#matty healy x reader

[graciegoeskrazy]

The birthday party

(Matty Healy + teen!daughter!r)

warnings: angst (we’re back!), shitty dad Matty for a min, uncle George yay, yelling, just sad, reader is turning 13

a/n: what other title did you think I would choose bffr

You had been talking about it for months. There was no way he could forget. Right? He’s your dad. The only parent you’ve ever had. It’s always been just the two of you, side by side through everything. He knows you better than anyone else in the world. So why was this nagging doubt creeping into your mind this morning?

He always made it a big deal. A special breakfast, a couple of thoughtful presents to kick off the day—but this time, there was nothing. No sounds of sizzling bacon, no smell of pancakes. Just silence. You searched every corner of the house—his bedroom, the bathroom, the kitchen, even the backyard and guest room—but he was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t until you glanced outside that you noticed his car was missing. A knot tightened in your stomach as you reached for your phone and sent him a text, hoping for an explanation that would ease the growing sense of disappointment.

y/n | where r u???

dad | studio. y?

At first, you convinced yourself he was playing one of his usual tricks. It was exactly the kind of thing your dad would do. Let you sweat a little, only to jump out from somewhere unexpected with a goofy grin and a surprise waiting behind his back. You smiled at the thought, almost hearing his laughter in your head. That had to be it. It was all part of some elaborate birthday prank.

You didn’t reply to his text at first. The message sat unread on your phone, the screen dimming after a few seconds, like it wasn’t important. You brushed it off, continued getting ready, telling yourself this was just part of the game. The anticipation kept you going—maybe he’d burst through the door any minute with balloons and confetti, trying to catch you off guard. You could already picture his laugh, the way he’d raise his eyebrows like, ‘Gotcha!’

But with each passing minute, doubt began to creep in. You found yourself staring at the phone longer than you'd like to admit, uncertain how to respond. A part of you wanted to play along, to convince yourself it was all just a joke. But there was another, quieter part of you—a part that you didn’t want to acknowledge—that began to whisper the truth you were trying to ignore.

There was no prank, no surprise waiting for you. The sinking feeling in your stomach told you what you didn’t want to admit. He forgot your birthday. And no matter how much you tried to pretend otherwise, that truth weighed heavier with each moment of silence.

…

School had always been your escape, a place where you could drown out everything else by burying yourself in classwork and conversation. Today was no different. You told yourself if you kept busy enough, the hurt gnawing at you would fade into the background. It almost worked, until your friends surprised you at lunch.

They gathered around with smiles, handing you a cupcake, complete with a crooked candle, and a small gift they’d all chipped in on. You forced a smile, doing your best to swallow the lump in your throat. You weren’t about to ruin the moment for them. But your best friend wasn’t fooled for a second.

“So… you gonna tell me what’s really going on?” she asked, snapping you out of your daze.

You looked up quickly, startled. “What? What do you mean?” you replied, plastering on a grin. But it was thin, stretched too tight, and you knew she could see right through it.

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You walked into school looking like you just got hit by a car. You’ve been staring at your phone every five seconds, and I can tell you’re about two seconds away from crying. So, what’s up?”

The act fell apart. You swallowed hard and stared down at the half-eaten cupcake, your voice barely above a whisper. “He forgot my birthday.”

She tilted her head, confused for a moment. “Who did?”

You met her eyes, feeling a wave of shame and frustration crash over you. “My dad. He… he forgot my birthday.”

Her face fell. The disbelief in her eyes was instant, but not entirely surprising. “What?! No way,” she blurted, shaking her head.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the desire to move on from the topic growing stronger by the second. “It’s fine. It’s not that big of a deal—”

“It’s a huge deal, Y/n! He’s your dad!” She almost shouted, her voice filled with a mix of outrage and disbelief.

You mumbled, but the bitterness in your voice was unmistakable. “Yeah, well… he hasn’t really been acting like one lately.”

Her face softened instantly, guilt flashing in her eyes for snapping at you. She leaned in, her tone gentler now. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck, trying to figure out the words. “I dunno, maybe he’s just busy or dealing with his own stuff. It’s not a big deal—”

“But?” she pushed, refusing to let you brush it aside.

You hesitated before continuing. “It’s like he’s… here, but he’s not here, you know? He’s around, but we don’t talk anymore. We don’t even see each other, really. It’s like he’s some random roommate I found online. I only see him when we happen to cross paths, maybe at dinner or when I’m heading out, but even then, it’s like I’m invisible. He doesn’t even acknowledge me.”

Your friend’s face fell, and she reached out, resting her hand on yours. “That’s not right, love. You know that, don’t you?” Her voice was quiet but firm. “Maybe you should talk to him. Tell him how you’re feeling.”

You sighed heavily, feeling the weight of her suggestion. “Yeah, maybe,” you muttered, but deep down, you wondered if he’d even listen.

…

Adam found Matty slouched in a corner, next to the coffee machine and a spread of half-eaten snacks, aimlessly scrolling through his phone. The exhaustion was evident in the dark circles under his eyes. Honestly, all he wanted to do was be home, sitting on the couch with you, watching some mindless TV, shutting the world out for a few hours. But there was still work to be done. The faster he finished this album and sent it off, the sooner he could finally focus on what mattered most—you.

“I’m surprised you’re even here,” Adam said, breaking the silence as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Matty didn’t bother looking up from his phone. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Adam gave him a sideways glance. “I just figured you’d be with Y/n.”

Matty frowned. “Why?”

Adam shifted, uneasy, and took a sip of coffee. “Well, you know... thirteen is kind of a big deal.”

Thirteen. The number didn’t seem to register for Matty right away. Adam watched as the realization crept over Matty’s face like a slow, chilling wave.

“What do you—” Matty’s voice faltered, and then he froze. He stared blankly at Adam, piecing it together. The sinking dread filled the room. Adam could tell from the way Matty’s expression darkened that he had forgotten.

“Don’t tell me...” Adam muttered, but it was too late.

Matty bolted upright, shoving his phone into his pocket and grabbing his bag without a word. The room seemed to spin around him as he stormed out, not bothering to explain himself to the others. He needed to get to you. Now. 

As he sped through the streets, his mind raced. How could he have forgotten? You, his world, his everything. The one person who had completely shifted the course of his life thirteen years ago, making him into something more than just himself. He had thought about stopping somewhere—buying a cake, maybe some balloons—but the clock was ticking, and every second felt like another failure. He couldn’t waste any more time.

Guilt tightened in his chest with every mile he drove. You deserved more than a last-minute apology and a quick fix. You deserved his time, his presence, his love—especially on a day that should have been about you.

But now he was on his way, and he didn’t know how to make it up to you. He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

………. 

You were curled up on the couch, sinking deeper into the cushions, letting the sweetness of the cupcakes numb the ache inside. Your friend had baked them for you—her attempt to make the day a little less unbearable—and you didn’t care about the calories or the mess you were making as frosting smeared across your fingers. It was a brief distraction from the disappointment gnawing at your chest.

Then you heard it—the keys jingling in the lock, the door creaking open. Your heart tightened. Without a second thought, you reached for the remote and turned off the TV.

“Y/n!” Your dad’s voice echoed down the hallway as he rushed in, breathless, his footsteps quick, desperate. He froze when he spotted you on the couch, eyes widening as if the sight of you caught him off guard.

“I’m sorry,” he started, his voice cracking, “I’m so s—”

He stopped mid-sentence as you stood, the movement sharp and deliberate. You clenched your jaw, refusing to meet his gaze as you gathered the crumpled cupcake wrappers and empty water bottles scattered around you. The silence between you thickened, heavy with everything unsaid.

You walked to the trash bin, each step deliberate, your frustration palpable in the way your shoulders tensed. His eyes followed you, pleading, but you refused to acknowledge him.

“Where are you going?” His voice cracked, barely holding back the desperation.

“To bed,” you answered, your tone cold, distant. Still, you wouldn’t look at him.

He glanced at his phone, confusion flickering across his face. “It’s only 7:30?” he questioned, as if the time mattered in the slightest.

“I don’t care.” Your voice was soft, almost too soft, like a balloon deflating after holding in too much air. “I just need to be away from you.”

Matty took a step closer, his hands trembling as he reached out, though he stopped short of touching you. “C’mon, baby. Please don’t do this,” he pleaded, his voice rough with guilt. “Talk to me. Let me fix this. I can make it right.”

The crack in your heart finally shattered. “I don’t care anymore.” The words tumbled out, jagged and raw, each syllable heavy with the weight of years of pent-up frustration. “I’ve let the stupid shit you’ve done slide my entire life! And I’m just… I’m so tired. I’m tired of you disappointing me over and over.”

He looked at you, his face crumpling as if he didn’t know what to say, as if he hadn’t realized just how deep the hurt ran. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely holding together. “I’m so sorry.”

You let out a bitter laugh, one that held no humor. “I know you are. You’re always sorry, but I’m tired of hearing it. I don’t care anymore.” Words hitting a little harsher.

He took another step toward you, his voice shaking. “Please, Y/n. Just give me a chance to fix this. Let me make it right, I’ll do anything.”

“No.” You shook your head, your resolve hardening. “You can’t fix this. You can’t even remember my fucking birthday birthday.”

His mouth opened, but no words came. The silence stretched, painful, until finally, something inside him snapped. His face twisted, frustration bubbling to the surface. “I wouldn’t have to try to remember if you weren’t here!” The words flew out, sharp and ugly, hanging in the air like a slap. His eyes widened, regret flashing through them the moment they left his lips. “I didn’t mean that,” he stammered, panic setting in. “Y/n, I—”

But it was too late. The truth of his confession hit you like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of you. For a moment, you stood there, frozen, feeling the sting of his words sink in. Then, without another word, you turned on your heel and stomped up the stairs, each step heavier than the last.

“Y/n!” he called after you, his voice breaking with desperation. “Please, Y/n, wait! Don’t go!”

You didn’t stop. You couldn’t. You slammed your bedroom door with a force that rattled the house, and for a brief moment, the entire world went silent. Downstairs, Matty stood frozen in the middle of the room, his head hanging low, his body sagging under the weight of his mistake.

…

Matty wasn't sure what to do next. He paced the living room for a while, his steps quick and restless, before collapsing onto the couch. The same spot where you had sat for hours, fighting tears and the crushing weight of disappointment. He stared at the scattered crumbs and empty cupcake wrappers left behind, his chest tightening as he imagined you curled up there, waiting for him, hoping for something he failed to give.

The knock at the door broke through his spiraling thoughts.

He rose sluggishly, his movements heavy with dread. It was late—too late for a neighbor or a delivery. As he opened the door, the cold air rushed in, carrying with it the sight of George standing on the porch. His coat was large, the collar flipped up to shield him from the wind, and his hands were stuffed deep into his pockets.

“Hey,” George greeted, his voice low and careful, though his sharp eyes betrayed his concern.

Matty blinked in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

George’s expression hardened. “Bubs called. She didn’t tell you?”

Before Matty could answer, he heard the hurried sound of footsteps behind him. You swept past him without so much as a glance, your shoulders stiff, your chin lifted in quiet defiance.

“Hi, George,” you murmured, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. Your voice was clipped, your movements rushed, as if staying in the house a moment longer would suffocate you. “I’ll be in the car.”

Matty turned to watch as you walked away, your silhouette disappearing into the darkness. The slam of the car door reverberated through the silence.

“Shit,” he muttered, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.

George stepped inside, his boots thudding against the wooden floor. He shrugged off his coat but didn’t bother to hang it, instead crossing his arms and pinning Matty with a pointed look. “What happened, mate? She wouldn’t tell me anything, just that I needed to pick her up.”

Matty hesitated, his eyes darting toward the empty couch before finally meeting George’s gaze. “I said something…I said something really bad.”

George’s brows shot up. “Go on.”

Matty’s voice cracked as he admitted, “I forgot her birthday.”

“I’m sorry—what?” George’s tone was sharp, his disbelief cutting through the room like a knife.

Matty winced. “I left this morning and went to the studio with Adam. My mind was on recording, and I—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” George interrupted, his voice low and dangerous. “That’s not an excuse to forget your only child’s thirteenth birthday.”

“I know!” Matty snapped, his frustration with himself boiling over. “I know, okay? I screwed up. But I talked to her, and I tried to—”

“Oh, this should be good,” George interjected with a bitter laugh. “Let me guess. You made it worse.”

Matty let out a defeated sigh. “She was crying. I told her I could fix it, that I’d do anything to make it right, and she told me I couldn’t even remember her birthday. And that’s when…”

George raised a brow, his patience clearly thinning. “When what?”

Matty swallowed hard, his throat dry. “That’s when I said, ‘Well, I wouldn’t have to remember if you weren’t here.’”

The silence that followed was deafening. George stared at him, his jaw tightening, his eyes blazing with anger and disbelief. “You are a fucking idiot,” he said finally, his voice calm but dripping with contempt. “You know that?”

“I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” George shot back. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t have let her walk out of here feeling like that.”

Matty’s shoulders sagged. “What do I do?”

“You want a step-by-step guide on how to not be a shitty dad?” George’s sarcasm was biting, but when Matty didn’t respond, he softened, his tone shifting to something more serious. “Here’s what’s going to happen. She’s coming home with me. She’s going to cry into my arms, like she always does when I’m cleaning up after your screw-ups. Meanwhile, you’re going to sit here, think long and hard about what you said, and figure out how to make this right.”

Matty nodded weakly. “Okay.”

George stepped back toward the door but paused, turning to face Matty one last time. “And Matty? If you ever, ever make her feel like that again, I won’t just clean up your mess—I’ll make damn sure you know what it feels like to be left behind.”

……..

The car ride to George’s house was quiet, the only sounds coming from the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle you tried to suppress. George didn’t push you to talk. He knew better than to force words out of you when you were like this. Instead, he kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the gear shift, his presence steady and grounding.

When you arrived, George parked in the driveway and turned off the car, glancing over at you. “You hungry?” he asked softly, his voice breaking the silence.

You shook your head, staring out the window. The weight of the day pressed against your chest, and food was the last thing on your mind.

“Okay,” he said, not pushing the issue. “Come on, then.”

Inside, the warmth of the house enveloped you, a stark contrast to the cold night outside. George flicked on a lamp in the living room, casting a soft glow across the room filled with mismatched furniture and framed photos. It felt safe here, like a refuge from everything waiting outside.

You dropped onto the couch, pulling your knees to your chest. George disappeared into the kitchen for a moment and returned with two mugs of hot chocolate. He set one on the coffee table in front of you and settled into the armchair across from you, cradling his own mug between his hands.

“Want to tell me what happened?” he asked, his tone gentle but firm.

You hesitated, biting your lip as your gaze dropped to the mug in front of you. The steam rose in lazy swirls, and you watched it as though it held the answers you couldn’t find.

“It’s not just the birthday thing,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

George nodded, not interrupting.

“It’s everything,” you continued, your words spilling out faster now. “It’s like… I don’t even know if he really wants me here. Half the time, he’s so busy with his own life, and I feel like I’m just in the way. Like I’m some obligation he didn’t ask for.”

George set his mug down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Listen to me, kid,” he said, his voice steady. “Matty is a lot of things—most of them a pain in the ass—but he loves you. He’s just… not great at showing it sometimes.”

You scoffed, wiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie. “He told me he wouldn’t have to remember my birthday if I wasn’t here.”

George winced, his jaw tightening. “Yeah, that was a shitty thing to say. No excuses for that.”

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with hurt. “Do you think he means it?”

“No,” George said without hesitation. “I know he doesn’t. Matty’s an idiot, but he’s not heartless. He’s just scared, and when he’s scared, he says things he doesn’t mean. He’s trying, in his own messy way, but that doesn’t mean you have to forgive him right now.”

You nodded slowly, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak.

George moved to sit beside you on the couch, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You’re allowed to be mad, Y/n. You’re allowed to feel hurt. But you’re not allowed to think, even for one second, that you don’t belong here, because you do. You belong with him, and he knows it, even if he’s too dumb to show it the right way.”

You leaned into him, the warmth of his embrace and the steadiness of his presence easing some of the tension in your chest. “Thanks, George,” you murmured.

“Anytime, kiddo.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

 ………

The next morning arrived sooner than you had wanted it to. You were curled up on George’s couch, a blanket draped over your legs and a mug of lukewarm hot chocolate in your hands. The sitcom on the TV had long since faded into background noise, your focus lost somewhere between the fraying edges of the blanket and the storm of emotions churning in your chest.

George walked into the room, pausing just inside the doorway. His expression was cautious, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. You could tell something was up before he even opened his mouth.

“Your father is here,” he said, his voice soft but laced with something that sounded like reluctant hope.

You didn’t look up. “Is he now?”

George shifted his weight, pulling one hand free to scratch the back of his neck. “He wants to talk to you.”

“That’s a first.”

He sighed, moving to sit on the arm of the couch. “Maybe it’ll be good for—”

“Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop fixing his mistakes.” Your voice was sharper now, laced with frustration and an undercurrent of exhaustion. “This is what always happens. Dad makes a mistake, I end up crying, and you or one of the guys come in and fix his problem for him.”

“It’s not a problem. You are not a problem.” George’s voice was steady but firm, like he was trying to will you into believing it.

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you were thinking,” he countered. “Am I wrong?”

You looked away, the lump in your throat making it impossible to respond.

“Whatever,” you muttered eventually, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

“Fine,” George said with a sigh, standing. “I’m sending him in.”

“Georgeeee,” you whined, your voice cracking slightly. But he was already walking away, his footsteps retreating down the hall.

A few moments later, your father appeared in the doorway, looking uncertain and uncharacteristically nervous. His hair was a mess, his shirt wrinkled, and his hands were stuffed into his jacket pockets like he didn’t trust himself to let them hang freely.

“Hi, baby girl,” he said softly, his voice tentative. “I came to talk.”

You didn’t look at him. “I don’t want to talk.”

“Can you listen at least?” he asked, stepping into the room.

“Whatever,” you replied, your tone flat and dismissive.

Matty hesitated for a beat before sitting down on the edge of the coffee table, facing you. His knees brushed against the edge of the couch, but you didn’t pull away.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” he began, his voice thick with regret.

“Then why did you say it?” You finally looked at him, your eyes sharp and accusing.

“I was…angry,” he admitted, his shoulders sagging. “I was trying to defend myself, and I made things worse. Like I always do.”

“Hm.”

Matty ran a hand through his hair, letting out a shaky breath. “I made you a cake…” he said after a moment, a faint, self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “George told me to do it. To repent for my sins.”

You rolled your eyes, the corner of your mouth twitching in the ghost of a smile. “So he’s fixing your problems for you again?”

“It’s not a problem—you’re not a problem—” he said quickly, his voice rising slightly in desperation.

“You sure made it sound like I was last night,” you shot back, your voice trembling with hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“You’re just sorry for admitting it,” you said, your gaze boring into his.

“Admitting what?”

“That I was a mistake. That you didn’t want me.”

Matty’s eyes widened, and he shook his head vehemently. “You are not a mistake, my love,” he said, his voice breaking. “You are my whole world.”

“Then how could you forget my birthday?”

His face crumpled, and he looked down at his hands. “I don’t want to give an excuse,” he said after a long pause. “One, because I don’t think you’ll believe me, and two, because it’s not good enough. I can, however, beg for forgiveness for the rest of my life, and tell you how sorry I am.”

You stared at him, your chest tight and your throat burning with unshed tears. He looked so small, sitting there with his head bowed and his shoulders hunched.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s okay,” Matty said, looking up at you. His eyes were red-rimmed, his expression raw and vulnerable. “Take all the time you need. Just… let me try to be better. Let me prove to you that I can be better.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy and filled with things neither of you knew how to say. Finally, you nodded, a small, hesitant movement that felt like a crack in the wall you’d built around yourself.

Matty’s shoulders sagged with relief, and he managed a small, tentative smile. “Thank you, baby girl,” he said softly.

You didn’t respond, but when he reached out to gently squeeze your hand, you didn’t pull away.

“I got you something.” He whispered. He reached into the large jacket pocket, pulling out a small box, unmistakingly a jewelry box.

You perked up a little, adjusting yourself to sit up. He spoke softly, “I was gonna wait till Christmas for you to get this but, seems like a good time now.”

You let out a quiet scoff, “You planned Christmas already presents but not a birthday one?” He just jokingly hung his head in defeat which made you smile.

Taking the box, you slowly took the lid off, showcasing a silver necklace. It had your initial hanging from the chain, right next to a little charm with an ‘M’ on it, matching the one with your letter. Right above each of those was two small gems which you recognized as your respective birthstones.

You nodded and smiled softly, looking up to meet his gaze. “Thank you.”

He pulled you into a side hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Happy Birthday, love.”

[wreckedandpolemic]

in response to your last post…. actress au baby making…. that’s all…

mhmm exactly!! the pregnancy is somewhere between planned and unplanned, a result of meeting your cousin’s squishy little baby boy and going ‘i need one of these immediately’ lol but you don’t like explicitly plan or track your cycle, just come off the pill and keep fucking like usual lmaoo.

but you’re pretty sure you know the date your daughter was conceived by how crazy obscenely horny you were; matty comes back from the gym, or a run, or wherever he was working out, panting and glistening with sweat. you stop him before he gets in the shower, moaning just at the feeling of his hands on your skin. oh, my god, i need you, you whimper, pulling frantically at his shirt and licking sweat off his neck and collarbones. shit, hi, gorgeous, matty grins, catching your lips in a hot, messy kiss. needy little girl. you want me to eat you?

no, you say instantly. i want you to— i need you to fuck me until i can’t think. do whatever you want to me, s’long as you fill me up. matty grins wickedly, tugs your shirt over your head and kisses at your chest. get on with it, you plead. so fucking needy. what’s brought this on, bunny? he teases. i want a baby. i want you to fuck a baby into me. please, you whimper, tugging at his pants and pulling him on top of you on the sofa.

oh, baby, matty moans, kissing your neck and sliding into you. need me to knock you up, yeah? need everyone to know you’re mine? fuck, yeah, i’ll give you whatever you want, bunny. gonna look so gorgeous all full of me, can have it whenever you want until you get what you need, okay?

[lottiecrabie]

anatomy – matty healy

matty is supposed to tutor you in biology, but there’s another subject you’re much more interested in…

or tutor!au <3

tags: 18+, oral sex, unprotected sex, dry humping, dom/sub undertones, choking, cumplay, virgin!matty, freaky little loser guy

6802 words

You sit on top of the sheets of your bed, ankles crossed. You pop your bubblegum, flipping boredly through your Cosmo. Lipsticks, perfectly preened women, and the top ten sex tips flip in front of your eyes. You halt at the horoscope, indulgently checking yours. You’re not superstitious: it’s just that anything is better than this godforsaken lesson. 

“And, you see, the specific shape of the active site of an enzyme enables it to function,” Matty drawls on, unfaltered by your clear disinterest. Maybe he doesn’t see; his nose is pulled tightly in his book. “It’s— It’s really a simple understanding of 'lock and key'. You can think of enzyme activity as molecular collisions resulting in the formation of enzyme-substrate complexes.” All the terms blur together in your mind. In one ear, transformed and decorated by the pretty pink things on your page, then out the other. 

You almost feel bad for Matty, pushed into your room by your parents with pleading, desperate eyes to make you learn something. He sits at your desk while you distract yourself with whatever is more interesting which, as it so happens, is almost everything. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t say much to you other than hey and a string of jargon you don’t care to understand. It’s not like your bitchy, unimpressed stare is very welcoming. 

Matty has this nervous, twitchy energy about him. He stutters through half of his sentences, pushing his glasses up his nose, searching for the fixed point in his book he lost. He swallows thickly, starts again. An awkward, limby thing. 

Really, it’s a shame he wears all those nerdy shirts and drowning clothes, as well as those horrendous thick, square glasses. If you assess him objectively enough, he could be quite pretty. He’s lean, with a cutting jaw, and adorable curly hair. Girls would look away a flutter of red flags if it meant birthing kids with those traits. 

You sigh, pushing the Cosmo off your bed, rolling to your belly. You rest your chin on your crossed arms, eyeing Matty. He gives you a look at the shifting noise, rounding his eyes as they fall on the stripe of skin your loose lounging shorts have revealed in the crossfire. It’s barely a few centimeters of your asscheeks, but Matty blushes all the same, flipping back to his book as though burned. You smirk. Interesting.

“Matty,” you trail lightly, the cadence of a song. 

You found your bright new, shining distraction. Your smile is vicious and dangerous, ready to bite, to gnaw to the bone. 

Matty looks up at you, incertain. You rarely address him during your tutoring lessons. You’re not even sure you’ve said his name before, at least not to him. “I’m bored with biology,” you declare, artfully pouty and dejected. 

“Oh,” he says. He swallows thickly. Flips through his book. His nervous tics make him all the more tantalizing to you. Some cruel need to toughen him up. “Um—”

You lick your teeth, grinning. “I want to study anatomy.”

