forehead resting against his. He nods slowly, reassuringly squeezing your side. 

“Yeah. Please.”

You place one last sweet, soft kiss on his lips before untangling yourself from him and sliding off of the mattress to kneel in front of the bed. Your hands tremble slightly in your lap at the thought of exploring this new territory. You’d never gone beyond kissing and getting a little handsy in the bathroom at school or in the backseat of his car. You’d pretend not to notice the way he pulled his shirt down to try and hide his “problem” after the fact. But now, you’re at eye level with the noticeable bulge in his pants when he awkwardly shifts on the bed to sit in front of you. Matty’s lips part with a breathless squeak of “Oh, god” as you reach up, smoothing your hands over his thighs. 

“Are you… are you really gonna…?” he trails off, his face bright pink. 

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?” 

“I-I dunno, I just—“ Matty pauses, letting out a wavering breath while bringing a hand down to cup your cheek, “God, you’re amazing.”

The pure adoration in his eyes makes your heart skip a beat. Or five. You’re not quite sure. You lean into his palm, pressing your flushed cheek against his hand with a bashful smile. Matty bites his lip, nervously grinning like he just can’t contain himself.  

“You look… so good,” he muses, running the pad of his thumb over your plush bottom lip, causing you to pant softly. 

His breath hitches when you kiss his digit, marveling at the sight of you with what feels like hardly any oxygen in his lungs. Slowly, you dip your head down, maintaining eye contact as you press your lips over his clothed erection. Matty’s eyes go wide, a strangled gasp escaping him as his cock jumps beneath the fabric at the heat of your mouth. He’s pictured this exact scenario over and over, the fantastical figment of you down on your knees, your eyes piercing into him while he slid his hand down the front of his pants at the thought. 

Instinctively, his hips jump forward at the pressure. You smile, gently placing one hand on his hip to keep him still, rubbing little circles over his hip bone with your thumb. Matty’s hand stays at your cheek as you kiss and mouth over the hardness in his pants. You can feel your face burning, your mouth watering at the warmth and pressure beneath the fabric as Matty struggles to maintain some semblance of composure, his head falling back against the wall. You watch his free hand strangle your bedsheets, his whole body slightly tremoring with the urge to move and grind against you. You pray these are all good signs.

“Shit… babe, please,” he pants, tenderly running his thumb over your cheek, “I’m so fucking hard it hurts.”

Matty whines quietly as you place one more kiss over his tip before pulling away, smiling at the satisfaction of drawing such sounds from his pretty lips. Fumbling slightly, you undo his belt with quiet clinks, carefully placing it to the side as you listen to his heavy breathing. Heart racing, you reach for his zipper, trailing your fingers over the seam of his trousers before pulling it down. You chew at your lip as Matty groans with relief at some of the pressure being taken off. The two of you share an anxious glance as you hook your fingers into the waistband of his pants, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as he tries to give you better access. He doesn’t yank his pants down, he waits. He waits for you to take the time you need. 

With bated breath, you peel down his trousers along with his boxers, just enough for his erection to spring free, the tip wet with precum. You feel a pang of molten desire resound between your legs at the sight. Your mind which was previously roaring with thoughts goes stunningly blank.

Matty swallows nervously as you stare at him, his mouth dry, his cheeks red as he shimmies his pants the rest of the way down his legs. Oh god, what if you think it’s ugly? It’s not that bad, is it? He’s never thought about it too much before, but now he’s so exposed. He knows none of them are “nice”, but at this moment he thinks he might keel over and die if you thought he was unattractive, or even worse, repulsive below his belt. A thought crashes into him of you changing your mind, pulling up his pants again, and calling it a night. His stomach twists with a whirl of insecurity. He finds himself desperate for a reaction, anything.

“Is… is it okay? Am I… okay?” he asks. His voice is barely a whisper, almost like he’s afraid to know the answer.

You snap out of your haze, noticing the almost queasy look on your boyfriend’s face, his eyes downcast. You quickly shake your head, adoringly squeezing his hip. 

 "More than okay. Wow, you're–” you exhale shakily, admiring him, "big.”

Matty’s eyes widen, precum leaking from his tip at the unexpected praise, his ego sufficiently fluffed. He feels like his face is on fire, his heart pounding in his chest, thrumming against his ribs because oh god, you just said what he hears in his wet dreams of you.

“You really think so?” he whispers, bleeding vulnerability.

You nod slowly, glancing up from his lap to meet his widened eyes. Truthfully, you’re not sure if he’s “big” without any point of reference, but the way he reacted when you said it... you’ll happily continue to say so. Besides, just by eyeing him, you’re pretty sure you could use two hands, and that’s more than enough to make nervous excitement bubble up inside of you. You lick your lips. You’re not a greedy girl, but for the first time, you have the intent to devour something. Him. 