Matty laughs, pushing his glasses up his nose. “That’s not in the syllabus.” There’s something about his total misunderstanding of your line that makes the need frizzle inside of you. An innocent little thing, to pick and devour through. 

You sit up, resting your weight on your heels. Your knees part suggestively, the loose shorts riding up your thighs. Your crop top sits up your ribs. Belly button piercing winks at him. Matty takes in the sight, face pale. You grin, victorious.  

“I didn’t mean that anatomy,” you say, teasing. You rest a hand loosely on your leg, purposefully dragging his stare down to it. Your pink nails flash against your skin. 

“Oh.” He swallows thickly, hypnotized by the soft flesh of your thighs. “I—” He shakes his head, as if to draw himself out of the daydream. “I, um—” He repeats, then laughs, “What?”

You sigh, kneeling up and getting off the bed. Your bare feet wiggle in the fuzzy, pink carpet. You prowl to him, predator-like. His breath hitches in his throat, right where you want it. 

“Matty,” you sing, and he chokes at the sound. Just his name drives him wild— good to know. You get close enough to lean on the desk, to tower over him. He blinks up at you, robbed of speech. You flutter your eyelashes at him. “Are you a virgin?” 

His lips part in surprise, but he doesn’t answer. Not that he needs to; the fucking sight of him is enough to know. It’s about the fun of watching him stumble, stutter, push his little glasses up his nose, telltale signs you revel in. 

You sit on the desk, bunching his careful notes. You trail two fingers up his shoulder, that awful cheap plaid. You almost resent the feel of it on your skin, if not for the way he shivers. 

You pout mockingly at him, stopping where the collar of his shirt meets the skin of his neck. “Are you gonna answer me?” 

“Yeah— yes.” You run your fingertips on his neck, a grazing touch that has him staring up at you in devotion. You smirk. 

“Have you ever been touched like this?” You run your thumb to the other side of his neck, a strong path. You want him to feel it, until your hand stretches over his throat, possessive. 

He swallows under your palm, Adam’s apple bobbing on your fortune-telling palm lines. “No,” he admits quietly. You feel it resonate more than you hear it. 

You hum, silently thrilled. “And have you ever been kissed?” You whisper. 

Matty stares up at you. He waits a second, two— takes his time. “No.” You smirk. You pick your gum between two fingers, pressing it into the corner of his notes. Perfect. 

It’s a little awkward, of course, because you’re perched on the desk and he’s sitting all the way down on his chair, gripping its arms. But, still, you bend down and kiss him square on the mouth. 

He gasps against you, freezing there. You’re undeterred; you kiss and kiss him, smearing your strawberry lipgloss, until he snaps into action and kisses you back. It’s a rhythmless, artless thing.

He doesn’t know how to kiss. 

What he lacks in technique, he makes up in eagerness, opening his mouth and licking a wet tongue into yours. You giggle a little, taste the Sour Patch kids he nervously ate from his bag between two scientific words you purposefully didn’t remember. You press at his throat, just so he’s as breathless as you are. He moans against your lips, panting. 

Matty doesn’t dare touch. His body is fixed to the desk chair, letting himself be kissed, taking only what you are willing to offer. He sits there like you are breathing life into his mouth, eating and eating and never asking for more. It’s what makes you want to give him more. 

You pull away from him, straightening like a queen taking her throne. Under you, the pages wrinkle and ruffle, and he doesn’t even care. His lips are swollen and pink, shiny from the lipgloss. Breaths puff out from there, pulling attention. 

“You’re kinda pretty,” you admit lowly, like a secret he should know. 

“Thanks,” Matty flushes. 

You release his throat, wiping your pink gloss off his lips. They part instinctively. You smile, slipping your thumb inside. He sucks the strawberry, warm tongue on your fingerprint. Power loosens your head.

“Do you want me?” You ask, as though his mouth drooling around your thumb wasn’t indication enough. You want the words; you want the worship. 

“Yeth,” he says, choking on your finger. You smile, taking it out and drying it on his cheek.

You don’t make a big show of taking your shirt off. Your hands are at the hem of your baby tee, then it’s off your shoulders, thrown on the pink carpet. Matty whines, surprised and overwhelmed, throwing a furtive glance at the cracked door of your bedroom. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, taking his hand. Soft and weak; he hasn’t worked a day in his life. It’s slack between your fingers. He lets you puppeteer it to your breasts, lets you grope yourself with him as an instrument. 

He makes another small noise from the back of his throat, staring at the fucking sight like he can’t quite believe it truly is his own hand. “God,” he mutters to himself, and it’s exactly how you feel. 

“Say thank you,” you taunt him, because you know he will. 

Like clockwork, Matty revels, “Thank you.” Growing bold, he rubs a thumb over your hard nipple, a tough callus you didn’t expect on the tip of it. It makes you moan; a crack in your spotless armor, but he doesn’t even notice. Too preoccupied with playing with your tits, pawing at it greedily. 

“Can I—” He flushes, shaking his head. 

“What?”

“Can I lick them?” A drop of heat strikes through you. You clench your thighs, arching your back into his readied palm. 

“Yes.” He leans in before you’ve finished the s, sucking your abandoned nipple into his mouth. He licks and rubs and pinches, raw skill pulling at your sensitive skin. You bite back groans, breathing harshly. Your chest rises and falls into his mouth, but he’s just as diligent. 

You rake a long-nailed hand into his hair, scratching his scalp with every particularly delicious lick. He moans at that, vibrating on your sensitive nipples. 

He sticks his tongue out, panting like a dog, dipping down to the valley of your tits and pressing a kiss, then climbing up a new breast. He bites gently, and you jump, surprised by his boldness. 

“Sorry,” he whispers. You don’t like this little switch-up in power. He’s supposed to be purring for you, enthrallment shining in his eyes. You tug on his hair, making him look at you. 

Matty stares up, dutiful. He doesn’t care about the power game; hasn’t even realized you were slipping. He takes what you give. 

You soothe away the sting of his hair. “Pretty boy,” you coo. Matty beams at that. “I want to hear you scream.”

With this, you jump off the desk, and kneel under it. 

“Oh,” Matty says, eyes wide as he watches you fumble with his pants. You unbutton and unzip, fast and knowledgeable, dipping into his boxers— “Wait.”

You look up at him, inches from your goal. You cock your head, frowning. “What?”

“Just—” He pants, staring at you. “Just give me a second.”

You hum, grazing a finger on the faint happy trail of his stomach. His belly sucks in. “Are you nervous?”

“No,” he says. “Yes. I don’t know.” He laughs. His hands still grip the armrests, white-knuckled. “Why are you doing this?” 

You shrug. “I want to.” You tip your head, kissing his soft hand. “Do you want me to?” 

“Well, yeah.”

You grin. “Relax.” Finally, your hand slips under his underwear, and you wrap around his hard length. He gasps, cold fingers against hot skin, fingers against him. 

His hips jump into your fist as you draw him out. Another nervous glance to the door, still half-opened. Your parents are somewhere in the house, pretending not to exist. You lick your lips.

You lightly scratch your pink nails against him. You run a thumb on his tip, smearing precum. He hisses, turning into a moan as you slowly drag your hand down. He’s frozen and tense, almost afraid of moving, as if that would make you go away. 

“Teach me,” you say. 

He blinks at you, dazed. “Huh?” 

Your eyes vaguely look up to the desk you hide under, biology notes in his scratchy writing laying wrinkled. “Biology. My parents are paying you for a reason, aren’t they?” 

“Oh—” He flushes, embarrassed. Pushes his glasses up. “Right, right.” His hands let go of the armrests, searching through the pages. You choose this moment to kiss the tip of his cock. He whimpers, shutting his eyes in pleasure. “Fuck.” You giggle, all too happy. 

He struggles to find where you disturbed him, biting his lip in comical concentration. You tease him, enjoying all the little breaths he chokes on, the soft sounds he tries to hide. Your hand pumps up and down, twisting at the wrist. 

You wonder how often he’s done this on himself, who he imagined between his legs. 

From now, it’ll be you. You’ll make sure of it. 

“Um, right, so,” Matty starts, out of breath. “In some reactions,” he continues arduously, “one substrate is broken down into multiple products. And—” Devilishly, you lick a stripe up his length. He groans, twitching on your tongue. “Shit,” he mutters. It’s funny coming from him; the swear rings wrong, like a costume. 

He drags his stare down, pulling away from his notes to watch you. You indulge him, parting your lips and wrapping them around his tip. You suck on it gently. His face wrinkles, a moan breaking from him. You pull your head down, swallowing him. He clutches at his papers, scrunching them himself. 

“Oh, God,” Matty says, trying to catch his breath as you bob your head. “I’m— Shit.” 

You let go of him with a wet pop, stroking him quickly. “Shh,” you tease him. “My parents.” Again, he throws a nervous look towards the door. 

Saliva and lipgloss and precum already lube him, but you keep your hand at his base as you spit on his cock. You drag it down his length. Matty’s eyes snap towards you. “Do that again.” He wants to see you.

You smirk, tilting your head to leave wet kisses up his cock, then lick his tip. You spit on it, and a low groan resonates from him. His hips rise up into your hand, but you push them down with your claws. 

“Fuck,” he whimpers from the back of his throat, melting on the chair. He likes it messy. You grin, peppering little kisses over his cock, smearing him in strawberry lipgloss. 

“What’s the other thing?” 

“Huh?” He blinks, tying himself back to reality. “Right, um, substrates. It’s—” Again, you choose this moment to push him down your throat. He loses speech, mumbling incoherent syllables, some broken version of your name. 

Though your head bobs quickly, pulling further and further down his length, twisting a stroking hand all the same, you pinch your nails at his hip. He jumps, struck out of the daze of pleasure, blinking down at you. 

“Yeah, it’s— The other reactions are—” You let go of his hip, pinching your own nipple instead. Matty whines, losing his train of thought. “You’re not being fair.”

You laugh, spitting him out to catch your breath. You grope yourself and he watches, not sure which hand to focus on. His cheeks are tinted red, maybe from effort, or adrenaline, or shyness. It’s cute enough to bite. 

Wonder shines in his eyes. He can’t believe this is happening; he’s eternally grateful, as he should be. As they all should have been, those faceless men you’ve blown in the bathrooms of parties for attention and a momentary stop to complete boredom. They stayed quiet, almost afraid to make noise, to show they enjoyed it, until they shook and spilled inside your mouth. Matty’s not afraid to moan. 

Your brain rushes, sticky happy. You pant on his cock, trailing a finger down your stomach, then dipping in your shorts. Matty’s eyes widen, straightening to catch a glimpse. You smile, catching a pool of your arousal. 

You come back up, fingers sticky and wet with your slick, and smear it on his cock. Matty scrunches his face, whimpering, shaking under your hands. 

“You’re trying to kill me.”

“Only because it’s easy,” you mock, jerking and twisting your two hands in rhythm, wet sounds ringing in the room. 

You free his cock, gripping the armrests of the chair instead. You wrap your mouth around it, and bend down until your nose touches the faint smatterings of dark hair on his belly. You gag on him, and he strangles the edge of the desk trying to kill his moans. 

You pump him in your mouth quickly, feeling him twitch and rise to meet you. He remembers himself, falling down on the chair dutifully, not even burying a needy hand in your hair, as though afraid that would be asking for too much. 

You drag up, making him hit the inside of your cheek, before releasing him. You spit the precum on him, blinking up through teary eyes. He doesn’t have any words, red swollen lip bitten raw. 

“I taste great,” you say, and then offer up your still-wet fingers to him. He’s eager, sucking them into his mouth. He bobs, imitating you, and the sight and feel makes hot desire drip inside of you. 

You want to squeeze him until he pops. 

You take his hand, pulling it into your hair. He grips instinctively, pushing it out of your face. “Don’t push,” you warn, serious. He nods frantically, and you trust him to mean it. 

You take him into your mouth for what you know is the final time. You’re certain he won’t last long, droopy and moaning and twitching, hissing every time your tongue runs on him. You bob with skill and precision still. He tugs at your hair, both hands in now, trembling in the mess of it. He never pushes, or fucks his hips up; trusts you to undo him yourself. 

He swears and curses and whimpers, head falling down and back, vacillating between the sky and your red, puffy face. The sink is heard from faraway, but you don’t think he can even hear it. 

“I'm dreaming,” he whispers to himself, sounding wild. “I’m gonna wake up. I’m gonna be— I’m gonna—” Matty cries, slapping a hand over his mouth, and comes down your throat. He shakes, loud moans hidden in his palm, eyes shut and forehead wrinkled. 

He lets go of your hair with a fucked-out sigh, panting. His eyes never leave you, disbelief written all over it. You pull him out of your throat, and smile at him. 

You’re about to swallow when he touches your arm, unsure of where he’s allowed to now. “Wait, can you—” He grows embarrassed, blushing. “Can you open your mouth?”

You part your lips, showing off his white cum still sitting on your tongue. He whimpers at the sight, fingers digging into your arm. His breathing turns irregular, cheeks reddening, eyes darkening. He’s so strange. 

Still, you stick your tongue out, putting his load in evidence, making a spectacle of it. He looks tortured, enthralled. 

You stay long enough that you feel it run down, long white rope hanging from your tongue, then dropping on your breast. 

“Fuck,” Matty whispers to himself. Seemingly without thinking, he runs his thumb on your breast, catching his cum and sucking it between his lips. 

You smile, slurping the cum back into your mouth, and swallowing it. You flash your red tongue at him. “All clean.”

“Thank you,” Matty says. “I— I’m not sure why you did that, but— I, you know, appreciate it.” He’s so polite. You’d laugh if he wouldn’t snap back into that little head box of his. 

“I’m very thankful for all those lessons,” you wink.

“No, you’re not.” 

“No, I’m not.” Matty’s finger rubs the skin of your arm, that strangely tough callus, and it has you leaning into his touch. “Though, this has been my favorite lesson.” 

“God, I couldn’t even get a word out.”

“Hence why.”

Matty snorts and he offers you a hand. You grab it to manœuvre out from under the desk. You push your sweaty hair out of your face, then wipe the leftover stickiness from your breasts. 

Matty, of course, follows the movement to your tits. He swallows. “Do you, um,” he pushes his glasses up. “Do you want, like, something back?” 

You arch an eyebrow, incapable of holding a small giggle this time. “Do you know how?”

He stares into your eyes. “I could try.”

And, again, there’s just something about his eagerness, his willingness, his open devotion, that has you saying, “Yeah, I guess you could try.”

You tiptoe to your bedroom door, looking left and right into the hallway, before quietly shutting it. You turn around to a displeased Matty. “Oh, so you get to have it closed?” 

“‘S more fun when you’re struggling,” you shrug, devilish. You run to the bed, falling on the pillows, fluttering your eyelashes at him. “Come here, pretty boy.” He practically trips out of his chair to find you. He’s three steps in when you stop him. “Take your clothes off.”

He grows shy under your gaze. Staying in place, fingers shaking, he starts to unbutton his plaid shirt. He kicks off his sneakers and his baggy jeans until he stands there in his boxers. He’s as scrawny as you imagined him to be. You smile. 

Matty crosses his arms. “Can I see you, too?” He whispers.

You shimmy your shorts off your legs and throw it beyond the bed. Matty’s stare stutters on your pink thong, wet patch where your desire pooled. 

You draw a hand towards him and he takes it, falling over you on the bed. He doesn’t waste time, giving you a sloppy kiss before mouthing at your neck, your collarbones, your tits. He laps at them first and you wonder if he’s trying to get the last lingering taste of his cum. He catches a nipple next and sucks it. 

Gaspy moans leave your lips. You part your legs instinctively and he buries between them, already hardening. His cock hits your thigh and he sucks and pinches and plays until you start thinking he might really be able to try. 

Your hands descend down his back, freckled under your nails. You grip his small waist, pushing at his hip, the hem of his boxers. Matty understands, leaving you long enough to kick them off. He pants in front of you, leaning back already, wet, swollen mouth parted. 

Matty lays over you again and his hard cock presses into your need. You scratch your nails up his back and he jerks, bucking into you. A moan leaves both your mouths. He tries again, artless, just off your clit. 

“Oh,” he whispers, mostly to himself. He does it again, building and building heat inside of you, yet never relieving. 

You huff. You sneak a hand between your bodies, moving your thong aside until he slips under it. 

Another boy would have taken the opportunity, would have buried inside before you even had time to nod, but Matty doesn’t even think of it. 

He humps your wet cunt, tucked tight under your underwear, hem pressing his length. Matty moans every time, quickening, desperate. He tilts his hand to better see as his cock bulges the cloth, a wet patch forming where his precum stains. 

“Fuck.”

And it’s better; he’s faster, and firmer, and mostly there. He follows your little puffs of shameful breaths, staying where they transform into slack moans. Pleasure starts waking up inside your belly, sickly warm. 

But you’ve had boys hump at you before, had them bucking between your legs. You know it’s not what will get you off. You need your mind stimulated, to be so thoroughly hot and desperate you finally let yourself go. 

You pinch the nape of his neck, making him look at you. A slack, messy smirk lays on your lips. You tease, “Have you ever thought of me during our tutoring sessions?” 

Matty’s hips stutter. He looks away. “Like…”

“Yeah, like, on my knees.”

Matty blushes. “Well, yeah.” 

You grin, too pleased. A deadly smile, hunting. “When?”

“I don’t know…” He mutters. You scowl to yourself, and maybe he senses that, because his chin grazes your shoulder and he admits shamefully, “When you ate that popsicle. And you licked and you slurped and you sucked and, just— I’m a guy. I had visions.” 

“I had visions.” You imitate, mocking. You tsk, “You're such a nerd.” You roll your hips back against him and a whimper buries in the skin of your shoulder. “Was it how you imagined?”

“Better.” He nods fervently. “So much fucking better. I actually died, I think. Still unsure whether I’m dead or not.” Pride and power makes your head loose, makes pleasure ripple through your flesh. 

You claw at his skin, warning dangerously, “Tell anyone and you will be.” All it does is make him moan, bucking faster against you. Your toes curl. You breathe in his ear, “Tell me more.” 

“I, uh— Shit.” The tip of his cock burrows in your underwear as he slides, wet and slick from you. He shivers over you. “I’d think about— bending you over the desk.” 

Your smile ghosts your face, grazing his soft, fresh cheek. “Really?”

“Just, you know, when you wouldn’t listen. And you’d pop that chewing gum, and you’d ignore me, and you’d be mean.”

You smirk, clicking your tongue. “So you wanted to, what, toughen me up? Take your revenge?”

His cheeks redden. “No.” His lips brush your shoulders, and he kisses, opposite. “I don’t know. I wanted you to pay attention.” He licks your neck. “I wanted to make you scream.” Mouths at your jaw. “I wanted to fuck you. Or for you to fuck me— I wanted you.”

You can’t believe you’re now the one blushing. You pant, glad he’s buried in your throat, that he can’t see. A moan slips from you as he nips gently at your skin. Your eyes roll in your skull. 

“You like when I’m mean to you?” You tease meanly, out of breath. You scratch his back, burying your hand in his hair, and tugging until he looks you in the eyes. “Gets you all bothered?” 

Matty shivers, whining, “Fuck, please—” 

You push him onto his back, rolling over. Two hands press into his chest, and you might very well concave his ribcage. You stare him down, divine. “You wanted me to fuck you?” 

His messy, unbrushed hair falls around his head like a halo. He’s sweet enough to make your head spin. He watches you openly behind the glass of his specs, breathing, “Yes.”

You trail your fingernails on his hard cock, down to his base. “And now?”

Devoting, “Yes.”

A rush of thrill fills you. You kneel up, shimmying your underwear off. Matty gasps at the sight, raking a hungry gaze up and down your body. He holds the sheets of your bed with white-knuckled fingers. 

You waste no time, rocking your cunt against his tip once, twice, before slowly lowering yourself on him. You inhale at the stretch. Matty’s eyes shut, whining. “Look at me,” you order, and he listens. 

His eyes flash open. He blinks at you as you bottom out. His head rolls, shaking. “Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.” You go to move up, but he holds your hip down. He takes deep breaths. “Can we— Just, this is—”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, taking his hand and placing it over the regular beating of your heart. He thumbs your nipple while he’s there, breathing in sync with your pulse. You slowly roll your hips on him. 

Matty moans, gripping the flesh of your thigh. You let him adjust to the feel of it, rocking softly, dragging your clit on his pelvis. You bite your lip raw as pleasure blooms inside of you. Your thighs ache to go faster, harder, but you maintain the delicate pace for him. Just that has him shaking under you, and you once again grip his hand over your heart to ground him. 

“Sorry,” he says with an embarrassed laugh. “Fuck,” is immediately added when you circle your hips, his eyes rolling. “Fuck, sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” you order. “What are the other reactions?” You say, attempting to drag him out of his anxiety-filled head. He frowns at you. “Of enzymes.”

His lips part. “I didn’t know you knew that term.” 

You roll your eyes, then your hips, euphoria fizzling under your skin. “I listen to you.” His unconvinced look betrays him. “Sometimes.”

“They’re, um— Shit. They come together to create one— fuck, one larger molecule or—” You finally rock faster, angling your hips to have him bury inside you right where you need him. You moan, chest rising and falling quickly. Your legs grow desperate; you chase that sickly pleasure. 

“Yeah?” You encourage him on, seeing his own pleasure resonate in his face. He bites his lip, pawing uselessly at your thigh. “Or?” You’re out of breath. 

“Or swap pieces,” he finally finishes between two moans. Chuckles, “Actually, pretty much all biological reactions you can think of probably—” Your hips fall harsher on him and he loses his train of thought, overwhelmed. You smile, setting a wild pace, completely unfair. 

“Probably what?” You say, teasing, “I’m always thinking about biological reactions.”

“Don’t tease,” he pouts, and you slow down your thrusts just to spite him. He whines, pressing his short fingernails into the skin of your thigh. 

“Come on.” You make him look you in the eyes, mocking, “Educate me.”

“They all have enzymes,” Matty finally finishes. You reward him by reaching down and pinching his nipple. He whimpers, cursing your name. “Why have you suddenly decided to be a good student?” 

“‘Cause you’re adorable when you’re struggling to find words,” you answer honestly. You hold your weight up on the hand pressed into his chest, angling your hips until your clit rubs and rubs his pelvis. Your eyes roll, fucking him quicker. “Fuck. I love when I can make you all stupid for me.” The power in changing up his DNA composition, making a smart boy incapable of remembering all the jargon you yourself don’t know, is addictive. Undoing him block by block until he’s putty in your hands. Matty just moans, not arguing. 

Sweat pearls his forehead. The white sheets make him angelic. He breathes your name, fluttering his eyelashes at you. “Can I try on top?” Maybe it’s because he looks so reverent, so innocent, that you nod. 

Matty doesn’t push you and roll you over, instead staying there, as though waiting for it to just magically happen. You giggle to yourself, unmounting him and falling back on the mattress, legs parted. He swallows thickly, laying over you. 

His glasses fall down his nose and you laugh, grabbing them and carefully placing them on your nightstand. He blinks, adjusting to the blurry sight. 

His hand shakes as he grabs himself and lines up. He misses once, twice, until you rest a soothing hand on his and guide him. Matty moans in your hair as he slides in. He stays in your wet heat for a second, catching his breath, before he thrusts. 

And it’s bad, of course. He doesn’t have any rhythm, bucking blindly inside of you. It’s a strange pace, irregular and powerless. He certainly can’t find any type of mindnumbing spot. Pleasure simmers lowly in your belly, heat turned off almost to nothing if it weren’t for the pretty moans that bury straight in your ear. 

You grab his hip, making Matty look at you. “Start slow,” you instruct, guiding him. He follows the movements of your hand, rocking back and forth, slow but regular. “There,” you nod, arching your back. “Just, tilt—” He repositions himself, eager to learn, and you shudder. You call his name, syrupy with moans. 

He’s a fast learner, following diligently the guidings of your gripping hand. He fucks into you slowly, but surely. Your toes curl. Pleasure wakes up again, coiling in your belly. “Like this?” He breathes. You nod, encouraging him on. 

“It’s like I’m tutoring you,” you remark, chuckling to yourself. Matty snorts. “I like being the smart one for once.”

Matty frowns. “You’re always smart.” He says it without thinking, because he means it. Something wet chokes your throat, tugs at your lips. “You just don’t listen.”

“Would you like me to?” You say, tone taunting. A self-destroying instinct, telling you to hurt, to ruin. “Make me your little pet? Be all obedient? Have me sucking your cock while you tell me all about biology?”

His eyebrows furrow. “Do you want me to do that?” All your bullets don’t land. He’s unconcerned on what he wants. You huff.

Instead of reckoning, you order, “Faster, now.” Matty nods against your cheek. He obeys, thrusting quicker. You let go of his hip, climbing up his back just to rake your nails down it. His hips snap faster, harsher, endeavored. You grin, licking his jaw, kissing the bone. 

“Fuck,” he whimpers, catching your lips and kissing you. You wrap your arms around his neck, trapping him there as he ruts between your legs. You swallow all the sounds he makes, kill the swears you think of saying. Euphoria washes you. 