“How do you like it?” you ask quietly, your hands running up and down the soft, pale skin of his thighs. 

 “I-I don’t know, I’ve never…” he trails off, chuckling nervously as he rakes a hand through his hair.

“Oh,” you whisper, your cheeks prickling with warmth. You could have guessed it, but he’s just as new to this as you. You don’t have to compete with the memories of other experiences, yet, a silly part of you still wants to take first prize with flying colors and be the best he’s ever going to have.

It’s quiet for a few moments. You can’t hear anything except the echo of your heartbeat in your ears until Matty delicately takes one of your hands into his, guiding it toward his lap. He stops short of his weeping erection, you can feel the warmth of him just a fraction of an inch from the pads of your fingers.

 “You can… like this…” Matty mutters, his tongue darting out over his pink lips. 

Your heart leaps in your chest as he slowly wraps your hand around himself, enclosing his fingers around yours. Your mouth drops, the both of you shuddering at the contact, feeling the weight of him against your palm. 

Gently, Matty guides both of your hands upwards with a moan. Your breath catches as the slickness of his precum coats your palm before he directs your fist back down.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers.

Both of your stares are completely transfixed on the sight of your hands working together to stroke him, Matty’s fingers curling a little firmer around yours, tightening your grip. He curses under his breath, legs trembling. Your hand feels so much different than his, he’s almost lightheaded from how good this all feels.

“Is this how you do it when you…?” you whisper, stealing a glance at his flushed face. 

“When I touch myself?” he finishes breathlessly, his cock twitching in your fist, “Yeah. Yeah, something like this.” 

He groans as he steadily increases the pace, rolling his hips up into your hands. There’s something surprisingly sweet about the way his hand is wrapped around yours, it was something that felt familiar, something grounding amidst the rush of your combined effort. He gently rubs over your knuckle with his thumb.

“It’s always to you. You know that? I-I can’t unless it’s you,” he whispers lowly, his voice scratchy between soft pants for breath. Your heart flutters at the admission. He’s more perfect than he could ever know. 

The eye contact is dizzying as he withdraws his hold on you, leaning back on his hands to watch instead, his undivided attention on you. Inhaling steadily, you maintain the pace he had set, paying extra attention to the tip of his cock the way he seemed to prefer it. You look up at him with twinkling eyes, pleading for approval. What you find are Matty’s brows drawn together, his pretty lips parted with his heavy breaths, and his eyes lidded and dark, almost black with lust. You’re glad you’re on your knees, the sight of him like this could have swiped your legs out from under you. He nods quickly, not daring to open his mouth because he doesn’t trust himself to speak properly.

“I-if you could use your hand t-to, um, twist, that would be really– ah shit, really nice,” Matty stutters when he finally manages to get his melting brain to operate.

“Twist?” you repeat, tilting your head at him.

“Mm. Like you’re… like you’re um…” he hesitates, realizing he doesn’t have an analogy to help explain, awkwardly trying to recreate the motion in the air, “Fuck me, I can’t think when you’re touching me like– don’t laugh, just let me show you!”

The both of you try to stifle your giggles, beaming at each other with shining eyes. You copy the motion he had made, maneuvering your hand with a bit of uncertainty. Your lack of sureness quickly fizzles out when Matty grunts, causing a flutter between your thighs as you watch his expression shift from amusement to bliss. 

“Fuck, that’s good,” he mutters appreciatively, his voice becoming more ragged, desperate, “You’re doing so, so good.”

The praise has you sticky between your thighs. You pause, taking your hand off of him momentarily to lean in and spit into your palm as politely as possible. Matty squirms, practically writhing when you resume pumping his length, twisting your wrist like he’d shown you. The slick, obscene noises fill the silence of your bedroom, the sound causing heat to flush through your body. 

“Does that feel nice?” you whisper, confidence sparking within you as you watch him melt into your mattress.

Matty whines, nodding again vigorously as his hips jerk upward. At that moment, Matty knew he was ruined forever. He’d never be able to get off again without comparing it to the way your hand feels, longing for the touch he can’t replicate on his own. He opens his mouth to speak, but can only seem to stammer, his lashes fluttering with pleasure.

“Jesus fuck, baby. How’d you learn that?” he pants.

You can’t remember how, and Matty can’t find it in him to care too much because he’s repeatedly counting upwards and downwards from 1 to 10 in his head to try and distract himself from his impending orgasm. His eyes are squeezed shut tightly, he knows it’ll only be worse if he watches the way you’re working him. He can’t let this be over yet, he needs this a little longer, god please, just a little longer. 