He leaves your lips just to smack wet kisses over your face, again and again. On your forehead, your cheeks, your eyelids, your chin. He mouths down your throat, starts sucking and nipping at the side. You bury a hand into his hair, pushing him further down. “Not the neck,” you explain, breathy. 

Matty finds the side of your tits and he buries there, sucking at your skin. You arch into his mouth, pleasure rushing up your side at the pinpricks of pain. He moans against you, bucking faster. Your mind spins and spins. “Matty.” Again, he speeds up, harsh and wild. “Fucking hell, Matty.” 

You tug at his hair and he releases you, lips wet and swollen. He pants over you, eyes dazed with pleasure. A new wave of heat strikes you just from the sight of him, unmade and wild. You sneak a hand between your bodies. You find your clit easily, rubbing. 

Matty’s head drops to watch you. He whines, seeing where he disappears inside of you, over and over, where your pink nails swipe at you. 

He leans his weight on one arm, joining his own hand with yours. You’re surprised at the act, at the willingness of involving himself in the complicated business of your pleasure. Your fingers stop, resting up on your stomach. 

He paws blindly at your cunt, just a little off where you need him. You grip his wrist, angling him at the right place, gently circling and swiping with his finger. The callus presses on your clit and it’s a delicious sensation. You roll your eyes, crying out, then slapping your palm over your mouth. Matty grins proudly, continuing to rub at you. 

“This is good, right?” He whispers, pretty eyes all vulnerable on you. 

You nod frantically. “Yes. It’s good.” You melt on the sheets, parting your legs further. “It’s really good.” His cheeks flush at the compliment. You wrap your hand around his throat, resting there with silent ownership. “Did you ever think it’d be me?” 

Matty chokes on a laugh and a moan. “No. I never thought you’d ever even give me a look.” 

You hum, pleased with the answer. He realizes it’s a privilege. You grin, pressing your fingers on the sides of his neck. His hips stutter, then snap even faster, a broken cry leaving him. His lips part in quiet ecstasy. His eyes shut,  rapid movement behind his eyelids. 

You grin at him. “Say thank you, pretty boy.” 

You release him, at least giving him a chance. He falls into your shoulder, taking deep inhales, shaking. “Thank you,” he says, mumbly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You rake through his hair, soothing. “Aw, fuck, I’m gonna—” He twitches inside of you. 

“Not inside!” You shout. Matty gasps, thrusting out of you. He cries as he comes on your navel and cunt. He catches his breath, blinking himself back to this reality, still shaking. 

“Sorry,” he says, shortwinded. A pang of disappointment hits you. It’s not like you’ve ever come with someone else before, but it had felt really close this time. 

At least Matty tried. 

Matty watches his cum painted over your skin, catching your piercing, mixing with the slick of your cunt. He moans to himself, then bends down between your thighs. 

You rest on your elbows, frowning. “What—” He licks a stripe over your cunt, tasting both your juices. Euphoria strikes through you. Your back hits the mattress as you fall back, legs shaking. “Matty.” He hums, faraway, licking and licking to clean you all up. You bury a hand in his hair, grounding him in place. 

He finds your clit, rubbing it with the tip of his tongue, circling then sucking it. You jolt on the bed, biting back a scream. You frown to yourself, tugging on his hair, fire boiling inside your stomach. What the fuck. 

He laps at you, moaning every time your nails scratch his scalp, the sound vibrating against you. A hand wraps around your thigh, keeping you open for him. He devours you eagerly, hungrily, until you’re a mess melting into his mouth. 

“God, Matty,” you cry. You have to actually hold back another one with a slap of your hand, shocked at yourself as you scream into your palm. 

Matty stops, breathing harshly, and you throw a glance down in question. He climbs up your stomach, lapping at your skin, cleaning the last of his cum. You whimper at the dirty sight, desire drumming down your limbs. 

He throws you a hot look. Tongue out, full of white cum. He goes back between your legs and buries it in your cunt, fucking it in. You jump, cursing to the ceiling. Matty laughs, greedily tasting you. 

You roll your hips into his face, hitting the tip of his nose on your clit. Every strike has ecstasy resonating in your bones. You feel light on your bones. 

His lips wrap around your clit. He sucks, grazing a tongue, swiping and circling like you showed him. You recognize the same pattern, recognize the rhythm. Of course he’s a fast learner. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chant, choked by your hand. You raise your hips into his mouth, silently begging. Your legs shake, desperate. Pressure pushes at your belly. Your eyes roll. “Don’t stop.”

He mumbles something in your cunt, probably a promise or a praise, dutifully not stopping. He laps and eats and fucks until your brain melts into your skull, dripping down your spine. 

“Oh, fuck, I’m—” Your head shakes fervently. “Just stay— Shit, Matty, just— I—” The pressure snaps and you come on his readied tongue, screaming. Hot white flashes in your vision. Relief washes you, dipping to every crevices, relaxing you. He moans against your cunt. 

Matty continues to lick you, mission-bound, until your lungs are on fire and you physically push him away. He smiles up at you, chin sticky and wet and red. He wipes it, kneeling. 

“Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?” You say, shortwinded, shocked to your bones. You stare at him like he’s grown a second head. 

It’s the first time someone other than your knowing hand made you come. And it’s fucking Matty Healy. You blink at him. 

“What?” He laughs, falling beside you on the bed. 

You gesture vaguely downwards. “That.”

“Oh,” he blushes. Shrugs. “I don’t know. I researched it once.”

“You— Oh, my God.” You stare at the ceiling in disbelief. “Oh, my God. You’re such a nerd.”

Matty grins, cheekily proud. He gently grazes the bruise he left on your breast, the splotch of red that will darken, be a leftover trace of him. 

“Thanks,” he says simply. 

“You’re welcome.” You shift your legs, feeling the wetness still between them. “Thanks to you too, I guess.” He grins, hiding in the white pillows. 

He gives you a look. “Will you listen when I tutor you now?” 

You smirk mischievously. “Maybe if you have my fingers in your mouth.”

“Oh,” Matty says, eyes wide. “Will you— Will this happen again?”

You make a noncommittal shrug, though a more definite answer hums in your heart. “Maybe if you’re really good.” You smile to yourself. “Or really boring, and I need to shut you up.”

“You can shut me up any day.”

“I know.” You linger in that moment for just a second more, eyes locked together, smiles tickling your lips. Then you sit up, reaching for your underwear. “Session’s almost done.” 

Matty nods, lips thin. “Right.” He pats the nightstand for his glasses.  

You dress yourselves, wiping away sweat and cum, brushing wild strands. You give an awkward goodbye, incertain, and Matty slips from the room. You don’t follow him to the door. You never do. 

Downstairs, you hear your parents thank him and give him a crisp 50 dollar bill. You giggle to yourself and fall on the bed, bone-deep exhausted. 

[sugar-coat-it]

Teenage Dream

Let you put your hands on me in my skin-tight jeans

Be your teenage dream tonight <3

Contains: Drive Like I Do!Matty, slightly subby Matty, first times, young love 🥲, dry humping, hair pulling, Matty being a down bad dork, giggly little mishaps, guided fingering, unsubtle dirty talk, protected penetrative sex, hand-holding during sex, Matty fighting for his life not to cum, first L word

Fem! Reader

WC: ~7.8k

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2007ish: Completely inexperienced but so eager, Matty and his girlfriend have their first time

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Matty can hardly shut the door before your hands are on him, you’re all over him in every sense of the term. You crush your lips to his, making him stumble slightly from the force of your kiss. He smiles against your mouth at your impatience, his chuckle swallowed by the eager locking of your lips. You feel your head swim, almost dizzy at the passion being exchanged as trembling hands reach for everything they can touch, it’s almost like your brain is dripping down your spine. Matty’s fingers knot into your hair as he walks you backward until you’re pressed against his front door. You can practically feel his adrenaline thrumming in his veins, rushing to his every nerve as he licks into your mouth with fervor. He’s still brimming with the rush from his gig, and you’re reeling from the memory of watching him perform. It’s honestly a miracle you’d made it inside his house at all considering the frenzied heat burning you both up from the inside, the flames fanned by the knowledge of what’s planned for the night. Every kiss is sealed with the promise of more.

You can feel the heat radiating off of Matty’s body as he keeps you trapped between his lanky frame and the door, your teeth slightly clashing with his from the intensity of the kiss. He pulls away to catch his breath, panting hot fans of air over your lips as he grins at you widely, toothily. 

“What?” you prompt, breathless, pursing your lips playfully.

Matty swallows thickly, seemingly frozen for a moment as his eyes search your face, quietly observing your touseled hair, swollen lips, cheeks tinged a lovely shade of pink: his new favorite shade of pink. He shakes his head, his thick, dark (and messily side-parted) hair swaying. 

“Nothing, nothing. Sorry. I just–” he pauses, glancing away for a moment like your stare is burning a hole into him, “I dunno… you look very pretty tonight.”

Something sparks in you at that, the realization that Matty, your Matty, was getting a little shy, trying to hide it by looking everywhere but at you. When he finally glances back, finding you a little awestruck, he just smiles fondly, his lips almost a little wobbly. He makes a surprised noise as you pull him by the collar of his shirt into another heated kiss, his hands pawing down your back to hastily grasp the curve of your ass through your jeans. He presses himself impossibly closer to you, his hips flush against yours as excitement thickens the air around you. A tingly shiver rushes through you, leaving blooming warmth in its wake as you feel the tenting in his pants protruding against you. Matty pulls away from your mouth, beginning to press wet, open-mouthed kisses to your neck. You can feel the sound of a low groan rumbling through his chest as he licks a stripe from your collarbones to your jawline.

His hips make a sudden, reflexive jump forward as you tighten your grip on his hair, tugging just enough to draw a wanton moan from his lips. Matty chokes, a new, fizzling sensation arising in him as he realizes just how damn good that felt. Tentatively, he tries again, rolling his hips into you and immediately cursing under his breath at the feeling. Your eyes go wide as the seam of your jeans catches on you just right while he begins to mindlessly search for friction against you. You let out mirrored, breathy moans as Matty lifts his head from the crook of your neck, the both of you staring at each other in awe of your little discovery, sparks flying like stray shooting stars. His gentle, dark eyes twinkle as he watches your expression closely, kiss-bitten lips parted and shining. 

“O-oh shit,” he murmurs, his eyes rolling back slightly as he continues to grind into you. 

The friction is dizzying as you begin to rock into him, matching his slightly stuttered rhythm as you sigh out, giving his dark tresses another pull with the fingers intertwined in his hair. Matty reaches for your thighs, grasping at the back of them pointedly to get your attention. He’d seen it in a music video before, one that his mother wouldn’t approve of him watching on late-night MTV. The girl had jumped up to straddle the guy's waist while they kissed passionately against the wall. That little scene had been nestled in his mind ever since he saw it, he was frankly a little obsessed with it. How hard could it be to replicate? “Straddle me,” he pants, his greedy fingertips digging into the denim of your jeans. 

“What? How?” you whisper, feeling almost lightheaded at the suggestion. 

“Just- erm… jump, I’ll catch you, yeah?” 

You just laugh, shaking your head with a bit of uncertainty, but Matty seems anything but uncertain. He stares back at you with determined eyes, his hands twitching like they’re ready to hold your weight up at any moment. With nothing to lose (except your tailbone in one piece), you jump and wrap your legs around Matty’s slender hips with a squeak. His eyes go wide as he wobbles slightly, but his hands firmly grasp your thighs to keep you upright, seeming absolutely petrified at the idea of dropping you. Your eyes lock and you share a triumphant, breathy laugh while you place your hands around his neck, Matty beaming at you boyishly. 

Heat prickles at your cheeks as you realize just how much more distinctly you can feel him through his skinny jeans in this position. Experimentally, you rock your hips forward, relishing in the way Matty’s mouth drops with a gasp, his brows drawing together tightly. His head bows forward, his forehead dropping to your shoulder with a resounding “fuck”, the pressure in his pants only getting achier. You can feel him twitch beneath the measly layers of fabric. 

Within only seconds, you’re both eagerly moving against each other, gasping as the heat between you gets more intense with every needy roll of your hips. Matty whines, his face buried in the crook of your neck amidst the frenzied chase for sensation, he could swear he’s never been so hot and bothered. Neither of you is thinking, you let your bodies speak everything your hazy minds could never express. You’ve never felt so insatiable in your whole life. Hot, liquid need is corroding you, it’s building to new heights, it’s–

 Suddenly, Matty’s whole body tenses against you, a strangled noise tearing through him that sparks a flutter between your thighs. He presses his hips forward hard as if trying to pin you against the door with his body so tightly that you wouldn’t move, his blunt fingernails biting into your skin through your pants. Your eyes go wide at the way your boyfriend has just about seized up, your body going stagnant against his.

“Wait-wait, fuck, just slow down a second, I-I’m actually gonna cum in my pants if you keep doing that. Fucking hell,” he rambles, barely able to get the words out as he gasps for breath, utterly flushed.

The revelation washes over you like an electrifying wave, your lips parting with surprise. The knowledge that he’d almost creamed his skinny jeans just from some kissing and grinding makes you feel almost… powerful. Pride warmly simmers in your chest as you gently pet his hair, watching him with a bit of fascination.

Matty desperately clutches at your thighs, his breath hot and heavy against your neck as he wills his body to get back under his control. He’s internally cursing himself for getting so carried away, almost letting this end before it had even begun. He mutters out a breathless apology, his soft lips grazing your skin. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t suppressing a giggle at the moment, forcing your lips not to crack with a smile. 

“Fuck me! You’re a menace,” Matty groans, biting at your shoulder in retaliation. 

“What is wrong with you!?” you protest, giggling as he lightly sinks his teeth into your skin, grinning while he does it. You’d argue that if anyone’s a menace, it’s him. 

He soothes over the mark he left with his tongue, finally loosening his vice grip on your legs now that he’s not seconds away from embarrassing himself. Matty lifts his head up, gently pressing his forehead to yours, gazing at you quietly while you toy with his hair, rendering his brain practically useless with how nice it feels. His eyes are searching yours, staring back at you with pupils so blown, his eyes look almost black.

“Do you wanna go up to your room?” you whisper, the implications making Matty’s breath catch in his throat.

He doesn’t even let the question hang in the air for an entire second before he replies, practically tripping over his words. “Yeah. Yes, absolutely,” he says, his voice cracking slightly as he tries to contain his excitement. 

You smile at him, ruffling his hair just to watch him keen into your palm. Matty slowly eases you back down onto your wobbly legs. He snickers at the way your knees buckle slightly, earning him a smack on the arm as you start to chase him up the stairs, bounding your way to his bedroom as fast as your legs can carry you while his loud laugh echoes through the empty house. 

Once you reach his door, Matty insists that you let him go inside first to set things up. You snort at the way he opens the door just wide enough for him to shimmy through the slim crack, not wanting you to see his room unprepared. You shake your head at his pure, unbridled dorkiness, but really, you can’t ignore the way it affects you to know how much he cares. Many boys your age would have already finished up with you in their dingy room after a sloppy affair of shallow thrusts and a faked orgasm on a bed with no sheets. 

What you can’t see beyond the door is Matty fishing in his pockets for his lighter after setting out candles he’s “borrowed” from his mother’s bathroom. He’d picked up a few small, unscented candles from the ledge of her bathtub, wrinkling his nose at the intense, unsexy aroma of jasmine and mahogany ones they were surrounded by. Matty carefully lights each of the scattered candles, trying his hardest to control the slight nervous quiver in his hands. He nods, satisfied at the way the amber glow hazily paints his walls (girls dig stuff like that, right?). 

He watched the gentle flickering of the flames for a moment, making sure nothing was going to catch fire before he moved to his next task, reaching into one of his cluttered drawers for a CD he’d burned for the occasion. He thought it’d be far too cliche to actually write “sex playlist” on the disc, instead opting for the more tasteful scribble of your initials put together. He’d spent hours trying to compile the perfect list of songs to soundtrack an intimate moment, getting a little lost in imagining how your gasps of pleasure would intertwine with the music.

Matty grins to himself as he glances around the room, everything set in place how he’d imagined it, perfectly organized teenage boy chaos. He’d even made his bed for once, flannel sheets tucked back and smoothed the best that he could.

Just as he was about to open the door, a particular piece of wall decor caught his eye: a magazine cutout of a topless model glaring from the corner of his room. He gives the nameless model a once-over, hesitating for a moment before crossing the room and tearing it off of the wall, the scotch tape flaking away bits of paint. It felt cool at the time, very cool. But now he’s pretty sure he’d rather fling himself from the window than let you see it, god forbid compare yourself to it. 

A soft grunge song plays quietly in the background as Matty swings the door open, arching his eyebrows at you boyishly. You roll your eyes and push past him, admiring how unusually in order his bedroom is, grateful to not be slipping on a t-shirt strewn on the floor as you cross the room to his bed. As you take a seat on the edge of it, Matty trails behind you, watching with a love-struck, dorky smile pulling at his lips. He almost trips over his feet to sit down next to you when you motion for him to come, curling a finger in his direction. Matty kicks off his beat-up sneakers and slips his graphic t-shirt over his head on the way, revealing his lean torso. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same giddiness bubbling inside you, unable to suppress a fond smile as the bed dips under his weight. 

“Cute candles,” you whisper, drawing him closer, “are they for me?” “Nah, I have them out all the time. It’s kinda a new thing I’m–”

You stop him mid sarcastic quip by pressing your lips to his (with no protests from Matty). Between exchanges of sweet kisses, Matty reaches out for the hem of your shirt, his eyes searching your face as he waits for your permission, his breath bated. You nod at him, watching as he shudders with excitement, bursting at the seams. He pulls the fabric upwards while biting his lower lip raw, ogling you as more and more of your soft skin is exposed to him. 

Matty’s eyes nearly pop out of his head as he spots the lace of your bra, revealed to match your panties as you squirm out of your jeans, letting them crumple to the floor in a heap. He swiftly lifts your shirt the rest of the way off, carelessly tossing it over his shoulder. His Adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. 

His brain might as well be short-circuiting, his hands frozen in place, hovering by your sides as he shamelessly stares at the way your breasts look, snug in the intricately patterned lace, the heart locket he’d saved up to get you for your birthday sitting perfectly between them. Your heart thrums against your ribs as you watch his hungry eyes rove over you, heat simmering at your cheeks as you wait for him to do something, anything. The silence from the normally motor-mouthed boy feels like somewhat of an accomplishment. 

Slowly, a pleased smile spreads across Matty’s face, one of his hands gingerly moving to trace a single finger across the lace of your bra, delicately running over the cups with pure awe written all over his face. 

“Oh my god… did you get this for me? Shit, that’s so mint,” he beams, his eyes twinkling. 

“Please don’t say “That’s so mint” when we’re about to have sex.” 

Matty’s eyes flicker up to your face with a start, his thick eyebrows shooting upwards as if he’d just realized the words that had come out of his mouth, his hand pausing its gentle exploration. 

“Erm, right. I meant incredibly hot and sexy and beautiful and hot. Yeah. Did I mention hot already?” he clarifies, smiling sheepishly, “Can I touch more?”

You let out an amused exhale through your nose before permitting him, watching his pretty eyes light up. When you’d bought the set at the mall, you imagined his hands would be all over you, tearing it off like gift wrapping the first chance he got. A beautiful first impression left forgotten on the floor of his bedroom. But he doesn’t. Matty carefully brings his palms to your breasts, his breath hitching as he cups them, feeling their weight. Experimentally, he gives them a squeeze, a shudder running through his lanky body. He smiles up at you giddily, his cheeks flushed as he looks at you like you’re nothing less than his entire world. 

“Can… can I kiss them, too?” he whispers tentatively. 

A soft pant is stolen from your lips at the question. Wordlessly you bring your hand to the back of his head, your fingers entangling in his hair as you guide him forward. Matty’s eyes swim with wonderment as he brings his mouth to the swell of your breast in a tender kiss. He moans softly, lashes fluttering as he trails his lips along the edge of the lace, mouthing a slow line up to the satin strap as his hands continue to knead your chest. 

A slight smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he sees the blissful look on your face, quickly wiped away as you gently tug on the strands of hair caught between your fingers. Matty’s eyebrows draw together, running his tongue over his plush bottom lip before he dips his head down to the valley between your breasts, pressing a kiss to your gold locket. Somehow, it feels even more intimate than his lips on your skin. 

“You’re so beautiful…” he whispers against the pendant. 

Matty’s nimble fingers snake up your back, feeling over the warmth of your skin almost with reverence. He leans his cheek against the softness of your chest, nuzzling his face into you as his hands work to undo the hooks of your bra. You feel him blindly fumbling with the band for a few moments before it comes loose, allowing him to fully trace his fingertips down the expanse of your spine. 

Slowly, Matty eases you backward, laying you down onto his sheets with such gentleness that your heart aches, the straps of your bra sliding down your arms at gravity’s manipulation. He slots himself between your legs, his slim hips settling against yours before finally allowing his gaze to drop to your bare chest, sucking in a sharp breath. You feel him twitch against your thigh through his skin-tight pants as he breathes out something strained and incoherent.

Matty begins to lean down, in turn accidentally pulling on your hair that’s trapped under his palm. You jolt, quickly reaching to grab his wrist with a hiss. He freezes above you for a split second before pulling away, staring down at his hand like he’d been seared. He looks absolutely petrified as he glances back at you, apologies spilling from his lips like opened floodgates, asking if you’re alright. You can’t help but giggle at the pure horror on his face as if he’d ripped out a section of your hair.

“Matty,” you whisper, smiling warmly as you reach and cup his face, running your thumbs over his burning cheeks, “it’s okay, I’m fine!”

You watch the tension slowly melt away from his rigid posture as he nods slowly, a sheepish smile pulling at his lips. It isn’t long before he’s giggling along with you, leaning his forehead against yours as you laugh, Matty’s music playing quietly in the background.

“You’re… so perfect,” he murmurs in between laughter, his breathless giggles making his tone sound giddy, “I mean that… you’re just so-” he doesn’t finish as he dives forwards, silencing himself by pressing his lips against yours.

You’re both smiling into the kiss, barely able to move your lips because of the way you’re grinning, ending up bumping teeth more than making out. Matty’s hands envelop your breasts, gently thumbing over your pebbling nipples, making you sigh into his mouth happily. He groans against your lips, the heat between you spiking again and he pulls away just enough to speak, his lips brushing against yours as he continues to flick his thumbs. 

“Fuck. Can I finger you? Really want to make you cum,” he murmurs, his eyes darting over your face.

Your eyes widen at his blunt question, heat flushing through your body as your breath gets stuck in your throat. How can he just say that so casually?

“Christ, Matty!” you whisper-shout, your fingers tensing at the sides of his face.

He tilts his head at you, blinking much like a clueless puppy, clearly not having a grasp of the nuances of subtle dirty talk. Though he certainly hadn’t spun his words with any flowery language, there was something about his lack of finesse that was… a little hot. He was saying exactly what he was thinking, and you suppose that rawness has its own kind of appeal. 

“Is… is that a no?” he frowns, tilting his chin down dejectedly as he looks up at you through his lashes, his hands slowing to a stop.

“No– no babe,” you answer quickly resuming the gentle running of your thumbs over his flushed cheeks with a breathless laugh, “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?”

You realize that you don’t have much of an answer for him, not when he’s looking at you with such sweetness, such eagerness to make you feel good. You shake your head softly, leaning up to kiss the tip of his nose, causing his face to scrunch up with a chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“Yes, you can touch me,” you whisper, watching a slow grin spread across his lips. 

Matty places a quick kiss on your lips before sitting up to slowly hook his fingers into the waistband of your panties, gently tugging them down your legs with the aid of you lifting your hips off of the mattress. He sucks in a breath as you slowly spread your legs for him, a burning feeling swelling inside you as you let yourself be exposed to him, to anyone, for the first time. Insecurity rattles in your head and gnaws at your insides, but when you see the look on your boyfriend’s face, the whole world stops.

Matty lays on his side next to you, his hand coming to your inner thigh as he gently strokes his thumb over your soft skin, eyes unable to stay in one place as he gawks at the sight of you naked in his bed. His girl. In his bed. No clothes. He’s not entirely sure that he’s not dreaming. 

Tentatively, Matty allows his hand to skim up your thigh, swallowing hard as he feels more of the heat emanating from between your legs the higher he goes. You force yourself to keep breathing, watching his trembling hand as he musters up the courage to cup your heat, listening to his gasp as he feels the slickness at his calloused fingertips. Tingling sensations flood your senses at the contact, a throb resounding between your legs at the uproar of unfamiliar feelings. You’re hyperaware of each of his fingers as you feel him experimentally dip them into your pooling arousal, the sight of Matty’s hand between your thighs alone is enough to make your face burn, your heart race. 

“You’re so wet,” he whispers, the word “wet” coming out like a secret just between the two of you.

Matty glances up at your face, watching your expression carefully as he slowly begins to move his fingers, sliding them back and forth through the wetness, feeling your honeyed folds spread under the gentle pressure of his fingertips. You meet his gaze as your lips part with a shaky breath, his pupils blown wide as he continues his exploratory grazes. 

With his slick middle finger, he feels over you till he finds your slit, slowly pushing inside of you. Matty moans lowly as if he’s the one being pleasured, his gaze transfixed on the sight of his single finger sinking into you, easily being taken into your tight warmth until he’s knuckle deep. His hips instinctively jerk forward, rutting his clothed erection against your leg as you share a mirrored, shuddering exhale. Matty’s fingers feel starkly different than your own, they’re thicker, and longer, with guitar calluses at each of his fingertips that graze your velvety walls. 

The sensation feels foreign, but not uncomfortable as he begins to gradually pump the digit in and out of you, the both of you watching his maneuvers with widened eyes. He doesn’t have much rhythm, but he’s trying his best to learn as he goes. And god… the look on his face. He’s eager, so eager. 

“Is- is this good?” he asks hesitantly, his eyes searching your expression for approval.

You bite your lower lip, not fully knowing how to walk the fine line between guiding him and embarrassing him. The feeling of his finger inside you is enough to make you pant, to make heat stir inside you, but certainly not enough to make you cum. “It’s good, babe. But, what feels really good is when you touch…” you whisper, beginning to gently guide his thumb to your aching clit, “Here.”

Matty’s lips part with an “oh”, his cheeks flushing slightly at your correction. He allows you to direct his hand, lightly brushing his thumb over the swollen bundle of nerves with gentle uncertainty. You jolt slightly at the fizzling spark of pleasure that courses through you. That’s much… much better. 

You feel Matty shudder as you place your fingers over his thumb, pressing the digit down more firmly as you guide him to move in slow, tight circles in tandem with the pumping of his middle finger. Sighing out, you begin to roll your hips against his hand in search of more friction. You can feel Matty’s stare burning into you even as your eyes squeeze shut, the boy focusing so intensely on your every reaction to gauge if he’s doing a good job. 

“Does that feel good, baby?” he asks, sinking a second finger inside you as he lets you puppeteer his hand, studying your face.

“Yes… yes,” you gasp, your lashes fluttering as the heat and tension whirl, coiling tighter in your belly. 

“You sound so pretty,” he murmurs breathlessly, looking like he wants to bottle up all the noises you make and keep them for himself, “Can I try on my own?”

Your eyes flutter open hazily, catching sight of his flushed features, his widened eyes. You nod at him, slowly pulling your hand back and resting it on your stomach. Matty bites his lip with concentration, doing his best to mimic what you’d shown him. Silently, he promises himself that one day this will all be muscle memory and he’ll know how to effortlessly make you feel good whenever you want him to, be at your beck and call.

His thumb works against you diligently, drawing those same tight circles as you’d shown him while he continues to work you open with his fingers. He’s so entirely focused and excited that absolutely nothing else matters at this moment except making you fall apart and finding out what you look like when totally lost in pleasure. Will you call out his name like you do in his daydreams? 

“Matty… breathe,” you remind him, smiling fondly at your hell-bent boy. 

Matty blinks up at you, his ministrations faltering for a moment before he lets out a breath that he didn’t even realize he was holding. A bashful smile twitches at the corner of his kiss-bitten lips. 

“Right, right… can’t make a girl finish if you’re passed out,” he murmurs, leaning to kiss the top of your breast sweetly.

Matty suddenly curls his fingers inside you, crooking them forward just in time for them to catch against your sweet spot. Instantly, you mewl and rock into his hand a little harder. He shudders as he feels your walls clench around his digits, imagining what that would feel like around his– he shakes his head quickly, trying not to get ahead of himself. 

“Here? Right here?” he gasps, watching in awe as your expression twists with bliss.

You nod frantically, your eyes squeezing shut again as the sensations begin to crowd you in the best way possible. You feel it throbbing, reverberating between your thighs, threatening to crash over you with every thrust of his fingers, every swipe of his thumb. It’s not perfect, but what he lacks in skill, he makes up for with pure determination.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, Matty. Keep doing it just like that,” you beg, chest heaving.

“Fuck…” he mutters, grinding himself against your leg a little more heedlessly as he does just that, making sure not to let his eagerness get the best of him. 

You reach down to grip Matty’s wrist in warning as the tension inside you crescendos, knowing you’re only moments away from tipping over that familiar edge that you’ve only ever known in the privacy of your own room. Your head lolls back against the pillows as the rocking of your hips becomes more frantic. 

“Please… please…” he whispers, his gaze intense, “Please, I n-need you to…”

“Matty, I-” you pant, your eyes rolling back before your orgasm crashes over you in a wave of release. 

Your mouth parts with a silent cry as your body tenses, back arching off of his bed as you feel your walls spasming around his fingers. Your nails are digging into his wrist as you begin to pant with breathy whines, riding out your orgasm against his eager hand. Pure satisfaction washes over your body as your lovely boyfriend watches in complete and total awe, continuing to aid you through your climax, wanting you to feel every drop of pleasure he could possibly offer you. 

Matty whimpers as he watches you fall apart for him, his free hand snaking down to the front of his jeans to grasp himself for any kind of relief, his erection aching so badly that it’s starting to hurt. He’s almost lightheaded as he watches you thrash, thinking to himself that this might be the most beautiful that he’s ever seen you, which is a tough battle to win considering that he thinks you look beautiful all the damn time. But this? You at your rawest, at your most vulnerable? Yeah, he’s going to need a minute to recover because there’s an actual angel in his bed with him. 

You grit your teeth as the sensitivity starts to overwhelm you, pulling Matty’s hand out from between your thighs with a whimper before going limp against the pillows. You can’t help but smile, chest heaving and skin glowing with sweat while Matty stares down at his fingers in disbelief at the glinting arousal coating them. Without thinking, he brings them to his mouth, sucking and lapping up the sweetness to savor the taste of your pleasure. The sight makes you blush to your very roots. 

“That was… that was so fucking hot, oh god, when can we do that again?” he mumbles around his fingers. 

After releasing his digits with a wet pop, he scrambles to sit up and get out of his jeans, unable to take it any longer. Matty sighs with relief as he starts to wiggle out of his jeans, the fabric feeling so tight and constricting at his crotch that he thought the zipper might pop off. You watch, amused as he grunts and struggles to get out of his skinny jeans that are likely a size too small. 

The moment they’re off, he’s flinging them across the room and crashing his lips to yours in a messy, blissful tangle of teeth and tongues. Matty licks into your mouth with heated desperation, not even letting you get a word in as you come down from your high. 

“I want to fuck you so bad, I-I think about it all the time,” he mumbles against your lips, cupping your face with trembling hands, “please, please can I be inside you?”

Your mind is still spinning as you quickly nod, barely recovered but still ready for more, for all of him. Your fingers reach for your locket, toying with it, feeling the engraved swirls etched beneath your fingertips. 

“Do you have a…?” 

“Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah. Hold on.”

Matty moves faster than he ever has in his whole life as he gets up and rummages around in his closet for the box of condoms he’d stashed away. He’d bought them earlier that week at the corner store while his mates snickered behind him (“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I don’t see you wankers getting any!”, he’d sneered, sticking out his tongue petulantly). He plops down onto the bed next to you while ripping open the rather large box, your eyes widening as you catch the number “50” printed on the side of it.

“Christ! Why do you have so many?” you gape, doing a double take as you make sure you’ve read it correctly.

Matty shrugs, pulling out a comically long string of silver packets from the box before setting it aside, eyeing them as they glint under the low lighting. It looks like a goddamn party streamer. “What? Gotta be safe, yeah?” 

“You’re not going to break 49 condoms.” 

“I dunno, babe! Maybe I’m a fuckin’ animal and we’ll go 50 rounds, no breaks.” 

You roll your eyes with a snort, giving his shoulder a playful shove as he grins at you toothily. 

“You’re so ridiculous, oh my god.” 

“Nah, but really, they won’t go to waste. I promise you that, babe,” he smirks, waggling his eyebrows as he waves the string of condoms in front of your face teasingly. 

He’s an idiot. However, the idea of using up all of those condoms together makes you a little dizzy, heat sparking through your veins at the thought. You reach out and snatch the packets from him, laying the strand across your chest like a ribbon while you tear one off. You stare up into his eyes, blinking at him prettily as you place the wrapper in your teeth, holding it there with a flair of sensuality. This feeling, the one that makes you feel like you’re desirable, sexual, is one you could damn well get used to. 

Matty’s mouth waters, almost drooling at the sight of what must be every teenage boy’s most depraved daydream: a vixen sent to devour him whole. He wants to burn the sight into his memory forever, his stomach twisting in a tangle of arousal as your lips curl seductively around the foil. He can already envision how this memory will play inside his mind on a loop when he’s alone in his bed.

“You’re going to kill me,” he accuses, shakily taking the wrapper from between your teeth.

You just smile, watching as he fumbles with the foil for a moment before tearing it open, sitting back on his heels as he slides his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers. You allow your gaze to skim down the light spattering of dark hair from his navel to the bulge in his underwear, licking your lips as you eye the sizeable pool of precum that’s soaked into the fabric. Matty glances away, awkwardly clearing his throat as he begins to ease the elastic down his slim hips, kicking his boxers off once they reach his ankles.

Your heartbeat feels as though it’s hammering in your ears as you take in the sight of him, a rush of heat making your hips squirm involuntarily. He’s beautiful and he doesn’t even know it. You want to kiss and bite every inch of his scrawny body. You want to taste his pale skin. You want to feel him, real and warm under your fingertips as they dig into him. But more than anything, you need him inside you. 

Matty lets out a breathy groan as he strokes himself slowly, gathering the precum bubbling at his tip before dragging it downwards with a shudder. He slowly rolls the condom down onto himself, feeling over the latex to make sure it’s secure before glancing up at you, his cheeks a shade of bright pink as he notices your intense stare. 

Your boyfriend settles himself between your legs, gingerly spreading them so he fits above you, his arms on either side of your head, his Mortal Kombat tattoo inches from your face. You reach upwards with an uneven exhale, placing your hands on his chest which rises and falls with shallow breaths. His cock brushes against your inner thigh. Matty looks like he might combust. 

“You’re sure about this?” he whispers, his breath bated. 

Your heart is pounding in your chest, anticipation wrapping her hands around your throat. You want him more than anything. 

“I’m sure… please, Matty,” you say softly, rubbing your thumbs over his collarbones. 

“If it hurts or you wanna stop, you tell me. I-I don’t give a fuck if I’m literally about to cum, you just shout at me or something, alright?” he rambles, using one of his hands framing your face to gently tuck your hair behind your ear. 

“Okay,” you whisper, managing a slightly nervous smile. 

Matty swallows hard, bringing one hand down to his length, guiding it forward till his tip meets your slicked center. You both shiver as he begins to run himself back and forth against you, the realization that you’re about to lose your virginity seeming to hit you both all at once. He shoots you a jittery look, searching your eyes for any sense of regret or discomfort. When he finds none, he begins to carefully line himself up with you, firmly gripping himself to avoid the embarrassment of missing. 

“I’m going to… yeah,” he mumbles. The pinnacle of eloquence. 

Your breath catches in your throat as he begins to push his hips forward, feeling your velvety walls stretch to accommodate him. Matty’s face screws up as he feels your warmth enveloping him bit by bit, panting softly as he experiences an overwhelming tightness around his cock that his own hand could never offer. He makes a choked noise, internally reminding himself that he needs to last long and do a good job for you, to not cum the second he’s inside. 

“F-fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-” he mutters, his teeth gritting as he tries not to completely lose his goddamn mind. 

 You hiss at the intrusion as he slowly inches inside you, the unfamiliar feeling being somewhat like getting split open. Almost involuntarily, you reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with a comforting squeeze. Matty pauses, his eyes blinking open, flashing with affection as he squeezes your hand back, finding solace in the familiarity and simplicity of your touch. You nod at him softly, running your thumb over his knuckles as you breathe through this initial, slight discomfort. His eyes are lidded as he watches your expression closely, wanting to kiss away the bit of tension on your features. 

“You’re so tight… so fucking– oh fuck,” he babbles, brows knitting together as he continues sliding inside of you, trembling. 

He can’t seem to stop rambling and cursing, squeezing your hand a little tighter before finally reaching his hilt, filling you entirely as your hips meet. Matty’s head dips forward with a deep groan, feeling himself pulse inside you. He didn’t immediately cum the moment he was fully inside you, which he considered to be a win at the moment considering how fucking incredible this feels. 

“Feels so fucking good… oh my god- oh my god, you feel so good…” he rambles breathlessly, his hand wrapped tightly around yours.

You breathe deeply, the stretch creating a low, simmering feeling in your walls as you try to fully relax and adjust. Matty gazes down at you adoringly, panting as he clenches every muscle in his body to try and stave off his already impending orgasm. The urge to move and thrust and fuck is urgent, but he forces himself to stay still, needing to make sure you’re comfortable. 

 “Baby, are you okay?” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your forehead, quivering from his head to his toes, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

“I’m good, love. Are you okay?” you giggle, raising your eyebrows at him.

“I’m… I’m– yeah. Best. Best ever. You feel amazing, you’re amazing,” he grins, laughing breathlessly.

Matty feels like he’s drunk, intoxicated by everything about you. The way you look, the way you feel. Oh god. He’s never felt so good in his life. You’re just as bad, smiling up at him like he’s given you not only the moon but also all of the stars. Joined at the hips, intertwined at the soul. 

“You can move,” you whisper, the tinge of burning fading into something warm, something to thirst for. 

He nods above you, squeezing your hand like making a promise: I’ll take care of you. He begins to slowly, almost delicately roll his hips against you, the movement making you gasp for breath, gripping his shoulder tighter. Matty’s lashes flutter as he lets out a whimper, staring down at you with tenderness as he sets a gentle rhythm, allowing the both of you to ease into the deep intimacy. It’s almost an out-of-body experience for Matty, watching you below him, his hazy vision creating a sort of aura around you.

“You’re… you’re doing so good. You look so pretty. Made for me,” he gasps, barely stringing together coherent sentences between rocks of his hips. 

Matty’s thrusts are shallow despite how restless he’s growing, practically overheating above you. He continues to murmur about how good and tight you feel, the praise spilling from his lips without much thought, simply pouring from his lungs as he gets lost in the overpowering feeling of you. 

“Ohh, fuck,” you murmur, a spike of heat rushing straight to your cunt, clenching around him as your nails rake down his back.

Matty’s hips stutter as the breath is stolen from his lungs, almost making a wheezing sound at the back of his throat. His skin erupts with goosebumps under your touch, your nails leaving a pleasurable sting in their wake. He gathers himself enough to speak. “Holy shit. C-can you do that again?” he stammers, feeling like every nerve of his body is firing at once.

A hazy smile spreads across your lips as you clench around him again, feeling him twitch within your taut walls. Matty doesn’t just moan, he whines at the feeling, involuntarily bucking into you with more force, driving his cock deeper inside you. You pant at the entirely new feeling, your body lighting up with crackling sparks. Suddenly, the gingerly pace he’d set wasn’t nearly enough as liquid need fizzles in your bones. 

“Matty… more,” you moan, your eyes shining.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His eyes nearly roll back at every noise he pulls from you, the sounds only spurning him on further, driving his body forward into yours harder, faster. His head drops forward to your neck, burying his face there as he pants raggedly against your skin.

What had started out as gentle, loving gazes and polite rolls of hips has quickly become somewhat of a frenzy. The two of you hold each other close as you buck and rock and sweat, needing to help each other see stars to the sound of the bed's creeks. Matty shakes like a leaf as you wrap your legs around his pretty waist, drawing him in deeper. Before you can process it, he’s snaking his hand down between your glowing bodies to hastily swipe at your clit with his fingertips. You cry out as the pleasure courses through you, building even faster than before, rendering your brain fuzzy and wonderfully useless as you rock to meet his pistoning hips. The sound of skin on skin makes your face burn. 

“Please, please, love. I-I need– need to-” he babbles pathetically, desperation radiating off of him, “I-I’m not gonna last,” he shudders, a lilt of panic in his tone.

“It’s okay,” you pant, digging your nails into his back to make him groan, “Let it feel good, baby.”

Matty whines pitifully, his hips losing their rhythm entirely as he begins to thrust as quickly and frantically as he can, continuing to rub at your oversensitive bundle of nerves, setting a growing fire beneath your skin. “Y-yeah feels so good. So good,” he nods.

“Close, Matty,” you gasp, your back arching off of the plaid sheets as the flames curl and lick inside you. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna– gonna–” 

Matty can’t even finish his sentence, biting down on your shoulder as his body goes completely stiff for a moment, his hand clutching at yours even tighter before he shudders with his release, spilling into the condom. You follow closely on his heels into the depths of pleasure, trembling as your eyes roll back in your head, your walls spasming around Matty as he pulses inside of you. His head stays buried in the crook of your neck as he moans wantonly against your skin, his hips sporadically jerking against you as you both get lost in pleasure so great, you’re not sure how you ever went without it. 

The only sound that can be heard in Matty’s bedroom is heavy breathing. He stays collapsed on top of you, your legs dangling lazily over his hips as you hold each other, fingers still interlocked. Neither of you has said a word yet as you simply bask in the afterglow. 

Afterglow. You realize why it’s called that now. It feels like you’re shining from the inside out and you swear you can see the same light within him as you run your fingers through his damp hair. And in this moment, you and your boy are untouchable, nothing can reach you when he’s holding you this way. 

“I love you…” 

The words are faint, they ring hazily through your head, and for a moment you’re not sure if they were imagined. But he says it again, quietly, delicately, to be absorbed. 

“I love you.”

Your chest swells with warmth, it spreads from your heart to your fingertips and beyond. You swallow the lump in your throat, a grin spreading across your face so wide you think you might crack. 

“I love you too, Matty.”

Slowly, he lifts his head from where it rests, his eyes misty as he meets your gaze. He sniffles, rubbing his thumb against your hand with sweetness, the both of you acutely aware of how you’re still intertwined. 

“Oh god,” he mumbles, embarrassed as he rubs at his eyes. 

You coo at him, tucking some of his hair behind his ear before leaning in to tenderly peck his lips. You simply gaze into each other’s eyes, realizing how badly you want this to last. To beat the odds of young lovers. To scream in the face of getting older, of growing apart. But right now, this is enough. 

“I love you so much,” he whispers again, smiling like he’s trying out the words on his tongue, giddy at the way it feels.

This is more than enough. 

[toomuchracket]

girl of your dreams (d word matty x reader smut)

early days of the relationship, sneaky post-show hotel room sex. warnings for d word mention (duh), exactly one (1) spank, matty going down soft sound, unprotected sex (girly is on the pill tho), and creampies. enjoy <3

“yeah, yeah, goodnight,” matty smiles as his bandmates disappear into their respective rooms, entering his own when the locking mechanism clicks open. he's used to that sound now, used to quickly sliding the do not disturb hanger onto the handle, used to kicking his shoes off and placing the keycard near the door and yawning as he turns the corner into the bedroom proper.

what he's not used to, however, is seeing you there, sprawled out on his bed watching tv, wearing your glasses and a champagne-coloured satin nightgown that quite honestly makes him go weak in the knees.

he wants to get used to it, though. really, really wants to. he's determined to, actually. but first, he's determined to make up for being later to your rendezvous than planned. “hi, darling,” he smiles (how could he not, looking at you?), shrugging his jacket off en route to the bed. “i'm so sorry it took me so long to get here.”

“s'alright, baby, i understand. newcastle show and all,” you crawl to the end of the bed to meet him, and the way your tits swing as you do affects him almost as much as the pet name does; both of these things pale in comparison to the way you kiss him, though, all soft lips and quiet sighs, hand coming up to hold his face while you smile into him. when the kiss ends, you press your forehead to matty's, and it takes all his focus not to swoon. “your family are lovely, by the way. ‘specially your dad.”

matty laughs softly. “yeah, he was telling me how canny he thinks you are. says i should be paying you extra for the fact you're the one waking me up every morning.”

“oh, no, i like the kiss currency thing we've got,” you giggle, pressing one to his nose and sending his heart racing. “but were you really that much of a nightmare when you were little?”

“christ, yeah. he didn't detail it?”

“no, he was very sweet. maybe he was trying to make you seem cool,” your pretty face shifts into a smirk, and matty braces himself for the inevitable. “i mean, your family are all so concerned with when you plan on settling down - maybe he was trying to make you seem appealing to me.”

“take it you heard them asking me if i was seeing anyone, then?”

“yeah. was funny,” you peck his lips. “and your answer was very good.”

matty hums, thinking back to the there's someone, yeah, but she's too good for me so i'm playing it cool right now he'd placated his family with. which, to be honest, isn't a total lie. “good, good,” he gently lowers you so you're lying on the bed, crawling atop you and resting his arms on either side of your head; yours rest on his shoulders, pretty nails gently scratching at the back of his head the way he likes. “and was my dad successful?”

“at making you appeal to me? oh, yeah,” the playfulness in your eyes is addictive. “i’m really quite fond of you, matthew.”

god, the way you say his name! “feeling's mutual, gorgeous,” matty leans back, letting his calloused hands lightly skim up the sides of your torso. “love this outfit, by the way.”

“m'glad. bought it with you in mind,” the revelation sends matty reeling, and it's only worsened by what comes next. “dunno if you could call it an outfit, though.”

“why not?”

you smile, sweet as sugar. “because i'm not actually wearing anything else, darling.”

jesus christ. blood rushing in his ears, matty stutters out a response. “you serious?”

a nod, a suggestive bite of your own fingertip. “see for yourself.”

what a fool he would be to do otherwise. blood still pumping in his ears, and travelling more towards his trousers by the nanosecond, matty drags himself down your body and settles himself on the bed between your - fucking gorgeous - legs. with something almost resembling trepidation, he slowly pushes the silk up your thighs, jaw dropping in a groan as he takes in the enticing wetness pooling between them on your cunt. “fucking hell, sweetheart,” he moans, hand tracing up your slit and circling your clit as if on instinct, making you jerk with a whine and his dick jump as a result. when he brings his fingers to his lips and the delectable tang of you hits his tongue, matty's necessary next step becomes crystal clear. “please, please let me eat you out.”

your reply nearly makes him cum there and then - another thing matty's still unused to is the new nickname you've been trying out together, but it isn't half fucking incredible. “yes, daddy.”

matty thinks he breathed out a “thank you” as soon as the words left your lips, but he can't be sure; the only thing he can focus on is getting his mouth on you, licking upwards to your clit before wrapping his lips around the bundle of nerves and flicking over it with the tip of his tongue, just the way he was elated to discover you like. he can't help but moan into you when he hears your little whimper of “oh, just like that, yeah”, smiling when you moan louder in response and clamp your thighs around his head - a second later, when realisation seems to hit, you go to loosen your grip with a half-whined “m'sorry, daddy”, but matty just shakes his head (which has you moaning again as his tongue slices across your clit) and shuffles himself around so he can wrap his arms around your thighs and keep them there. not out of masochism - well, part of it is - but more out of the fact that your thighs locked around his head is proof that this is really happening, and he isn't just dreaming about going down on you like he did for months after first meeting you. 

of course, reality is so much better than those dreams: matty could never have imagined how good you actually taste when he's licking into you with nothing short of desperation, or how beautiful you look when you're all fucked-out, or the way your voice goes all shaky when you're about to cum. which, incidentally, is what's happening now - “m'close, daddy, m'so fucking close. wanna cum, please, please let me cum!”

seems as good a time as any for matty to take a breath, he thinks. pulling away from you just long enough to take in a lungful or air, he nods. “cum, princess.”

with a dazed smile so beautiful it breaks his heart a little bit, and a breathy “thank you”, you obey, body tensing and releasing a final time, accompanied by shaking limbs and broken whimpers of his name and his nickname and god only knows what else. matty kisses your inner thigh, resting his head on it and letting you come back down to earth in your own time; he likes watching you like this, anyway, worn-out from pleasure and a little bit haphazard. your hair's a mess, your glasses are askew (he's also far more into them than he initially thought, to be honest), and your nightgown is really quite crinkled, but he can practically feel the adoration for you emanating from himself. 

you're so beautiful. and you're his. he still can't quite believe it's not a dream.

you rake a hand through his sweaty curls, and he's reminded that this is all real. he kisses your thigh again, and you giggle. “hi.”

“hi, darling,” matty rubs a little loveheart on your thigh with his thumb. “how you feeling?”

“so good. thank you, gorgeous,” you smile, while matty's cheeks burn at the compliment. “how are you?”

“i'm good, angel, i'm really good.”

“tired at all?”

he shakes his head. “not really. but we can go to sleep now if you want,” he smirks when you shake your head enthusiastically. “no? there's something else you wanna stay up for… princess?”

you bite your lip, nodding. he huffs out a laugh. “need you to tell me what it is so we can do it, sweet girl. come on,” he pulls himself up slowly, pressing kisses up your stomach and resting his head on your tits. “tell daddy what you want.”