“Look at me,” you urge softly. You’ve never spoken that way before, the silky voice that comes out doesn’t feel like your own quite yet. 

 Matty’s eyes blink open hazily as you brush his hair away from his crimson cheeks. He feels all sorts of high at the moment, his chest heaving as he tries not to cum on the spot at the fucking daydream that is you on your knees for him. His perfect girl with her perfect hand wrapped around his cock and– oh.

You lean down, your gaze unwavering as you kiss his tip, a pearl of precum spreading onto your lips. He freezes, every muscle in his body taut as you gently slide your tongue over the head of his dick, tasting the warm saltiness. It feels obscene, pornographic, indecent, and any other word that would contradict how good it feels, the way heat stirs in you. You want more.

Matty’s eyes roll back, his mouth opening in a silent cry, the sensation almost too much to bear as your head sinks lower, your pretty lips tight around him. His hand unthinkingly flies to your head, knotting into your hair like he’s desperately trying to have a hold of anything to keep him anchored to the ground. His other hand claps over his mouth to muffle a shocked moan as you begin to bob your head, a look of pure ecstasy gracing his features. 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my fucking god,” he gasps, seemingly every inch of him trembling. 

Humming around him, you feel an aching in your very bones to hear every sound from him unfiltered, to grab his hand and let every syrupy moan pour from his mouth, dousing you in heat. But you know if he ever wants to look your parents in the eyes again, he has to be quiet despite how overwhelmed he is by sensations. 

“H-holy shit. Please, keep… keep doin’ that, oh god. That’s amazing,” Matty babbles with his hand firmly over his lips, feeling like his head is barely attached to his neck. 

His hips twitch with little bucks as he fights the urge to unconsciously thrust into your perfect, wet mouth. Cheeks hallowed, you watch as he stares at you, completely and totally awestruck. You’ve heard of guys that push heads down when receiving oral, but not him, Matty shakily, gratefully pets your hair like he’s trying to thank you without the words that he couldn’t find if he tried. Not when your head is between his legs. 

Matty’s muffled noises get higher in pitch as he almost entirely forgets what a number is, his strategy to last longer gloriously failing him (in his head it sounds more like 1, 2– oh fuck jesus fucking– 3, um. God. I’m not gonna last, it’s over, it’s over she’s so beautiful–). He tightens his grip over his mouth, fingers digging into his cheek as he desperately tries to keep his voice down and not buck his hips.

“Baby. Baby, you’re gonna make me fucking cum,” he whimpers, both in warning and in compliments to you as he feels the pleasure build to a high. 

He expected you to take that as your signal to pull away and finish him off by hand, but you dip your head lower, doubling your efforts as you stroke what you can’t reach with your mouth. It’s only moments before Matty body arches with a stifled cry as he comes undone, spilling into your mouth. You gag slightly when his release hits the back of your throat, holding onto his quivering thighs for stability. 

Matty’s head tilts back as his whole body tenses with relief. His long, dark hair sweeps away from his face that twists with pleasure as he twitches in your mouth. He’s an absolute vision illuminated by the gentle, golden glow of the lights.

You swallow around him before slowly pulling away, sitting back onto the floor feeling fuzzy. You lick over your lips, the taste of him heavy on your tongue as you both catch your breaths. Matty slowly lets his hand fall from his mouth, revealing a lazy, sated smile that stretches across his face, his head still lolled back. He looks dazed out of his mind.

“That was… fucking intense,” he chuckles dreamily, sliding his boxers up his legs. 

His eyes crack open, his heart swelling at the sight of you looking up at him, your chin shining with drool. He lets go of your hair to wipe away your saliva with his thumb, panting softly as he admires you. Matty cradles your face with both of his hands, sliding off of the mattress to kneel on the floor with you. He simply stares at you for a moment, his eyes sparkling with unadulterated affection. Your breath catches in your throat. Neither of you can seem to speak, so he tells you everything he wants to say with a kiss instead, pressing his lips to yours with such tenderness that your whole body swoons. 

“Thank you… thank you,” he murmurs shakily, “I-I– you’re so perfect.”

“‘M not perfect,” you insist, smiling against his lips between kisses.

“God, you are to me.”

He pulls you closer, making you giggle as he dips you backward, supporting you at your back as he kisses you, tasting himself on your lips. He swears when he gets the chance, he’ll repay the pleasure you gave him tenfold, give it to you until you can’t take anymore because you deserve nothing less. 

“It was good?” you ask softly, your forehead pressed to his. 

“Oh, baby. I’m never gonna be the same. I'm done for," he grins, searching your eyes with wonderment. 

He means it. He’s going to be thinking about this night for a long, long time. 

[icbmil]

Matty & Ross July 21st 2023