“i - oh, fuck,” you whimper as matty tugs down the top of your dress and mouths at your nipple. “want- want you to fuck me, daddy. please.”

he knew it was coming, and yet matty still feels heat trickle down his chest right to his dick when you speak. “good girl. and how do you want to be fucked, princess?”

“in front of the mirror,” your voice is clear, sure, sexy; it crumbles when you talk again, but matty thinks your secret desire is even hotter. “wanna watch.”

the next few minutes are a blur to matty, which he reckons he would put down to some weird primitive horny instinct to just fuck you as soon as he can. he remembers kissing you, but nothing about how he got you on your hands and knees before the mirror or undressed himself; post-kiss, the only thing he can focus on is the feeling of inching inside your soaked cunt, watching your eyes roll back into your head, listening to the choked moan that leaves your kiss-bitten lips as he bottoms out inside you with a murmured “fuck”. he kisses your shoulder, smiling into your summer-scented skin at the way you giggle deliriously. “feel so good around me, baby. you want me to fuck you now?”

“please,” your jaw slackens as matty starts to move his hips; when he speeds up, groaning at how wet you are, how brain-meltingly tight, you whimper, and he has to force himself not to cum then and there. “daddy…”

“i know, sweetheart, i know. doing so well for me,” matty coos, eyes fixated on the reflection of your tits bouncing in the genuinely most perfect way with every thrust. christ, he's really lucked out with you, hasn't he? sweet, smart, fucking gorgeous… he's punching well above his weight. “my beautiful girl. want me to get you off again, princess?”

you nod, whimpering when his hand meets your asscheek; as he rubs the stinging skin, matty sighs. “words, baby, come on.”

“sorry, daddy. yes please.”

he leans forward to kiss the nape of your neck, moving to whisper in your ear. “good girl.”

his hips speed up, so much so that he can already feel the muscle aches he'll wake up with tomorrow. but it's more than worth it to see you like this, to make you like this, wanton and writhing and whining every time your bodies meet; the way you're beginning to clench around him in the way matty's learned is a sign that you're about to cum spurs him on, too, desperate to get you off and chase his own release. “c'mon, princess,” he pants, gripping your hips as tight as possible to keep up momentum. “need you to cum for me, yeah? cum, and i'll fill you up. know you fucking love it when i do that, don't you? love being a good girl for daddy.”

“yeah,” comes the broken cry in response. your cheeks are stained with mascara tears, streaming from your hazy eyes, and your whole body appears to be shaking - suddenly, it tenses, and matty hisses at the feeling of you vice-tight around his dick. “m'cumming, oh fuck, fuck!”

there's an influx of warmth and wetness around him, and matty can't help but follow in your footsteps. “shit, me too,” he moans, brain foggy but body still slamming into yours, syncopated now; he clings to you as he cums, eyes rolling back into his head as he finishes deep inside your cunt. your arms give out, and matty follows your fall onto the bed, draping himself over you without pulling out and pressing his lips to the back of your neck. “jesus christ, princess, you're so good,” he kisses your cheek when you giggle, a sweetness incongruous with the fact he can feel his cum dripping out of you. “y'alright?”

“yeah,” you turn to catch his lips with yours, a tender kiss that ends with you looking at him so adoringly he almost can't take it. “thank you, baby.”

“anytime. s'my pleasure. and yours, i s'pose.”

“you're so silly.”

“and you're into it.”

“i am, yeah,” you smile, and matty swears he can feel butterflies in his stomach. “i'm just very into you.”

“i feel the same about you,” matty strokes your hair, yawning. “shall we shower? or d'you wanna stay like this for a bit, darling?”

you beam. “wanna stay like this forever, matty. but,” you wink. “given that we're both working tomorrow, maybe we should limit it to, let's say, five minutes of this before we shower?”

god, he's so obsessed with you. “whatever you want, my girl.”

[whimsicalpolitical]

Perfect - Matty Healy

sweet sweet aftercare ‘cause of this ask

content warning: 18+ mdni, p in v, kinda rough matty in the beginning, dirty talk, spanking, aftercare

You know right then and there, nothing you will ever experience for the rest of your life will feel as good as the drag of his cock inside you. You feel every ridge, every vein, every twitch.

You feel like you lose consciousness for a second, but regain it with the brutal snap of his hips. Very quickly he finds a pace he likes and sticks with it.

You scream out on instinct, and seconds later you are met with his hand across your mouth.

"Be fuckin' quiet." Matty snaps. He pulls you up by your shoulders, your back against his front. You'd never been in this position before, his cock is so deep inside you, you are seeing stars. You are whining against his hand and letting him use you like a toy. He is splitting you open and you fucking love it.

“Moan ‘round my hand all you want, m’ gonna fucking use you.”

"Shit, this is my perfect pussy." He says, his pace increasing as you feel the head of him brush something deep inside of you. You feel impossibly full, pleasure coursing through every vein of your body just letting him take you in any way he needs.

You squirm around him, trying to move a bit, to make you both feel better.

You feel a harsh slap on your ass next.

“Quit your fuckin’ brat shit.”

A whine slips from your lips, it’s been to long since you’ve felt his kiss. “Matty.”

“What? Hm?” He asks, “tell me your color.”

“Yellow- green-ish.”

You so badly want him close, to feel his lips on yours, kiss until your lips are red and wet from his tongue.

“What d’you need, darlin’?”

“Kiss.”

Matty chuckles and pulls your hair until your head is falling back. He collides his lips with yours. It’s an open mouth kiss, his hips not stilling but moving even more. You moan into his mouth as he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip.

“Alright?”

You nod before letting your head fall back down.

“God, my good girl, s’ it green now?”

“Yes, yes, all green.”

“S’ all it takes, a kiss from me? Pathetic.”

That makes your eyes roll back in your head. You love when he humiliates you.

"You’re a slut f’me, only f’me, understand?”

“Only f-for you.”

The white hot pleasure rolls inside of you, sparking every where it can like a frayed wire and igniting fires inside of you. He strucks down on your ass, leaving a red mark.

“That’s right.”

“Oh fuck- matty.”

He sneaks a hand around you and rubs your clit in circles, and relishes in your bitten back moans and cries for his name being muted by the roughness of his hand. He feels your muscles going limp underneath him. He feels you squeezing him tightly.

"You gonna cum baby? Go ahead, soak my cock." His voice just above a whisper.

You soak his stomach, his thighs, yourself, cumming all over him but his pace doesn’t relent. He's using you. Sliding in and out while holding your body upright against him. He's ruining you even more than before, the sound of your wetness squelching with the crack of his hips. You feel like you are going to die, in the best way. If you died right now with his cock inside of you, it wouldn't be too bad.

You feel his hips falter, and you know he is close.

The moans he is choking back sound like heaven. The whisper of your name on his lips does something cynical to you.

"Where d’you want it, love? Gonna let me fill you up? Mark you as mine?” He manages.

"In. Inside. Need to feel it, Matty, mark me.”

Not even a second later you feel it pour through you, the warmth of it filling up your cunt and dripping out of your hole. He pulls out and watched himself drip out of you. It is pornographic. He runs the tip of his cock through your folds to push it back inside you, gasping when it hits your swollen clit.

“Matty-“ you whine, the soreness already starting to get you to feel a bit shit.

“You should see yourself, all filled up with my cum, s’perfect.” He leans down to kiss your lower back, signalizing you that it’s fine to turn around and drop down against the mattress. “You’re perfect.”

You smile sleepily and lay down on the blanket, too exhausted to wrap the blanket around you and you already know he’s going to clean you up.

“Be a good girl now and stay awake.”

“Mhm.”

You sound displeased and that’s because your behind is much more sorer then any other body part. It stings and that’s why you try to find a comfortable position.

Matty stands at the edge of the bed putting on a white Calvin Klein boxer.

“baby, take it easy, and lay on your stomach. I’m gonna take care of you.”

His voice is more distant.

“Where are you going?” You ask, a little bit panic in your voice as if he didn’t just tell you he’s going to take care of you.

“Just going to the bathroom, I’m gonna grab a few things, I’ll be right back, love, don’t worry.”

“No, please,” you plead.

“Love,” Matty begins to walk towards the bed, “have to clean you up.”

“Later, matt,” you sound drowsy with your eyes closed and your hands trying to reach Matty’s body.

Matty hums and lays down on the bed, your head falls onto his chest and even though he’s now next to you, you’re still hurt. He, of course, notices.

He loops his arm around your leg pulling it over his own, his hand then travels to your red ass rubbing slow circles on your skin.

You relax under his touch, your breathing slowing down.

“That’s it, my love,” he whispers, “you’re so perfect, d’you know that? You always do so well for me.”

You don’t answer, too tired to move or talk.

“Baby, don’t fall asleep, you have to use the toilet and I have to clean you up.”

You shake your head and smile, “kiss me first?”

“Of course,” he laughs.

He leans down more, aware of the fact that you’re physically exhausted, breaking his neck while doing so. But he doesn’t care the second your lips intertwine with his. You don’t have much strength to kiss him as deeply as you do most of the time, but he doesn’t care at all.

“How about a quick shower?” He asks.

This time you don't try to speak. Your tongue is like a lead weight in your mouth and your brain is running on dial-up. The best you can do is to cling to him, hiding your face in the curve of his neck and hoping he'll understand that your firm hold on him is a request for him to tighten his own arms around you, until you're sure you won't float away. He reciprocates and it makes you feel more secure immediately.

"Can you answer me?" He murmurs, all sweet solicitation, lips brushing the top of your head in this new airtight position.

"Baby. I wanna hear your voice."

"Mhm," you manage.

Matty rewards you by rubbing your back in slow circles. His hand feels nice on your bare skin. The way you love him is too big for words. It could make you cry.

"Now?”

You shake your head and try to ignore the ache in your bones when you can't seem to get him close enough.

"Just want to stay here.”

“I know, we really need to get up now, though.”

Matty thumbs away a few stray tears, purely from pleasure, that have fallen down your cheeks. Your eyes are still a little clouded.

"c'mon, darling," Matty snakes an arm around your waist to pull you flush to him. You keep your head in the crook of his neck as he helps you to your feet and into the bathroom.

He sets you down onto the counter while he’s prepping everything, laying the softest towels down, his sweater and new panties for you.

He turns the shower on, waiting a bit until it’s warm enough. Your eyes are still a little clouded and Matty notices almost immediately.

"feeling okay?" he kisses your cheek, then your forehead, and finally your lips.

You nod, face flushing. "more than okay." Matty hums.

Matty takes his time with you in the shower. he makes sure the water is just the right temperature before he pulls you in.

His hands are soft as they wash and massage your scalp. He’s mindful of your sensitivity and when you're done, he wraps you up in a big fluffy white towel.

“What can I get you?” Matty asks.

“Bed,” you mumble, tiredness finally taking over. “But also m’ cold.”

"You're cold?" He asks and you answer him with a nod.

Earlier matty was wearing a basic white button shirt with an elegant wool sweater draped over it. You told him at least ten times of how nice you think the sweater looks.

Matty kisses your forehead. He squeezes your hip and turns around to lift his sweater off a little shelf..

"Arms up," matty instructs gently.

You do as you're told, the soft material concealing your body in the best way possible. The smile on your face tells Matty he made the right choice.

He then slides your underwear over your legs and a few seconds later you finally make it back to bed.

Matty helps you before sliding in after you. You promptly curl into Matty’s side.

“Wasn’t too rough with you, was I?”

You shake your head and lean up to kiss the corner of his mouth, “nah, you’re perfect. Always.”

He massages your skin gently, over all the places he had been a little rough earlier, gentle fingers pressing against your hips and thighs.

“You’re perfect, sweet girl.”

Locking eyes with him, you then utter in utmost adoration, “I love you so much,” craning up to kiss his lips softly. 

“I love you, I love you,” he murmurs between pecks.

“Let’s get some sleep now and then we can watch the ridiculous show you like s’much.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” you roll your eyes.

“Whatever you say.”

He snuggles in behind you, wrapping his arms around your torso much like he had when he was in the bath with you. You turn around to face him one last time to press a kiss to his lips before nuzzling into his chest. His arms shift to move around your shoulders and waist, your leg thrown over one of his own.

“Sleep well, my love.”

Having having your breathing lull him to sleep is a tune he will never get tired of playing. Nights like these, cuddled up with one another, safe in each other's grasp, are the reason he knows you’re the right one.

You want to spend the rest of your life’s together.

[didyoulookforme]

need you tonight

part of give me a moment (aka stylist au as briefly described in this tag)

warning: 18+, smut. probably grammatical errors, typos.

au masterlist here

-----

“sorry—‘m sorry”

you’re pretty sure those are some of the only words that stumble past his lips as you go down on him. perhaps an apology for his ring getting tangled in your hair, trying to keep you close. but to be honest, the more cynical part of you hopes it's pure regret for fucking someone else just hours before.

it was not strange for you to crave a nicotine hit at this time, more often than not stepping out the bus to smoke a cigarette or two prior to calling it a night, that first inhale always making your head buzz a little as the all-too-familiar warmth runs through your limbs, a much welcome sensation to try leave the tiredness behind.

every day was like clockwork. bus arrives at the venue. stage and lighting are assembled. band soundchecks. you have a quick dinner. then it's time for him. after all, it's what you're here to do, work as matty's own personal stylist during the tour.

you had no clue luck had finally struck when you opened those dms earlier this year.

(13:43) trumanblack: hey (13:43) trumanblack: i found your profile via my friend (13:44) trumanblack: i really like your style n you look pretty cool

(13:58) trumanblack: sorry if this sounds creepy. promise i'm a real human tho (13:58) trumanblack: x

you didn’t recognize him. however from a swift scroll through the feed, you gathered that his name was matty. apparently the front man of a seemingly popular band with a fanbase head-over-heels lusting for them.

mostly him, though.

you couldn't help but gaze at his lanky frame and pale skin adorned with ink, zooming in on certain posts to try decipher what they were. he definitely had a point of view when it came to dressing himself—sometimes a bit messy and chaotic, but for the most part pleasing to the eye, a quality you appreciated given your line of work. his seemingly playful demeanour across photos made it seem like he was perhaps younger than you, this time a google search confirming that, in fact, he was born three years later. april 1989.

countless press photos appeared under his name and you spent the next half hour swiping back and forth between articles, finding him intriguing enough and giving you the surge of confidence to respond.

and that's basically why you're leaning against this tour bus now. the friendly banter with a stranger led you to travel the world and do what you enjoy most. the fancy clothes. the colourful glitz. the wild after parties. this stuff that you always dreamed about was somehow now your own reality that you often had to pinch yourself to ensure you weren't just passed out cold on the sofa back home.

however, this almost too good to be true gig also led you to fall for a guy, the same one whose collar you straighten almost every night.

the most fucking cliché story. some assistant falling for her boss just months after being hired. it actually makes you feel sickeningly stupid, embarrassed. still you can't seem to stop digging yourself deeper into a hole with every hour you spend caring for him, not being made any better by matty being nothing but affectionate towards you behind closed doors.

you know he’s the reason your nicotine addiction has increased tenfold, always finding yourself alone at this hour enveloped in smoke, part of you still wanting to pretend you do so to numb out the sleepless nights. took you a while to finally admit you did it as an attempt to cloud out any thought of him.

tonight’s really no different.

you’re not sure how much time has passed, but it’s enough for the cold to start settling on your skin. perhaps it’s your queue to stop and go back in. you snub out your cigarette, watching the red embers fade just as a car rounds the corner. it halts to a stop only a few meters away, and you catch the faint sound of a door creaking open, followed by the murmur of voices filling the night air.

then you hear it. that unmistakable high pitched laugh that can pull you awake in a single second. him.

and, of course. you immediately know why.

you’d learned pretty early on this was a common end to the routine: matty picks up a girl at the gig, goes fucks her somewhere, and has her drop him off right after.

reminds you of the number of red and purple bruises you often cover up before his show. it wasn't rocket science figuring out the cause, yet he never really addresses it, choosing silence and averting his gaze as your fingertips dab foundation on tender skin, temporarily hiding any remains of nights prior.

you didn't even notice your eyes had closed. not until the car door slams shut, jerking them open just in time to see him blow a kiss in her direction. your heart fractures at the sweet gesture, but only hurts for a second before he's walking towards you, his stupid wide grin mending it better.

"didn't expect to see you out here.”

open button-up untucked. blazer over his shoulder. dark curls frizzy and disheveled. everything making it crystal clear he's just slept with someone else and still not you.

"only making sure you make it back alright so i can tuck you in." of course, you wish that were the case.

it's only a few seconds until he settles next to you, leaning over to kiss your cheek. soft lips gently brushing against your skin. the way he always greets you—but only when no one's watching.

"aren't you sweet, then?"

"trying my best." given the circumstances, it's pretty much all you can do.

he pulls out his beat-up cigarette box, flicking it open and offering you one. you decline, showing him the smothered tip of your own before finally tossing it aside.

"guess it must've been a pretty good time today," you lick the pad of your thumb before rubbing a lipstick mark off his jaw. it’s always ruby red or deep maroon. those same tones which he'll compliment you on. a similar shade you left on his lips the only time your mouth had been on his.

you finish cleaning the stains off his skin, matty murmuring a soft ‘thank you’ for having done so. it’s your turn to kiss his temple. “‘tis my job, you know? making sure you look good.” you should be mad, upset, have some sort of negative emotion. instead, you can’t help but have your heart intermittently flutter when he returns a sheepish smile, his arm wrapping around your shoulders to pull you close.

neither of you say much, but that’s alright. you rest your head on the crook of his neck, noticing how nice it feels. how nice he feels. you see the chipped nail polish on his fingers. the wrinkled fabric of his flowered shirt. the dark hair down his torso. the unbuckled belt at his waist. it’s only then that jealousy creeps itself back in and suddenly your shoes seem all that more interesting than the man standing by your side.

"why do you do it, matty?" the sweetness of your voice never fails to mask the envy you actually feel. or at least you hope it does.

"hmm?"

"the sleeping around.” you finally lift your head to look at him, surprised that his pretty eyes were already on you. the toothy smirk is gone, though, replaced by a thin, expressionless line at his lips. he doesn’t owe you an explanation. you know that. thus why you’re surprised when he actually starts to talk.

"dunno, really.” he lights up another cigarette and you notice as he gets lost in his mind. “i mean, it’s kinda difficult to say no to sex or a blowjob when they’re literally throwing themselves at you.” he seemingly tries to joke, but you don’t have time for funny right at this moment.

instead you wonder if it’s actually that easy.

“let me do it, then.”

“so—sorry?” he chokes mid-drag.

“let me give you a blowjob just like those other girls do. just like she did,” you point at the ghost of that green car from before, “ just tonight.”

it’s like his face cannot figure out which expression to land on, flipping between confusion, surprise, and something else that reads between need and desire.

“what the fuck?” his voice is shaky and it stings when he pushes you aside, yet, he doesn’t try hard to put much distance between you two so it’s not difficult to invade his space, standing right in front of him until your face is a breath away from his. large, calloused hands grasp your shoulders tight, halting you from inching closer.

“don’t.”

“what’s the difference between them and myself, then?” seems like a simple enough question to you. “why can they have you and not me?”

but he has no answer, at least not one that he can properly voice. his hold on you starts to lessen, perhaps giving you some permission to let you do whatever you want.

you bring your hands up to his and pull them away, kissing his knuckles before placing them on your waist. an almost incoherent ‘fuck’ leaves his lips, and, as if on cue, his head falls back willingly, giving you the space to kiss his neck. the faint smell of her still on him.

“please let me,” you whisper against his skin.

it’s not even a question at this point.

his fingers dig into your hips as you look at him once more, now noticing a mixture of lust and care in those almond coloured eyes. for a minute there, you get lost in them, admiring how his pupils dilate when your hands find the button of his pants, and how they shrink back as you finally undo the zipper. you don’t want to waste any more time—you’ve already waited too long—so you slide your palm down his pants to grab his half-hard cock, his eyes instantly rolling to the back of his head when you wrap your fingers around him.

“is this okay?”

you take the buck of his hips as a confirmation, giving you the courage to spread the precum along his length. he feels nice. having him in your hand seems just right and you only hope that he won’t regret this when he wakes up next morning in bed.

tonight is your turn to suck on the skin alongside his jaw, the thought of having to cover your own marks making you smile.

“fuck, baby.”

you’re not sure if he even noticed that sweet name leave his mouth, but you like the sound of it, and it’s all it takes for you to drop to your knees, dragging his pants and boxers down just enough to pull out his dick.

you look up at him once more, his left hand coming to tangle on your head, his other loosely holding his cigarette, almost done and fully forgotten. you kiss his tip, your gaze still not leaving his, thoroughly enjoying yourself as he bites his bottom lip each time your thumb hits that spot under the head of his cock. his scent is almost too much to bear so you take him in one go, feeling his cock twitch inside your mouth. it doesn’t take long before he’s fully hard and hitting the back of your throat.

the plastic taste of latex is still on his skin. a sad reminder that you weren’t his first tonight. that maybe you are an afterthought. just another girl who he uses to make himself come. but at least it means you get to have him even if it’s just this one time.

matty. that’s all that’s on your mind. once again. somewhat difficult to not think about him when you’re sucking him off, those heavenly sounds coming from his mouth making your own slick drip down your leg.

you pull away to catch your breath, using your hand to keep stroking him, pleasantly surprised when he pulls on your hair each time your red fingernails graze the underside of his cock. you do it again and again until he breaks and fucks your hand, apologizing for not being able to help himself. it’s a sight you’ll commit to memory as long as you’re alive.

now that you’ve had a taste, it’s only so long you can go without having your lips around him. and that’s what you do, take him again, hands urging his hips to fuck your mouth. to fuck himself senseless in the hopes that you’ll be the one he turns to when he needs somebody else. he doesn’t deny your request, throwing away the wasted cigarette to guide you, setting a pace that allows him to stay steady on his feet.

purely drunk on him, you're barely aware when his phone vibrates in his pocket, matty muttering 'sorry' before grabbing and letting it drop onto the grass at your side. nosiness always gets the best of you, so you can't help but glance down, catching sight of a text from an unsaved number asking if he could fuck her again tomorrow.

you feel his hips falter. he knows you've seen it.

“’m sorry.”

this time it's a mix between a cry and a whimper. perhaps he did feel bad. perhaps some part of him did care about you in the way that you needed him to.

you reach back to place your hand on top of his, making him push your head further into him, to thrust into you until tears pool at your lashes just as he spills hard and fast down your throat. his taste overtakes every cell of your being as you swallow, feeling him soften against your tongue before you reluctantly pull away.

you didn’t even realize your knees were so sore until you stand up, not wasting a second to ask him is he's going to see her again the following night.

"do you want me to?" his thumb wipes away some of his cum off the corner of your lip. you reach out to suck it, slowly shaking your head in response.

he laughs nervously as his mouth clashes against yours, stealing both the air from your lungs. this wasn't the first time you’d kissed, but this wasn’t like before. the way he quietly moans against your lips. the softness of his fingers resting on your face. the crinkle at the corner of his eyes when he pulls back.

"can i see you tomorrow, then?"

you could’ve sworn you heart stopped. can you truly believe those words after watching him leave you behind all those nights? the soft circles his thumbs draw on your skin do feel sincere, the reassurance you need to perhaps let him in, give him a chance even though you know it’s a slippery one.

it’s your turn to brush your thumb against his mouth, slowly pulling at the bottom lip and watching it bounce back up into place. you kiss him one last time before confirming 'okay', immediately turning to finally head back in. not wanting to linger for too long in case he changes his mind.

you catch his reflection on the mirror, noticing as he tucks himself in, and it’s that slight smile on his face which keeps you awake for hours on end.

-----

for this lovely anon here. thank you for the inspo :) <3

[ughgoaway]

casual

It's hard being casual                                                                                                                               When my favourite bra lives in your dresser

a fic inspired by Chappell Roan's casual; snippet below the cut. 18+, 1.5k.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

Hot bodies press against you as you weave through the house, spilt beer making your skin sticky as more and more people carelessly dance with drinks sloshing in their hands. A playlist you don't recognise fills the air, and whilst Matty might be hosting, you can tell the playlist is completely out of his control. The vaguely rhythmic pumping drum and bass overwhelming your senses isn't something you can see him listening to, but maybe you just don't know him as well as you hoped.

Your eyes dart around the hoard of people looking for him and then back to your phone, desperate to see those three dots pop up and for him to finally respond. He never does, though, and when you scroll back, you see message after message go unanswered, unless they're about hooking up, of course. Those always get a response within minutes, which should be flattering, but seeing it laid out in front of you instead leaves a hollowed ache in your chest.

You know what you were signing up for the very first time his crisp white sheets got wrapped up between your thighs, sleeping with Matty Healy was a path well worn by girls before you, and not one of them had got a meaningful relationship out of it. More people have seen every inch of his skin than have ever seen his true personality, or maybe the faux rockstar cool guy act is who he really is, but you're not so convinced.

But that facade was all you needed. It's exactly why you started this in the first place. Misplaced anger towards your ex suddenly became you ripping a condom open with your teeth and sinking down on the dick of a man you'd spoken to maybe 5 times.

But that next morning, after he raised his eyebrows and asked if he wanted to go again, you ignored that screaming head in your voice to stay away and instead slid into his lap and put your lips on his.

Here you are now 4 months later, and your relationship is… something.  Matty would say it's completely casual. it's fun, low-commitment sex and nothing more. And when he says that, you nod and agree, immediately going for his belt to try and get those words out of your mind. And usually, within 30 seconds, with his hand in your hair and his dick in your mouth, it's pretty easy to forget. But it's times like this you're rudely reminded. When he invites you to a party knowing you don't know anyone and leaves you stranded, the truth comes crashing back into your head, impossible to ignore.

Some faces that glide past you feel familiar, but when a body crashes into yours and you look up at their face, it's the first one you really recognise. 

“George! Thank god, where’s Matty? he won’t answer my text” You try to sound blasé when you ask, acting how you think you should, running the gone girl “cool girl” monologue in your head. When George scrunches his face in confusion, you think he's seen right through your act, but what comes out of his mouth is worse than any transparent ploy he could've seen through.

“Sorry, do I know you?” George asked, nervously running his hand over his neck and looking down at you with squinted eyes. Suddenly, it feels like you've been shot in the chest, blood covering your clothes and hands. If you looked down right now, you swear they'd be stained red. But that's not very chill girl of you, so you giggle nervously and try and hide the crimson that covers you.

“Oh, sorry. I’m y/n. Has Matty ever mentioned me?” You giggle awkwardly as you speak, silently crushing the plastic cup of cheap beer that was forced into your hands as soon as you passed the threshold. 

Finally, after time dragged on for about 10 seconds longer than you'd like, a flicker of realisation fills George's eyes, and you expect an explanation. Maybe he's pissed, or high, or just not that good with faces. You convince yourself that there are a thousand reasons why Matty’s closest friend wouldn't know your face, but none of them match what falls from his lips.

“Oh yeahhhh. You're the girl Matty’s messing around with, right? The girl he fucked on the sofa at a party one time?” he drunkenly giggles, hiccupping halfway through his sentence.

Bang. The sound of a second gunshot fills your ears, and you swear you can feel the blood pouring again. He doesn't know it, he doesn't even know your name, but George's words felt like the eulogy at your funeral, as if he had just killed you and now he was sending you away. “The girl Matty is messing around with” not “Matty’s girlfriend”, or “Matty’s partner”, not even “Matty’s friend”, just the latest girl in his never-ending rotation.

Still, you smile even if you do feel yourself dying as you stand on the liquor-sodden carpet. “Yup. That's me… I guess. any idea where he is?” Even if you do speak through gritted teeth, George seems oblivious, quite easily directing you to Matty without a second thought.

“Uh last time I saw him was on the sofa in the front room, check there, maybe?” he shrugs, casting his eyes over your shoulder and smiling at someone. Well, it's nice to know he is capable of smiling, maybe he only does it with people who he actually knows, not people who he only kind of recognises for fucking his best friend.

“Yeah thanks, bye Geor-” Before you can even say a proper goodbye, he weaves through the crowd and shouts someone's name before tackling them in a hug. You wonder how he’d treat you if you were really Matty’s girlfriend. Would he cast you a smile and wrap you in a hug? Maybe you could have double dates with him as his girlfriend, then you'd know all Matty’s friends, the funny stories about him from childhood. 

You know the most intimate parts of Matty's body, the places that only your fingers brush, that you press kisses to. You know the tattoos that hide from everyone else. You've traced them with your tongue. But you don't know him. His favourite colour or movie, you don't know how his brain ticks, what his first kiss was, his first love, or if he's ever been in love.

He doesn't know anything about you either, but you think that's a blessing in disguise. If he asked if you'd ever been in love, you don't think you could lie. he'd see the lie in your eyes, swirling and fighting to leave your mouth in a way that sounded anyway believable. hed know that you are in love, right now. with him. No matter how thick you lay on the denial, there's only so much you can do to hide from your own thoughts.

So when you slip into the living room and see another girl on his lap with his hand around her waist, the third bullet of the night hits you, and this time you can't bring yourself to smile awkwardly and brush it off.

The blood won't stop. Each time his fingers stroke over her skin like they do on yours, you feel like you're dying. That any breath could be your last. The thump of the bass in your ears is replaced by your thumping heart, each beat permeating your skull. 

Thump. His hand pushes up her shirt, and his fingertips dance on her bare stomach. Thump. He throws his head back, laughing at something she says. Thump. He grips her hip and winks at her, pulling her deeper into his lap. Thump. She turns to face him. Thump. Her hand grips his cheek. Thump. He's kissing her. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Your heart won't stop racing, growing faster with each second. You watch his hand move from her waist to her neck, pressing his fingers into her skin the same way he does to you. Subconsciously, your hand goes up to your neck, brushing over the very places where you're sure those same fingertips left bruises two nights before. Slowly, her hand slides up to his hair, gripping his curls the way you know he loves. You watch his hips jump at the feeling. It makes you sick to your stomach, that once empty space fulling with dread and jealousy over a man who barely spared a thought for you.

Someone bumps your shoulder and suddenly the world comes back into colour, and you can hear the familiar beat of the shitty music, the shouting of some teenage boys as a random girl takes her top off, and the chatter of the people around you. You can breathe again. But he's still there, her tongue in his mouth and his hand cupping her cheek.

Fuck. you need a cigarette.

[wreckedandpolemic]

white and gold - matty healy

(mdni) in which you become both entangled and enamoured with your father's boss. 13007 words.

warnings (buckle up): 18+, problematic age gap, masturbation, corruption kink, slight exhibitionism, praise, degradation, heavy daddy kink, slight dumbification, unprotected sex, oral (f and m receiving), filth filth filth filth filth!

Your heels click against the tiled floor as you stroll across the lobby of your father’s office, giving a winning smile to the familiar security guard as he waves you through. Humming along to the song that plays over your headphones as the lift rises, you wonder idly why your father wanted to have lunch with you today; he had been oddly insistent that morning. The doors ding open and you step out into the office, fairly quiet at lunch hour. Men in suits mill around, their gazes catching on you and darting away so they can pretend their lurid thoughts aren’t painted plain as day on their faces.

Scanning the room, you don’t immediately spot the man you’re looking for. On a closer look, your father’s thinning hair and crisp suit are nowhere to be seen. Strange, again; he’s always here to meet you when he wants to take you out for lunch. Your searching gaze lands on a man heading for the lift, the sight of him arresting, practically rooting you to the spot. Greying curls haloed around a sharp, handsome face, lips plush red. A silver hoop shines in one of his ears, standing out against his dark hair. The designer sunglasses that sit across the bridge of his nose should be obnoxious, but he wears them louche and rakishly charming. He’s younger than your father, but not by much; probably nearing twice your age. You don’t recognise him — you know everyone who works for your father practically inside and out, and you’d never forget a face like his.  

Suddenly, he’s in front of you, and you’re blinking dumbly at the material of his expensive suit. “Are you lost?” he asks, his voice low and alluring, wrapping around you like a caress. The sunglasses block your view of his eyes, leaving you unfairly unable to tell whether he’s reacting to you the way you are to him.

You swallow thickly, fighting to find your voice. “No,” you say confidently. “Well… kinda, I guess?” you add with a laugh. “I’m looking for my dad.” You offer his name, and he nods in recognition.

“Ah— My fault, that. Sorry, love,” he says, voice softening on the final syllable in a way that has you biting the inside of your cheek to get your racing heartbeat under control. “Kept him late in a meeting.” You nod absently, distracted as his tongue flickers out to wet his lips and leaves them pink and glossy. Hopefully you aren’t wearing your thoughts too obviously on your face. “Matty,” he offers, holding out a hand.

You take it politely, surprised at the calluses scraping against your palm. He doesn’t look the type for hard work, the very shape of him insouciant, privilege scented on him under the smell of cigarettes and expensive cologne. The weight of his hand in yours as Matty holds your gaze for just a split-second too long feels charged, tension welling between you. After a beat, you give your name and Matty quirks an enigmatic half-smile that you just can’t get a read on. You wonder what kind of picture you’re painting for him; ribbons in your hair, skirt short enough to tease without any promise, socks biting into the flesh of your thighs. Your soft pastels boast innocence, a clean sweetness begging to be ruined where the sharp lines of him are rough around the edges, something dark tightly controlled under his easy smile. The pair of you are incongruous, yet symmetrical somehow, an artist’s rendition of impropriety.

The coolness in your palm when he lets go feels like a physical loss, your entranced gaze lingering on his face for another brief moment. Then he gives a cursory nod and strolls off, the spell breaking and leaving you stock-still as if you’ve been doused with a bucket of cold water. His name rolls around your head as you pick your way to your father’s office; Matty, Matty, Matty, like a litany, the concurrent chime of warning bells going unheard, or maybe just ignored.

Your father smiles up at you when you enter his office, getting up as if to hug you and stopping awkwardly short. He doesn’t know how to act around you, a consequence of the years of long hours and late nights that afford you your lifestyle but cost you a family. You make clumsy small-talk on the drive; he asks you how uni is going, you ask about work, he forgets the names of your friends, you remember the names of his. The same circles you always talk in. It’s never unpleasant, but always stiff, artificial.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to meet you,” he says once you’re seated in a quiet corner of your favourite restaurant. He remembered that about you, at least. “I was in a meeting that ran long.”

You try not to visibly perk up at the reminder of possibly the most gorgeous man you’ve ever met. “Oh, yeah,” you say, feigned casualness layered over your tone. “I met the guy you were with on his way out. Who was he? I don’t think I’ve seen him before.” Your father pauses briefly, and you wonder if you’ve laid it on too thick, showed too much interest. But you know your father couldn’t reconcile the idea of you being interested in one of his coworkers with the image he holds of you as his little girl.

He sits up straighter, adjusting his tie in the way he does because he thinks it’ll lend more gravity to his next words. “It was actually a very important meeting, or I wouldn’t have let it run as long as it did. It was with the VP of the company, Matthew Healy.” He nods self-importantly. “Very nice chap, honestly. I convinced him to allocate us more budget next quarter, which means that…”

You tune out the rest of his corporate jargon, letting the new information you’ve gleaned rattle around your brain. Vice fucking President. The scandal you’d cause selfishly thrills you more, because who could gainsay it, really? Sure, your father would have some choice words, but he’d keep them to himself in public for the sake of his job. You almost giggle picturing the vein that would throb in his forehead, and then remember yourself and focus back into the conversation right as your father finishes talking.

The waiter who has been hovering a tasteful distance away seizes the gap in conversation to take your order. You order without looking at the price, leaning casually back in the booth as you rattle off the name of the dish in perfect Italian. A few minutes later, the smooth, dark flavour of an espresso martini on your tongue, your father finally gets to the point.

He says your name seriously, levelling you with a look that’s laden with meaning over his drink. “I wanted to meet with you today to talk about something.” You nod uncertainly, unable to track where this is going. “Your last year at university is starting in September, and I’d like to know you have somewhere to go when you’re finished. Other people studying your course have been making industry connections and networking for years, and I’m concerned that you’ll be behind when you’re trying to get into work.”

You let him talk, even as you mentally roll your eyes. He’s showing care in one of the only ways he knows how, and you can’t really begrudge him that. Never mind that the idea of trudging to the office every day in a dull grey pantsuit and attending mergers and meetings for the rest of your life gives you the shivers. You open your mouth to bring this up, but pause when he continues. “I know you aren’t sure about using your degree, but there’s a dinner this weekend that I’d like you to come to. Just to see how everything works, show your face, start making yourself a name, hm?”

The refusal sits on the tip of your tongue, balancing there on instinct, but then you consider that this might be your only chance to see Matty again. Of course, he might not even be there, but it’s a risk you’re willing to take. Your thoughts haven’t strayed from him for more than five minutes since you met, he’s a nagging itch under your skin that you just can’t scratch, and you need him. “Okay,” you say, cutting your father off. He goes silent mid-spiel, having anticipated you taking more convincing than that. “Is it black-tie?”

Your father watches you curiously as you sip demurely at your cocktail. “Yes. I’m very happy you agreed,” he adds, the implicit question hanging heavy in the air between you.

With an airy shrug, you set down your glass. “Like you said, I’m not committing to anything. I just get to have a free fancy dinner, basically.” It’s a casual excuse, characteristic enough of you that your father couldn’t even begin to guess at your real motivation. The same waiter suddenly materialises with your food, and you dig in happily.

Over the course of your meal, your father explains the most important figures who’ll be attending, and Matty is among them, thank God. You try, subtly, to pry into his personal life, but come up fairly short; you can’t find a tasteful way to ask if he’s married, although it’s not unlikely, with a face like his. Once your father’s free hour has dried up, he drops you home and you slink off to your room and fall into your bed.

Guiltily, you pull up a private browsing tab on your phone and search matthew healy wife. A grin spreads as you find no results, wider when girlfriend turns up nothing but a string of articles about his latest breakup. Switching to image searching, you scroll through dozens of photographs of him, posed and smiling, this time missing the sunglasses and letting you admire his sweet brown eyes. Then you come across a photo of him giving the camera the eyes, your thighs clenching as he smoulders in a way that feels directed to you, a twin of the look he gave you earlier.

You let your eyes fall closed, your phone thudding against the pillow as your hand creeps under your waistband. The first brush at your clit buzzes bright up your spine, a pleased whine falling from your lips. Instinctively, you dig under your pillow for your vibrator, your other hand tugging your skirt and panties down your legs. You lay in just your blouse and socks, the barest hint of wetness beginning to pool between your thighs.

The sudden pulse of heat as you press the vibrator to your clit is almost too much, your body tensing at the sensation. Your hazy mind conjures up an image of Matty, his spectre watching you touch yourself for him. He’s on you in seconds, the ghost of his kiss almost tangible against your lips, the idea of his calloused fingers running over your skin so real they almost feel like a memory. Rocking your hips, you chase the pleasure that rolls over you, coiling low in your belly. You can almost hear Matty murmuring encouragement in your ear, telling you how pretty and good you are for him.

Body writhing against the sheets, a whimper of his name spills from your bitten lips, pleading as you rub tight circles into your clit. Molten pleasure drips down your spine, sticking in your lungs and melting against your ribs. The phantasm of Matty’s touch trails over you, his hands replacing yours as you thumb over your nipples, moaning at the soft spark of pleasure that flickers under your skin.

It’s not enough.

Your hands are too delicate, too far from the memory of thick veins and scraping callouses that your body craves. Still, you work diligently at yourself, falling into a familiar rhythm. Your motions are perfunctory now, an aside to the fantasy building behind your closed lids. You picture Matty’s sleazy smirk, heat in his gaze as he rubs at you, working you closer and closer, filthy words pouring from his lips. Pleasure burns under your skin, close and electric under the sheets.

The coil in your belly winds tighter and tighter until it finally snaps, ecstasy rippling through your limbs as you bite down hard to keep a scream at bay. Rolling your hips, you ride out your orgasm, chest heaving as you gasp for breath and twist your fingers in your sheets.

Your face begins to flame as the afterglow wanes, the image of Matty fading and leaving a column of mortification in its place. God, how are you supposed to look him in the eyes after this? Flinging your covers off with a groan, you corral your thoughts into shape and march into the shower. Hot water pounds between your shoulder blades and you scrub at your skin until it’s pink and tender; you still don’t feel clean. It feels, suddenly, like you’re wearing a scarlet letter, like the evidence of your depravity is scrawled over your body in bold, dripping ink.

Still, you can’t stand under the shower spray forever, and the endless slog of summer reading you have to do won’t wait for your sudden crisis to be over. Taking a seat at your desk, you crack open a textbook and force yourself to stare at it until the words stop swimming in front of your eyes and you can process their meaning. You type up notes with practised ease, almost automatic and scarcely retaining the information. A chill grips you as you remember that this might be the rest of your life. 

A self-indulgent fantasy drifts across your mind, and you snatch at it greedily, rewarding yourself for your work with an unjustified distraction. Is it so much to ask that you want a life of ease? To be spoiled and showered in affection, to have no expectations on you? Maybe that makes you a lazy brat, a typical, self-absorbed princess, but you’ve worked damn hard the last three years. At graduation, you’d have your pick of droning, selfsame corporations if that was what you wanted; you’d have no difficulty following your father’s footsteps, letting your own daughter trace yours.

Truthfully, your private desire is much harder. Men that run in your circles want a woman like you, superficially — from the same stock, with your own family money, barely old enough to know who you are. Under the surface, though, you know women like that. They’re your aunts, the mothers of friends and old boyfriends. Unfulfilled, wearing dead-eyed Stepfordian smiles, finding their only pinched joy in passing snide insults dressed up as compliments, laughing behind their hands when their victim du jour takes the bait. No, being one of those wives would be the only fate worse than spending your decades as a spinning cog.

Without your notice, the sun has sunk beyond the horizon, a moonbeam slanting through your curtains when you switch your desk lamp off. You slip between your sheets, clad in a thin nightdress and low-waisted underwear, the thoughts that circle your brain winding slower and slower until they slip away like a whirlpool draining from the sink.

The next morning, you really are planning on taking school seriously, in line at a coffee shop with scholarly intent before 9:30. Impossibly, though, a familiar head of curls is waiting in the queue only feet ahead of you. Your heartbeat speeds as you debate whether to speak to him, hands clammy with nerves at the sight of him. You step up to the counter to order, and Matty’s head whips around at the sound of your voice.

“Oh! Hello, love,” he grins, and you smile back, hoping you don’t look as nervous as you feel. “Hey, no, I got it,” he says as you pull out your phone to pay. Matty taps his card before you can even react, then leans forward to address the barista. “Can I get mine for here instead? Is that okay? Thanks,” he flashes a winning smile and your heart flutters.

“Thank you,” you say shyly, toying anxiously with the buttons of your cardigan. 

He waves a hand, his smile almost dizzying as he looks down at you. There’s a faint dusting of stubble over his jaw, and you have to force yourself not to get distracted by thoughts of it scraping over your skin. “Don’t worry about it. Always happy to do a pretty girl a favour.” Your knees almost buckle, heat flooding your cheeks as you swallow thickly. Thankfully, the barista calls your orders and Matty goes to collect them, giving you a second to catch your breath. “Is it okay if I come sit with you? Just realised I never asked.” He grins sheepishly, and you practically melt into a puddle. “Don’t wanna distract you if you’ve got work to do, or something.”

“God, no, of course,” you say, suddenly a little panicked at the idea of him leaving. “Feel free. I mean, if you have time,” you add, a last-ditch attempt to feign casualness as you slide into a booth.

Matty sits opposite, observing you with an inscrutable look on his face before he speaks. “I’ve got time. I’m the boss, darling, they can wait.”

Your thighs clench, the casual reminder of his status sending a shudder up your spine as you smile blithely. Neither of you speaks for a moment, both taking in the sight of each other, testing the boundaries of this thing blooming between you. “Do you make a habit of taking time out of your busy day to have coffee with girls?” you say, tone teasing to conceal that you’re truly curious about the answer.

He grins. “Like I said, I do whatever I like,” he says with a shrug. “If I wanted to, I don’t know, spend my morning having coffee with a pretty girl, well. Nobody would be surprised, let’s say.” It’s a non-answer, and you swallow down the jealousy that starts to rise in your throat.

“You keep calling me pretty…” you remark idly, pausing to sip delicately at your coffee before you speak. “I’m starting to think you might have an ulterior motive, Mr. Healy.” You tack on the title with a smirk, leaning forward in challenge.

Matty swallows, slightly unnerved for the first time. “I think you’re pretty,” he says simply. “Don’t have to have any motives. Unless you want me to,” he adds with a smirk.

“And if I do? What’s that say about you, sir? Chasing after a twenty-year-old girl? Quite inappropriate, wouldn’t you say?”

He chuckles softly, eyes darkening. A shock of heat sparks under your skin as he takes your hand, gaze searching. “Very,” Matty agrees lowly. “Good, sweet young girl like you shouldn’t be getting mixed up with me, angel.” Something in you flutters at the nickname, the way it rolls thoughtlessly off his tongue.

“I don’t have to be good,” you say, deliberately widening your eyes and biting your lip in a show of innocence. “I can be naughty. If you want.” You lean back and deliberately pop a button on your blouse, a hint of pink lace peeking out from the gap in your shirt.

Matty tips his head back, nostrils flaring as he inhales deeply, eyes closed and trying to compose himself. “What am I going to do with you?” he mutters, more to himself, unable to drag his gaze up from the sliver of exposed skin.

“You’ll just have to keep playing and find out,” you smirk, purposefully leaning forward as you stand to give him a deliberate eyeful. “Have a nice day, Mr. Healy. Thank you for the coffee.” His gaze burns hot into your back as you walk away, and you make a conscious effort not to look back. You’re slightly annoyed as you wander down the street — that cafe is your favourite study spot, and you’ve effectively handed it away. You’ll never be able to set foot in there without remembering Matty’s smirk, his heavy gaze, the feeling of his hand over yours.

So, despite your best intentions, you find yourself spending the morning dipping in and out of stores instead, smiling blithely as your bank account dwindles. In the end, your evening winds up the same as yesterday, mindlessly copying up text without absorbing any of the information. You’re gonna kick yourself so hard when you have to use these notes to take an exam. Giving up, you shower and get into bed, shutting your phone off to sleep at around midnight.

When you stir, you know acutely that you’re dreaming. The bed is your own, the man sharing it is not. “Morning,” Matty says, in a low, sleep-thick voice that seems so real you can scarcely believe your mind conjured it up. He kisses your nose, your cheek, the hollow of your throat, but never your lips, as if your subconscious is saving the memory for the real thing.

“Hi,” you giggle, savouring the heat of his body against yours, willing yourself still for fear of the barest shift ruining your dreamscape. Matty’s hands run over you, one taking a firm hold of your ass, the other pinching gently at your nipple.

You whimper, and he gives a mocking pout. “Needy, hm?” You nod, eyes wide and pleading, and he cups your pussy, your hips rolling as you chase your pleasure against his hand. Arousal drips out of you, soaking your panties as Matty grinds the heel of his palm against your clit. Your head swims in pleasure, distracted and flailing as the dream blurs around you. Whining, you try desperately to grasp onto the vestiges, convinced that one last touch would have brought you there.

Eyes twitching open, morning light slants through the crack in your curtains, a gentle kiss over your sweat-slick skin. Embarrassingly, like you’re a hormonal adolescent again, there’s a throw pillow wedged between your legs, desire soaking into it through your ruined panties. An experimental thrust of your hips sends a scattered, delicious burst of pleasure up your spine, but you refuse to indulge yourself, already humiliated without feeling that sudden, crushing guilt again.

Once again, you force yourself under a punishingly hot shower, and once again, you can’t scrub yourself free of the sin. It becomes something of a routine; three more nights you dream of him, and three more mornings you try your hardest to melt the flesh off your bones in an effort to forget. The fourth night, the day before you’ll see him again, your sleep is mercifully dreamless, though you still wake with him on your mind. You stand in front of your wardrobe, hands balanced on your hips as your gaze darts between two dresses.

You need to be stunning, fuckable in a way that caters to Matty’s tastes perfectly. The amount of time you’ve spent scrolling through pictures of him with old girlfriends would surely be impressive if it wasn’t embarrassing, but it’s helped you narrow your choices down to two options. There’s a wine-red number, the thigh slit so high it practically bares your ass and the neckline plunging almost to indecency — it’s reminiscent of how his last girlfriend dressed, simple, dark elegance, deep hues paired with bold, striking makeup. Then, there’s a floor-length, pastel-pink silk gown, evidence of the virtue you’ll pretend to possess until you can show him just how dirty you can be.

The second dress speaks to you, more similar both to your own style and that of the youngest girl he’s ever dated. She was still older than you, though, you think wryly, four years ago twenty-three to his thirty. That being said, you wouldn’t be surprised to find he’d fucked every college girl from here to Edinburgh whose father had so much looked at her askance once. The thought sends a ripple of jealousy through you and you shudder, picturing dozens of faceless girls under him until you want to tear your hair out. The man practically has you in a chokehold, and you’ve met him once.

Your rational brain knows it’s crazy, that the idealised version of him built up in your mind means he’ll only disappoint, but you’re almost sure you’ll get a good fuck out of it at the very least. More, if you play your cards well enough.

With ribbons in your hair, silk gloves over your hands and a string of pearls at your throat, you pose in the mirror, practising your teasing pout, your innocent smile, the eyes that say please, sir, let me make you feel good. Your mother shouts your name, and you follow the sound down the stairs and across the foyer, smiling blithely at your parents as they take in the sight of you.

Okay, maybe you’ve laid on the innocence too thick, your makeup subtly widening your eyes and faintly flushing your cheeks. But there’s nothing technically wrong with your outfit, so your mother simply heaves a sigh and leads you out to the car. You arrive perfectly, politely on time, pose quickly for the few cameras and take your seats. Wait staff linger discreetly around, filling champagne flutes thanklessly, as if they exist on a plane below the guests’ notice.

You have to bite back a grin when the placard beside the empty seat at your table reads Matthew Healy; by some magnanimous twist of fate, he’ll be directly across from you, giving you an excuse to gaze at him as long as you like. He’s late, but only fashionably so, smirking and doling out insincere apologies as he saunters to the table. You don’t stand until everyone else has, playing clueless as Matty greets everyone around the table politely.

When he reaches you, his eyes flicker over you in a way that has your knees threatening to buckle, and you finally let yourself take him in properly. He looks fucking gorgeous, dressed in another expensive suit, his curls gelled back with that same smell of cigarettes and cologne seeping from his pores. He leans forward, brushing his lips against the apple of your cheek, and you almost moan at the contact your body has been craving for days. “You look stunning, darling,” he murmurs, so quiet that you could almost be convinced you’d imagined it, if not for the dark look in his eyes when he pulls back. 

A half smile pulls at your lips as he sits down, one of the ubiquitous, black-clad waiters coming forward to fill his glass. The conversation quickly turns to business you couldn’t care less about, giving the automated, reflex responses to questions you’ve heard hundreds of times. You pay attention only when Matty speaks, the low timbre of his voice addictive even when he’s not addressing you. Emboldened by his heavy gaze and the significant looks he fixes you with each time his eyes land on yours, you slip a stockinged foot out of your shoe and trace it across his calf. His eyes widen a fraction, and he raises his glass and an eyebrow in your direction, his gaze laden with promise.

There’s still time before any food gets brought out, and after a few minutes, Matty offers to take you on a spin, introduce you to some of the more important people in suits that are clustered around the room. Your father preens, convinced you’ve made such an impression in the bare moments you’ve held your own in conversation that he wants to mentor you, or something. You accept gratefully, his proprietary hold on your arm falling low to your waist as soon as you’re out of your father’s sight, the heat of his palm splayed over your hip hard to believe. “Let me get you a drink,” he says, steering you to the bar. The crowd parts around him, conversations going quiet like he’s some kind of divine figure, taking a nod and a brief greeting like a blessing from on high. “You’ll need one to deal with this lot,” he adds, jerking a thumb at the gathered crowd, still murmuring awed in his wake.

Smiling, you take a seat at the bar, letting Matty flag down the bartender before you speak. “What’ll you have, darling?”

“Surprise me,” you grin, batting your eyelashes teasingly at him. “So, you hate this stuff, huh?”

Matty huffs a surprised laugh as the bartender pours him a glass of top-shelf red and hands you an Aperol spritz. “Is it that obvious?”

You take a long, slow sip of your drink, watching the way his eyes fall to your lips, pursed around the straw. “I don’t think so. Not to anyone here, anyway. They’re all too worried about what everyone else thinks of them to worry about what anyone else is thinking.”

Something shifts in his expression as he takes in your words, suddenly appraising you critically as a person with thoughts, rather than just a pretty face he wants to take to bed. And he does. Want to take you to bed, that is. His eyes are wide, dilated, his tongue unconsciously wetting his lips more often, his gaze trained on your face so it doesn’t fall further. “Beautiful and smart,” he says finally, leaning back in his chair, all at once dropping the intensity and sinking easily back into irreverence.

“I try,” you say with an artfully careless shrug, letting one of the thin straps of your dress fall from your shoulder, enjoying the way Matty’s eyes trace the movement. There’s a dance in this, a skill; overt flirting between the pair of you, a casual, if laden, conversation to an observer.

“I want to do bad things to you in that dress,” Matty says, low and sudden, a bolt of arousal striking you at your core.

You match his tone. “Like what?”

“The kind of things a man like me shouldn’t be thinking about doing to a girl like you.”

“So, why don’t you?” you challenge, a flicker of carefully masked surprise crossing his face as you drop your facade of naïveté. “There’s always somewhere private at a party like this,” you say, implication heavy in your tone, spreading your legs slightly and licking your lips.

A muscle jumps in Matty’s jaw, jealousy and lust warring in his expression as he pictures you crowded up against a bathroom sink, mouth parted and eyes glassy. “S’that what you’re used to? A quick fuck in a bathroom with some pathetic boy?” He leans close, delivering his next words slow and quiet. “I’m not going to do that, princess,” he says with a disparaging scoff, the sobriquet sending heat pooling between your legs. “Have you ever fucked a man, angel?”

Swallowing your moan, your thighs clench as you whisper, “No.”

“Good. Means I get to show you how it should really feel. Because when I fuck you for the first time, I’m going to make you fall apart for me. Piece by pretty, perfect piece. Shall we?” he adds, standing and offering you a hand without giving you any time to process his words.

You swallow thickly, accepting his hand and standing on unsteady legs. True to his word, he introduces you to what feels like an endless string of people. Their faces all blur together, your body working on autopilot to churn out pleasantries as your mind turns over Matty’s words, spinning them over and over like a coin set on its edge.

“Stay right here,” you whisper to him as he starts to head back to your table, and you’re pleased to find when you return from the bathroom that he’s obeyed. As discreetly as possible, you press the scrap of lace you peeled off from under your dress into his hand. The sound of his choked-off inhale is infinitely gratifying, and you savour his gaze at your back as you stride away, a deliberate sway in your hips.

 By the time you’re back at the table, a thick wedge of business cards is tucked neatly into your purse to be left there and forgotten about until you shake them onto the floor the next time you need the bag. All but the one sitting on the very top, with Matty’s personal number scrawled on the back. He doesn’t take his eyes off you all through dinner, his hand dipping into his pocket at every free moment, the knowledge that his fingers are running over your panties driving you wild. Your legs cross so you don’t start dripping on the seat as you throw pleading glances at Matty every chance you get.

You practically chase him to the bar as dinner winds down, draping yourself over him as much as you dare. “I need you,” you whine, pressing a hand to his inner thigh, feeling the heat of him through his suit trousers. “I can’t wait anymore,” you plead, as close to begging as you can get without prostrating yourself on the floor in front of him.

Matty laughs, condescending. “Needy girl,” he pouts, crooking a finger under your chin. “If you were anyone else, I’d take you home right now, fuck all of these people. But we can’t have that, can we?” he teases. “Because you’re a good girl, yeah? And what would people think, good girl like you all spread out for a dirty old man like me?”

A pathetic whine slips from your lips, lust overtaking you even as the gears start to turn in your mind. “Take me home,” you beg, pulse hammering in your throat at the very prospect. “I can make an excuse, say I’m meeting friends or something. I’m a big girl, they won’t care as long as they don’t know where I actually am. Please?” you pout, leaning so close that your breath kisses across his lips. “I’ll be so good for you, I promise.”

And Matty is only a man, with a man’s self-control. He’s had a few more years to refine it, but he’ll never be immune. “Go on, then, sweetheart. Make your excuses and meet me out front, yeah?” He gives your ass a firm slap as you stand, the brief flash of pain melting into sticky desire that hums under your skin.

You spin a lie to your parents, some story that your friends are in a bar a few streets away, and surely they don’t mind if you slip away just a few minutes early? Honestly, they’re ecstatic you stayed as long as you did, waving you off with unsuspecting smiles. Then, before you know it, you’re in a taxi with Matty, your thigh pressed against his, one of his hands tracing a pattern into your skin. You crowd closer to him, struggling to breathe as lust swallows all the air between you.

He stays teasingly out of your reach, tutting softly when you chase his lips. “You promised to be good for me, princess,” he admonishes, trailing his hand further up your thigh. You obey, squirming as you fall back into your seat, his fingers cruelly close to where you need them. “Good girl. You want me to touch you?” Matty murmurs, leaning in to breathe the words against the shell of your ear, a shudder rolling up your spine at his closeness. You nod, bating your breath as his fingers find the wetness between your legs. “Nice and still for me, yeah, darling?”

Pleasure floods you when the pad of his finger finds your clit, the gentle scrape over your sensitive nerves somehow blinding, your hips rolling as you chase the sensation. “Matty, please,” you moan, pouting pathetically when he takes his hand away.

“You’re not being very good, love. Still, remember? You can sit and keep your hands to yourself until we get home, understand?” You nod, sinking back in your seat and sulking. “Don’t be a brat, princess,” Matty chides, closing his lips around his wet fingers, sucking your arousal off them with an exaggerated moan. “Just a few more minutes and I’ll give you what you need, yeah? Sweet, needy girl.”

You flush at the praise, at the way he can switch from gentle to commanding and back in a second. Your blood is thick with desire, heart working in overdrive to pump it through your body. Then, with no ceremony, the end of the most agonising minutes of your life is signalled by the crunching of gravel under tyres. Matty leads you into the house, his control on a tight leash until the door clicks shut behind you.

He all but slams you against it, crowding into your space, his breath hot on your lips. His smell of cigarettes and cologne envelops you, fills your lungs, dizzying and intoxicating. “Please?” you whine, and he finally, gloriously obliges. Your lips crash together, a messy slide of spit and teeth and tongue that leaves you bruised and begging.

Matty’s hands fall to your ass, squeezing hard at the soft flesh, pliant under his touch as his nails bite crescent-moons of desire into your skin. “Can you jump for me, baby?” he asks, breaking away from you just long enough to breathe the words against your lips. Your legs wrap instinctively around his waist, your dress hiked up so far that it bares your cunt as Matty grips you by the thighs.

Pleasure spreads slowly through you as you grind yourself against him, his lips falling to your neck as he carries you up the stairs, a squeal escaping you as he tosses you on the bed. He stands at the foot of the bed, breathing hard, greedily drinking in the sight of you. “Take that dress off. Now.” His tone leaves no room for argument, practically puppeteering you, expensive silk crumpled on the floor before you can even react. “Gorgeous,” Matty murmurs, one hand coming up to unbutton his shirt. “Can you touch yourself for me? Wanna see how to make you feel good.”

“Uh-huh,” you murmur, eyes fixed on the inches of skin being revealed, a covering dragged off a masterpiece. Dark ink peeks from the V of his shirt, dissonant from the toned, marble skin surrounding it. Impatient, you dip two fingers into yourself, the familiar stretch sending heat shooting up your spine. Gasping, you pinch at your clit, rolling it between two fingers, hips rocking as you moan wantonly up at him.

“Good girl. Does that feel good, princess?”

“Not as good as you,” you pout, fucking yourself desperately on your fingers. “Daddy,” you add, watching that final thread break, Matty’s eyes going dark as he collapses on the bed above you. He kicks off his trousers ungracefully, tugging your hand up to his lips.

His warm mouth closes around your fingers, sucking the taste of your desire off them with a moan. “Such a dirty little girl, dressed up all innocent like that when you just wanna be ruined by your fuckin’ Daddy.” His clothed cock grinds against your aching, soaked core, the contact achingly close to what you need, and yet agonisingly far. “You taste so good, angel. Want me to eat that sweet little pussy of yours?”

Your mind swims at the thought, his skilled, clever tongue buried between your legs, your hands tight in his curls as he devours you. But that isn’t what you need. You shake your head. “Want you to fuck me,” you say, the simmering well of desire endless in the pit of your stomach. “I need it. Please?”

“Oh, sweet girl,” Matty croons, shoving his boxers down his legs. You watch his cock spring free, thudding hot and sticky against his belly. “You want my fingers first, or can you take me all by yourself?”

The subtle condescension sets you on fire, liquefying your brain and sending it flooding down your spine, dripping out of you onto the mattress. You reach down, wrap your hand around him and pump slowly, swallowing his quiet hiss against your mouth. “I can take it, Daddy,” you promise, wide, innocent eyes turned on him.

The stretch when he enters you burns gloriously, your mouth falling open in a perfect, round ‘O’ of ecstasy. Matty fills you slowly, burying himself to the hilt, so deep that you can practically feel him rearranging your insides. “Such a good girl, takin’ all of me like this,” he praises. Discomposed, his accent thickens, rounding the vowels and blurring the ends of his words. Matty rocks his hips one shallow thrust striking a spot inside you that has your vision whiting out, ecstasy buzzing in your heavy limbs. “That felt good, huh? Yeah. I know, I know,” he soothes, swallowing your whines with wet, deliberate kisses, tongue sweeping every corner of your mouth and teeth grazing your lips.

Matty pulls almost all the way out of you, your body crying out at the loss, then slams his hips against yours so hard you see stars. “M-Matty, fuck,” you whimper, back arching desperately as he fucks you into the mattress, hard and fast, the obscene sound of skin meeting ringing out around you.

“Ah-ah. That’s not my name tonight, princess.”

His hips still, the waves of pleasure subsiding in punishment. “‘M sorry, Daddy,” you whine, bringing your hand down to rub at your clit, bright heat bursting between your legs.

“That’s it, angel,” Matty murmurs, pinching softly at your nipple with one calloused hand. “So beautiful all fucked out for me. I’m the only one who can get you like this, huh?”

Subtle jealousy hums in his tone, his kiss turning possessive as you writhe under him. “Yeah,” you whimper breathily. “Never had it this good before.” It’s not a lie. Your body feels at once wound into a coil and loose on your bones, the point where your hips meet your only anchor to your physical form.

Matty scoffs. “That’s because you’ve only fucked boys, princess.  Never had a man before, have you?”

“N-no, Daddy,” you whine, rubbing frantically at your clit, Matty’s rhythmic groans warm against your lips.

His lips fall to your neck, kissing and biting against your tender skin, the scrape of teeth a flash of pain undercutting your desire but gentle enough not to bruise. “That’s right, baby. ‘M your fuckin’ Daddy. Wanna be my girl, huh? Could have you like this whenever you want, never let you worry about anything, ‘cept staying all pretty and cockdrunk for me.”

Oh, God. How does he know? Involuntarily, your legs wrap around his waist, the new angle rapturous as his thrusts continue, long and so deep you practically choke on them. “Mm-hmm. Yeah. Could just be your little toy, never think unless you told me to. Want that so bad, Daddy.”

Matty’s eyes light up, wide and liquid with desire, your heartbeat hammering in your cunt as it throbs around him. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs. “Sweet girl. You wanna be my dumb little slut, huh? Want Daddy to fuck you stupid, turn you into my pretty fucktoy?” The words turn you to liquid, dripping and sticky under his skilled hands. “Yeah, you do,” he grins, arrogant and cocksure, your mind melting into fantasies of being Matty’s kept girl, of bending over with a smile whenever he liked, of spending your days keeping yourself pretty for him, and your nights split open like this. “I can feel how bad you want that, your pretty cunt keeps squeezing me so fuckin’ tight, angel.”

“‘M close,” you whimper, the words choked from your closing throat, desire clamping down on your body like a vice.

“Good girl,” Matty whispers, one of his hands joining yours at your clit, the pressure suddenly dramatically intense, every nerve in your body firing as one. “Cum for me, angel,” he orders, and your body obeys.

You come unglued from yourself, feel it in your whole body, euphoria crushing the air from your lungs. Your cunt pulses, thumping a sick rhythm in tune with Matty’s thrusts into you. Barely conscious, you feel amorphous, a messy string of liquid desire more than a corporeal girl. WIth a final, low groan, Matty spills inside of you, painting your insides white.

A whine escapes you as he pulls out, the loss tangible in your heavy limbs. “Oh, I know, baby, I know,” he soothes, falling beside you and cupping your jaw to kiss you tenderly.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you murmur shakily, and a soft smile brushes at his lips.

“So polite,” he says reverently. “Such a good girl.”

You pout at him and drag two fingers through your slick, messy cunt, sucking the taste of both of you off your fingers. Matty gasps, eyes wide, and you smile around your wet fingers. “You want more, darling?”

You nod frantically, the fire under your skin still raging, ferocious and uncontrollable. Weakly, you lift your head, transfixed to where his cum trickles out of you, pooling white on the mattress. “We taste so good together,” you tell him, without taking your eyes off your ruined core. “Looks so good, your cum dripping out of me. Want you to finger it out of me. Please?” you add, pouting until he kisses you gently, breaking away to smile against your lips. 

“Whatever you want, you’ll get, princess.” His fingers find your hole, teasing at you for a moment before toying with your sensitive clit, a stab of pleasure-pain winding sharply through you. “S’that sore, darling?”

“A bit,” you say, your body lax as he plays with you gently. All the urgency is gone now you’ve both come, the air honey-thick, your breathing slow and deliberate. “Feels good, though.”

Matty’s fingers are broad and thick as he pushes two of them inside you, your soaked cunt accepting him easily. He crooks his fingers, brushing that sweet spot that sets your nerves alight, and begins a slow rhythm. Lewd, wet sounds echo off the walls as you both watch his fingers disappear where you take him, cum leaking out around them.

An orgasm builds slowly at the base of your spine, your body jolting as Matty’s thumb comes up to circle over your clit. He swallows your sudden moan, languid kisses that have your eyes fluttering closed and let you fall into a daydream as he brings you closer.

“Mmm, can I cum again? Please?” you moan, hips rolling down to meet him. Pleasure swims hazy through your head, your blood syrup-thick and heavy with it.

“Can you hold it for a minute, baby? For me? Just wanna watch that pretty cunt of yours taking my fingers a little longer.” You whimper as he curls his long fingers inside of you, trembling with the effort of holding your orgasm at bay. “You make such pretty sounds, princess. Tell me who you belong to and I’ll let you cum, okay?”

“‘M yours, Daddy. Your good little girl,” you promise, words coming out slurred, your tongue too thick in your mouth.

“That’s right, baby,” Matty says, encouraging, grasping possessively at your hip. “All mine, yeah? Go on, princess. Cum,” he instructs, curling his fingers against your g-spot and rubbing a harsh circle into your clit in the same, breathless moment.

All the air crushes out of your lungs, white-hot pleasure melting your brain into liquid. Matty croons reassurances as you writhe under him, the thickness of his fingers visceral where you clench around him. You moan his name over and over in a litany, tasting something divine where the word spills from your lips.

You float back down to Earth, blissed-out and smiling, adoration in Matty’s gaze as he watches you. “There you are, sweet girl,” he grins, warm hand stroking gently up and down your side. “How do you feel?”

“God, incredible,” you answer, stretching back and luxuriating against his pillows. “Best fuck I’ve ever had,” you grin, watching his jaw clench at the reminder that you’ve fucked other people.

“Ruined you for other men, have I?” he says, smug smirk pulling at his lips.

“Other boys,” you correct airily. “Men like you know what they’re doing. Maybe you’ve given me a taste for it. Maybe I’ll fuck my way through the office, get all those men you see every day eating out of my hand.”

Matty practically snarls, silencing you with a harsh kiss. “Those fucking pricks couldn’t make you cum if their lives depended on it. Believe me, darling, I’m the best you’ll ever have,” he promises, and you give a quiet giggle. Your eyes are heavy even as electricity still buzzes under your skin, and you yawn, catlike, and settle against his bare chest. “Tired, angel?” he says, a hint of humour in his tone.

“Right shattered me, haven’t you?” you complain, swatting playfully at him. “Can I stay?”

“‘Course, darling. Long as you like,” Matty says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Want me to make you something to eat? Can’t have my girl going hungry after I’ve worn her out like that.” The casualness with which he flings the words my girl sends your heart racing, one of his hands coming up to cup your jaw then trailing up to play with your hair. It’s all so sickeningly domestic, more intimate than when he had you split open and dizzy under him.

“Sounds nice,” you say sleepily, but whine when he moves to get up.

You pout when Matty tugs on his discarded boxers, and he chuckles softly. “What?” he adds as your frown deepens, watching him pull on a pair of grey joggers.

“Was looking at you,” you say sulkily. “You have a cute ass.”

His head tips back as he laughs, baring the sloping column of his neck gorgeously, his curls bouncing with the movement. “Are you objectifying me?” he grins, mock-affronted.

“Yes,” you say immediately, sitting up and tracing your gaze deliberately over his chest, muscles rippling as he breathes. Your attention falls to the tattoo at his hip, half-hidden by his joggers, and the sudden need to taste the skin there overtakes you. “What else is a big, strong man like you good for? Fucking me right and cooking me dinner, and looking gorgeous doing it,” you tease, sucking in a sharp breath when he crosses the room in two strides and catches your jaw in a harsh grip.

“Don’t be a brat, princess. ‘Cause then I’ll have to show you what I’m fucking good for.”

“Okay,” you breathe against his lips, trailing your hand down his chest and thumbing over the tattoo, savouring the way Matty shudders under your touch.

The air under your hand goes cold as he steps away. “Needy girl,” he grins. “Food first, yeah? You want me to bring it up here? Serve my princess dinner in bed?” There’s that my again, one tiny, thoughtless syllable sending a thousand fantasies flickering behind your eyes. “Or do you wanna come down with me?”

You slip out from under the covers and set your feet on the floor, only for your knees to buckle when you try to stand. “Fucked me so good my legs don’t work,” you say with a weak laugh, smiling softly when Matty comes to fuss over you. “Can you carry me downstairs?”

“Here,” Matty says, handing you a shirt and boxers that are probably too small for him; they dwarf you, the shirt swallowing you while the boxers hang indecently low on your hips. At the sight of you in his clothes, he stops still, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply for a long moment. “Look fucking gorgeous wearing my clothes, darling. C’mere, I can carry you if you want,” he offers, scooping you into his arms.

Nestled happy against his warm, bare chest, you notice for the first time how fucking big his house is. It’s almost brutalist, but still homey, evidently lived-in. Framed photographs and prints litter the walls, slightly wilted flowers sitting in a vase atop a gorgeous upright piano.

“D’you play?” Matty asks, catching you admiring it.

“Since I was a kid. Do you?”

He huffs out a laugh above you. “You think I’d have a fifty grand piano sitting around that I don’t play?”

You shrug as best you can, still wrapped in his arms. “My parents have a baby grand that nobody played until I came along. It’s like a status symbol, or something, I dunno.”

“Yes, I play. The guitar too,” he adds, slowly strolling in the direction of the kitchen.

The realisation dawns on you, and your mouth drops in an ‘O’ of understanding. “So that’s why your hands are like that. I don’t know why I didn’t put that together. You’re hardly the type for hard labour.”

Matty laughs, setting you down on the kitchen counter. “You don’t know,” he teases, pressing a featherlight kiss against your cheek. “I could’ve been a mechanic in a past life.”

The thought of him, sweaty and dripping in grease, bending you over the hood of a car, makes your head spin, and he smirks as your jaw goes slack. “I wish,” you grin as he retrieves a pan from an upper cabinet, flexing the muscles in his back gratuitously with the movement. ement.

“What are you feeling like? Eggs? Pasta?” he offers, setting the pan on the stove.

You mull it over for a moment. “Can you make me French toast?”

“‘Course I can, baby.” You watch his hands as he cracks two eggs in a bowl, whisking them together with cinnamon and sugar. He steps between your legs as the bread sizzles in the pan with a healthy spoonful of melted butter, kissing at your neck and jaw. In the light, the fading hickeys scattered over your skin are visible, and he prods jealously at them. “Who gave you these?” he says, gravel in his voice.

Shrugging airily, you smirk up at him. “Some boy,” you tease, Matty’s nostrils flaring as he fights to control his reaction.

“Did he make you cum?” he asks, nails biting possessively into your hips.

“We didn’t get that far. Just made out on the couch. He was a good kisser, though.” At that, Matty captures your lips, kissing you slow and deep, the lingering taste of red wine filling your mouth. The kiss is hard, almost aggressive, like he’s trying to forcibly erase the memory of any kiss you’ve ever had. He bites gently at your lower lip as he pulls away, not hard enough to sting, but enough for you to read the message in the action. “Careful. Don’t burn my toast.”

A mumbled fuck makes you giggle, and he turns to flip the bread in the pan. “Don’t worry, angel. Still perfect.” He watches you as he speaks, wide brown eyes liquid and luminous, framed by delicate lashes.

Still, if he gets to be jealous, so do you. “Do you make midnight snacks for all the girls?” you ask, swinging your legs back and forth off the counter.

“Can’t say I do, darling.”

The implication of his words thuds hard in your chest, a warm flicker of hope striking to life like a match under your skin. “What’s so special about me?”

“Good girl like you deserves the princess treatment. ‘Specially from a dirty old man like me,” he grins, sliding your toast onto a plate. The sudden reminder of your age gap, of the scandal you’d cause if even a whisper of this got out, sends a shuddering thrill up your spine. Matty hands you the plate, topped with icing sugar and drizzled with syrup, and you tuck in eagerly. 

He picks up a pack of cigarettes from the counter, eyebrows going up when you go to reach for one. “What? I’m not always a good girl.”

“Oh, I know, love,” Matty smirks, lit cigarette dangling indecently from his lips. “Can’t have you ruining your pretty lungs, though. Here,” he says, pulling deeply on the cigarette and then pressing his open mouth to yours. Grey smoke curls from your parted lips as you suck in the smoke greedily. He shotguns you half the cigarette, your head light as the nicotine buzz hits.

You drink in the sight of him as you eat, taking advantage of the light to appreciate the finer details of him. The gentle glow of the cigarette where it sits between his plush, pink lips, the joggers obscenely low on his hips, the V of muscle that points tantalisingly down, a light trail of hair disappearing into his waistband.

“You wanna go back to bed, angel?” Matty smirks, the air between you shifting as he meets your gaze, eyes darkened.

You scoff. “Bed’s boring. You have this whole fucking house, and you wanna take me back to bed?”

Matty crowds close to you, stealing a kiss and dropping to his knees. “Alright, princess.” His fingers dig into your hips as he eases his boxers off you, dipping his head to kiss at your bare thighs. A filthy smirk spreads wide across his lips as he looks up at you. “You’ve eaten. Now it’s my turn,” he promises, and your giggle turns to a moan when his tongue meets your centre.

He devours you like he’s been starved, lapping at your still-soaked cunt in a toe-curling rhythm. A sudden flash of pleasure-pain strikes sharply where his teeth scrape at the tender flesh of your thigh, sucking and biting hard enough to bruise. A quiet moan tumbles from your lips, and you squeeze your thighs around his head to urge him back to your cunt. Obediently, he wraps his lips around your clit, the pressure at your sensitive bundle of nerves making your head spin. “C’mon, princess. You make such pretty sounds, I know you can be louder than that.”

Matty sets a dizzying pace, tongue-fucking you with fervour. Burying your hands in his hair, you shift so you can rest your legs over his shoulders, the new angle letting him drive his tongue even deeper inside you. Heat roils in your belly, winding around your organs, entangling sweetly with your veins. “Fuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips against his face wantonly. “Feels s’good, Daddy,” you moan out, gasping as Matty curls his tongue perfectly inside you, white-hot pleasure buzzing up your spine.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs and tilts his head up to look at you, his lips and chin practically dripping with your slick. He sucks another bruise into your sensitive skin, kissing over the mark apologetically. Your skin is on fire, tension pulling tight in all your limbs at once. “Taste so fucking good,” he moans, kissing softly at your cunt, his laugh ghosting over your skin as you flutter needily in response. “Could spend the rest of my fuckin’ life between these pretty thighs, darling.”

Your head is hazy, barely coherent thoughts drifting in and out, an incomprehensible plea falling from your lips. Matty won’t let you get complacent with a rhythm, switching between broad, flat strokes over your cunt, deep thrusts into you and sucking on your clit so fast it deliriates you. “‘M close,” you whine, tugging hard on his curls as ecstasy builds at the base of your spine. “Wanna cum for you,” you add, a hint of begging in your tone.

“Say please, darling.” The words vibrate gloriously in your cunt, a shock of pleasure rolling over you.

“Please, Daddy, I wanna cum. Need it so bad,” you plead, whimpering when he scrapes his teeth over your clit, fighting to hold your orgasm at bay until he gives you permission.

“Go on, princess. Cum for Daddy, yeah?” The words are all you need, a string of obscenities interspersed with breathless moans of his name tumbling from your lips as pure euphoria overtakes you. Hot pleasure cascades over you, racing down your spine and along every nerve in your body. You writhe against Matty’s mouth, half-convinced you’ve left your body behind, made of pure sensation.

Boneless, you slump backward, sure you could fall asleep on the cool granite of Matty’s kitchen counter. He catches you, steadying, and gathers you back into his arms. “Thank you, Daddy,” you smile up at him, curling into his chest.

The thump of his heartbeat is soothing as he picks you up again. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs fondly. “Now do you want me to take you back to bed?” he adds, grinning teasingly. He carries you back to his room, laying you softly against the pillows and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Just need you awake for a few more minutes, sweetheart. Need to get you cleaned up, then you can sleep, yeah?” He’s so tender, speaking softly and petting your hair for a moment before he fetches a damp cloth. Running it softly over you, he makes soothing sounds at your pained whimpers. “I know, baby, I know. ‘M sorry. Just a little more, okay?”

You’re half-asleep by the time Matty climbs into bed with you, sweeping your hair off the back of your neck and kissing softly at the skin there. An arm drapes over your waist, the pressure warm and soothing. “I wanna be your girl,” you mumble, more than half-asleep, barely conscious of the words as they slip unbidden from your lips. You’re unconscious before you hear his reply.

You’re sore in the morning, momentarily disoriented by the weight of a body in bed with you, before last night comes flooding back and you smile to yourself. “Morning, princess,” Matty murmurs, voice low and sleep-thick in your ear.

“Good morning,” you smile, stretching out your muscles and arching your back. Matty hisses as your ass meets his hips, his hardness pressing against you. “Oh, very good morning, hm?” Turning to face him, you reach down, slipping your hand under his waistband to palm his cock. He twitches under your touch, a sleepy moan falling from his lips as he rolls his hips into your hand. “Wanna suck your cock,” you murmur, his reaction visceral in your palm.

“Such a sweet girl,” he says, sliding his boxers off as you climb over him. You kiss his neck, the hollow of his throat, working your way down his chest. Indulgently, you bite a bruise into his chest, a twin to the ones that litter your thighs. You trace your tongue over the tattoo at his hip, his body shuddering at the sensation. His cock twitches against your lips as you press a kiss to the head, the taste of salt filling your mouth when you lick your lips.

You mouth at him teasingly for a moment, needy whines filling the air above you. Having power over him this time is intoxicating, and you hold his hips down as he tries to thrust into your mouth. “Not so fast,” you grin. “Keep still and hands to yourself, remember?” Matty swears softly as you repeat his words back to him, hands fisting in the sheets.

Teasing him for a few more moments, you kiss at his lower belly, smirking as he trembles under your lips, cock drooling. The moan Matty lets out when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock is obscene, low and keening, and you dip your head to take him in deeper. “That’s it,” he murmurs, threading a hand gently in your hair. “C’mon, sweet girl, just a little further. I know you can take it, angel.” The encouragement sends a shudder through you, liquid pleasure pooling between your thighs.

Obediently, you relax your throat, sinking further until your nose meets his skin. “Good girl,” Matty says. “Good fucking girl, takin’ me so well. So fuckin’ pretty all stretched out around my cock.” Saliva pools under your tongue, dripping helplessly from the corners of your mouth. “Fuck,” he groans, thrusting gently into your mouth. “Such a pretty slut, fuckin’ drooling on my cock.”

You pull off him, a string of saliva connecting your skin for a split-second. “‘M your slut, Daddy. Can go harder, if you want,” you say, wrapping your hand around his cock, spit-soaked and dripping, and pump slowly. You lave at him for a moment, licking messy stripes over his cock before taking him all the way in one motion.

Matty groans, bucking his hips. “You want me to fuck your pretty mouth, huh, angel?” His hand tightens in your hair as he thrusts into your mouth, the stretch in the corners of your mouth gorgeous.

“You can do better than that,” you murmur. “Want it hard. I won’t break. Unless you want me to,” you add with a grin, moaning around his cock as you swallow him back down. Finally, gloriously, Matty fucks into your mouth, sets a deep, punishing pace. He pulls you by your hair, the sting in your scalp divine as he uses you; you let yourself slip out of your body, sinking into the warm, fuzzy feeling of being his toy.

“That’s right, baby. Fucking made to take my cock, yeah? Good little girl just wants to be Daddy’s cocksleeve.” The filthy words wash over you, thighs clenching as arousal thrums low in your belly. Wetness pools between your legs and you slip a hand down your body to rub at your clit. The soft spark of pleasure grants you the briefest relief, and you moan around his cock. He’s losing control, the movement of his hips turning sloppy as your throat burns raw. “Fuck,” Matty hisses. “Gonna cum, angel.”

“You wanna cum in my mouth?” He nods, transfixed by your flushed skin and spit-slick lips. “Say please, Daddy.”

He moans, long and low, as you take him back in your mouth, swallowing around him. “C’mon, princess, I wanna cum in that pretty mouth of yours. Fuck, I need it.” He fucks your throat wildly, heat firing through your body, sensation cascading over you. “Please?” The word sounds delicious falling from his lips, sliding sweetly across your brain as you moan around him. With a final groan, he spills in your mouth, a cry of your name tearing from his throat. His cock pulses in your throat, the salt of him filling your mouth as you swallow obediently. “That’s it, take it all. Such a good little cumdump for me, princess.”

You pull off him, sitting back on your heels with a grin. “Did I do good?” you ask, pouting down at him.

You’re only teasing, but when Matty meets your gaze, chest heaving and eyes lidded, and murmurs, “So good, princess.” A gush of heat floods between your sticking thighs. “Where’d my good girl learn to suck cock like that?”

Falling back onto his chest, you give him a wicked smirk. “I told you already, Daddy.” You shift your hips, grinding your soaked cunt against his cock and whining at the soft buzz of pleasure that lights under your skin. “I’m not always a good girl.”

He groans, rolling his hips against yours. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, baby.”

You giggle, pressing a kiss to the tattoo in the centre of his chest. “The elderly and their weak hearts,” you scoff, hissing when he pinches the flesh of your ass.

“Oi. Be nice.” Rolling your eyes dramatically, you mime zipping your lips. His fingers wander between your legs, anticipation thrilling under your skin as he finds your clit, the rough pad of his finger scraping against your sensitive nerves. “So wet, princess. Does being my little cocksleeve turn you on, baby?”

“Mhmm,” you murmur. “Feel a bit gross right now, though. I wanna shower first.” Matty grins, a vision of you naked and dripping wet from the shower playing out so clearly on his face that you can practically see it reflected in his eyes.

You hop up on the bathroom counter as Matty runs the shower, rinsing your mouth out with mouthwash and leaning over the sink to spit it out. Matty does the same, then steps between your legs, and you cross them instinctively behind his back. He catches your lips, mint taste mingling in your breaths as you kiss open-mouthed, hot and messy. Distracted, you lose yourself in the kiss, forgetting why you’re in the bathroom at all until the air is thick and cloying with steam.

Matty breaks away from you and helps you to your feet, tugging his shirt up over your head and discarding it to the floor. He can’t resist a greedy handful of your tit, gazing down to where the flesh spills over his fingers. “Pretty girl,” he murmurs, walking you backwards until you’re stepping into the shower.

You pull him under the spray, curls sticking to his forehead as the water soaks him. His hands trail over your body, grasping at your wet flesh as you press yourself needily against him. His cock is hard against your belly, heat pooling in your core as he pulls you in for a wet kiss. Matty grips your thighs, your head spinning as his tongue sweeps your mouth. “Jump up for me, sweet girl,” he says against your lips. “I’ll catch you, don’t worry.” Something in your chest catches as he smiles earnestly down at you, and you force it down before it bubbles out of control and something incriminating slips from your lips.

Obediently, you jump up, your legs tangling around Matty’s waist as he crowds you against the shower tile, his nails biting at your thighs where he holds you in place. You moan against his mouth as you grind your hips down against his stomach, a soft buzz of pleasure growing where your skin meets his. “Daddy, please. Want your cock,” you whine, steam curling around your bodies as you grasp weakly at his wet skin.

He laughs softly against your lips, angling your hips carefully as he lines up his cock. Torturously slow, he lowers you down, pleasure rolling hot under your skin from the point where his hips meet yours. Your cunt throbs, stretched wide around him as Matty moans against your neck. “God, this fucking cunt drives me crazy. Made for this,” he groans as he bottoms out, hips flush under the warm spray of the shower.

“C’mon,” you whimper, clenching your cunt around him and rolling your hips. “Fuck me. I need it,” you beg, scraping your nails down his back.

His cock twitches inside you, the barest flicker of sensation sending a pulse of heat thrumming under your skin. “Needy girl,” he says, clicking his tongue condescendingly. 

“Please, Daddy,” you moan, writhing in his arms, the plea on your lips breaking into a whine as he pushes into you agonisingly slow. Your head thuds back against the tile as your eyes slip closed, hot pleasure coiling between your legs as you clench your cunt around him.

Matty groans as he bottoms out, your legs locked around his waist as you pant into his mouth. “God, takin’ me so well, princess. Look so beautiful while I’m fucking you like this, fuck,” he praises, his words sending heat rushing to your cheeks. His head falls to suck and bite at the flesh of your tits, pain blooming into bliss under your skin as he fucks into you slowly.

You moan desperately, scrambling for purchase against his wet skin. “More, harder, please,” you whimper, rocking your hips as arousal pools in your cunt and drips out over him. He laughs darkly, and you shudder slightly, wondering what you’ve let yourself in for.

“Harder, huh?” he murmurs into your neck. “Whatever you want, princess.” It’s the only warning you get before he lifts you and slams you down on his cock, your hips meeting hard as he strikes deep inside you. He fucks you wildly, the slick heat of his body pinning you to the wall as he mouths at your neck, his breath hot on your skin. Incoherent moans fall from your lips, your head hazy and distant, pleasure welling hot under your skin.

His lips come up to cover yours, swallowing your wanton moans greedily, the faint taste of mint on his tongue as he licks into your mouth. “God, such a good girl,” he murmurs. “Wish you could see yourself, baby. Such a pretty little cocksleeve for me.” Arousal drips between your legs, mingling with the water soaking you, your cunt throbbing at his words. “You like that, princess?” he asks with a soft laugh, subtle derision cascading down your spine. “Little slut. Wanna be Daddy’s pretty toy, yeah?”

You whine, nails digging into his shoulders. His rhythm doesn’t slow, your grip on sanity slackening with every pulse of heat in your cunt. “‘M yours, Daddy,” you manage to get out around broken moans.

“That’s right, princess.” He’s practically dragging you up and down on him, using you like you really are a toy. “Gonna be a good girl and cum for Daddy, hm?” Your legs tighten around Matty’s waist as one of his hands leaves your hip to play with your clit. The rough scrape of his calloused finger over your sensitive bundle of nerves is too much, and it barely takes another minute before your world shatters.

Your scream echoes off the tile, cunt pulsing as your blood burns with ecstasy. Heat floods every nerve in your body, bone-deep pleasure swelling under your skin, incessant gasps and whines falling from your lips. Matty’s brutal pace never slows, chasing his own pleasure, silencing your whines with his mouth as you squirm against the overstimulation. “‘M almost there, baby. Just a little more, takin’ it so well, princess,” he assures you, rhythm sloppy and faltering as he gets closer. Your name spills from his lips in a groan as he pulses inside you, ropes of cum dripping sticky down your insides. 

“Fuck,” you murmur, whining as he pulls out and gingerly setting a leg on the floor, testing whether they can hold your weight. Matty’s hands hover at your waist, ready to catch you if you slip, and you stretch up to press a grateful kiss to his lips.

Matty pulls you fully under the shower, reaching for a bottle of shower gel and soaping his hands. “Feeling good?” he says, cocky smirk playing on his lips.

“Mhmm,” you sigh happily, settling against his chest as he runs his hands slow and tender over your body. In your blissed-out state, you barely notice your next words as they slip from your lips. “Wish it could be like this all the time.”

Matty croons softly, brushing a thumb over your nipple and kneading at your tit. “Wanna be my sweet girl forever, hm? I’d love that, princess,” he murmurs, the fantasy rooting in your mind despite how obscenely ridiculous the idea is — you’ve barely known him a week, for Christ’s sake. Something about him makes you feel safe, though, secure. Like you’ve known him for years — although, maybe not, given the circumstances. A moan slips from your lips when Matty digs his thumbs into your back, working the tension free from under your skin as your eyes slip happily closed. He cleans your cunt gently, smirking at the cum stringing between his fingers and swirling down the drain. “Can I wash your hair?” he offers with a soft smile.

Your chest feels distended, bloated with an affection you know you shouldn’t be feeling as you nod, the scent of his shampoo maddeningly comforting, sickeningly familiar. Matty’s skilled fingers work over your scalp, a quiet kind of bliss rolling over you as you relax into his touch. Stepping out of the shower, your hair scrunched up in an old t-shirt of his that he swore he didn’t care about getting ruined, you can’t hold back a pout when he wraps a towel around his waist. “Hey, no, what do you think you’re doing?” you gasp, suddenly distracted as Matty starts to bring a towel up to his hair. Puzzled, he stares at you blankly as you snatch it from his grip. “Gonna ruin those pretty curls if you keep doing that,” you tut. “Here, sit down. Let me spoil you for a second, okay?” You’ve never felt so cared for by one of your hookups, even by some of your boyfriends, so you seize a chance to return the favour. 

Obligingly, he sits on the closed toilet seat, letting you advance on him with a tub of obscenely expensive hair gel. He smiles softly, leaning involuntarily into your touch as you twist his curls around your fingers, defining them neatly and admiring the way they bounce back on themselves. You straddle his lap to scrunch the gel into his hair, batting his hand away when he tries to grab your tit. “Behave,” you chide, laughing and stepping away to take in your handiwork. With his hair loose and framing his face sweetly, he looks younger, more innocent, a far cry from the man calling you a pretty little cocksleeve not even half an hour ago.

“What are you thinkin’ about, darling?” Matty murmurs, searching gaze heavy on your bare skin.

You blink, shaking your head as if to clear it. “Just about how I could really go for that breakfast in bed right now,” you grin, teasing to alleviate the intensity in the air between you.

He huffs a laugh. “Think it might be closer to lunch by now,” he smirks. “How about I do you one better? Let me take you out for lunch, yeah?”

Your jaw hangs open in shock. Of all the ways you were expecting this to end, this wasn’t it. “Like… like a date?” A date means something, means being seen together in public, means being more than just a dirty little secret.

“Yeah, princess. Like a date.” He smiles fondly. “Here, I’ll call you a car. You go home, get changed, and I’ll pick you up in an hour, okay?” Instinctively, you nod, his tone leaving no room for argument even if you’d wanted to. You open your mouth to ask how he knows where you live, the answer coming to you with sudden, shocking clarity. Right. Because he’s your father’s boss.

Well, fuck. That certainly complicates things.

…But it’s not like complicated has ever stopped you before.

[byyourside28]

Both

Matty x Reader x Zayn

WC: 5.1K

Warning: Pure filth (3some, male and female oral, double penetration)

Summary: You take both of your boys.

A/N: I had to post this because of the stairway to the sky tour<333 and this isn't edited because I can't find the edited version so ignore the mistakes<33

The further I move down the hall, I can hear a soft beat coming from my home studio where a light is filtered out from behind the slightly ajar door. I knock twice with my knuckles before pushing the door open, Zayn’s head snapping to me instantly.

Sending Zayn a smirk as I lean against the door frame as he watches me. His eyes roam up and down my body and it only takes a second of him staring before he looks away, pausing the beat before turning his chair and facing me fully.

“Well...Didn’t you say I could I can use the studio whenever?” He questions with an almost knowing smirk on his lips. “Why’re you up, petal?”

“Maybe because someone decided to break in and mess with my equipment?” I trail off, picking at a nonexistent fuzz on my cotton shorts while trying to hold back a smile.

Zayn raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider before spinning back around to the computer. “I did not break in; I simply took advantage of your negligence. Besides, I couldn't resist the temptation of this beautiful studio.”

I push off the door frame and walk further into the room. “Well, you better have made something amazing to compensate for your trespassing.”

“C’mere and you can hear for yourself.” Zayn turns in his chair, patting his lap invitingly. I raise an eyebrow at his gesture, a cheeky smile playing at the corners of my lips. Slowly, I saunter over to him, my steps deliberate and calculated. As I approach, Zayn's eyes never waver from mine, a silent challenge passing between us.

Zayn’s arms snake around my waist, pulling me down and onto his lap before turning back to the soundboard. His hand reaches out to press a few keys, and the beat that had been paused earlier begins to play through the speakers. The room is instantly filled with a pulsating rhythm, vibrating through my body but I can’t even focus on the beat.

My gaze is magnetically drawn to his hand, the canvas of his sun-kissed skin is a tapestry, cloaked in an interwoven narrative of ink. His veins rise like secret pathways—untamed rivers mapping their path up the landscape of his arms. Even from this distance, I could almost taste the bitter tinge of ink on his skin and it has me clenching my thighs, unintentionally squirming on Zayn’s lap.

“Everything okay, petal?” Zayn purrs against the shell of my ear and the vibrations of his voice have me gripping onto his thigh. “Like the song?”

“It’s perfect.” I reply tightly, swallowing harshly as I try to regain control of my racing pulse. Zayn's hand tightens around my waist, pulling me impossibly closer to him, and I can feel the heat radiating off his body. “I might just have to forgive you for trespassing.” I tease, running my fingers lightly over the intricate tattoos adorning his skin.

Each stroke of my fingertips elicits a reaction from Zayn, a subtle twitch or a suppressed gasp. He tries to hide it, but I can feel his body betray him under me. His lips ghost along my upper jaw, sending shivers down my spine, as he whispers, "I knew you'd like it." The words melt into my skin, igniting a fire within me.

I tilt my head, pretending to ponder his words. "Well, I suppose you do have a knack for knowing what I like," I say playfully.

Before I could even take a single breath, he turns my body to face him, my thighs straddling his lap, his hands gripping my hips firmly. The beat continues to thump in the background, a soundtrack to the rising tension between us.

With each of my hands gently cradling the sides of his neck, my thumbs softly drifting over the crimson tattoo designs etched there. Engulfed by an enigmatic allure, their stark vibrancy popped against the backdrop of his skin.

Zayn's eyes darken with desire as he leans in closer, his warm breath caressing my cheek. “You know, I can't help but wonder what other things I know about you,” he murmurs huskily, his fingers lightly pushing up my shirt, grazing the skin on my lower back.

A playful smirk dances on my lips as I lean in, brushing my nose against his. “Oh really? And what other secrets have you uncovered, Mr. Malik?” I tease.

Zayn chuckles lowly, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine. “Well, let's just say I've discovered a few interesting pieces of information...”

I nibble on my bottom lip, arching an eyebrow. “Is that so? And what have you found out?”

His grip on my hips tightens ever so slightly, his eyes burning into mine. “Oh, petal,“ he whispers huskily, sending shivers down my spine. “Is your pussy so greedy that my cock isn’t enough for her?”

I take a sharp intake of breath, caught off guard by his words. Heat rushes to my cheeks, but I refuse to let him see me flustered. Instead, I lean back slightly, maintaining eye contact as I respond with a coy smile as I run my fingertips lightly along his jawline, feeling the slight stubble beneath my touch. “I don’t know what you’re talking abo—”

The words barely leave my lips before Zayn’s hand was gripping my neck pulling me to him, his fingers applying just enough pressure to send a jolt of electricity through my body.

His voice is low and seductive as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against mine. “Don't play games with me, petal,” he whispers, “You know exactly what I'm talking about.”

I bite my lip, unsure whether to resist or surrender to the intoxicating power he holds over me. “Z...”

“My cock s’not enough, huh?” Zayn's lip curls upward, a bitter twist to his mouth. He leans back, his grip never loosening. “You let Healy taste what’s mine, didn’t you?” he asked in a low growl, each word slicing through the air like a blade honed with possessiveness.

“W-w-what... I... I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stuttered. “Matty and I are just friends,” I insist, my voice wavering slightly. Zayn's eyes narrow as he releases his grip on my neck, his gaze piercing into mine.

“Are we just friends, sweetheart?”

Matty's voice startles me, causing me to jump slightly. I glance over Zayn’s head to see him standing in the doorway. An unexpected urge to hide the fact that I was on Zayn's lap flares up inside me, and I quickly attempt to get off him. However, he keeps his grip on my hips tightly, not letting me go.

My face turns redder by the second as I try to come up with something to say, but Matty's smirk only grows wider. "What are you doing here?" I manage to squeak out.

“Zayn invited me, babe.” Matty laughs, shaking his head at me. His gaze flickers between Zayn and me before settling on me curiously. “You share us...So why can’t we do the same?”

“Such a fuckin’ slut,” Zayn muses, his fingertips ghosting over the expanse of my thighs, “isn’t she, Matty?”

Matty smirks, his face void of any emotion besides lust and approval. “Yeah? I’m not so sure, Malik.” His breaths are heavy as he moved around the side of the bed, stroking his finger against and up, my body. His movements are slow and intentional. I need more.

I try to move closer towards Matty’s fingers, but Zayn’s grip on my legs is relentless. He urges me to part them. “Why don’t you show him, petal.”

The two of them watch me intently as I part my legs, the breeze on my swollen clit causing me to bite back a moan. “Please,” I choke out, fisting my hands on the sheets in desperation.

“Please?” Matty mocks, his smirk growing as he stalks closer, his fingertip dancing alongside Zayn’s and up the curve of my body. “Please, what?” His fingers grip onto my jaw, pulling me eyes so they land on him.

“Please, sir.”

Matty laughs, “So fuckin’ pathetic.” He leans close, his nose brushing against mine as he looks into my eyes. His expression is soft—like melted chocolate. “You can beg better than that, sweetheart.”

I can’t help but whine, but that only entices Matty and Zayn further. Zayn chuckles, a dark and daring sound deep from his throat, as he snakes his hand between my thighs. “You want us to touch you, correct?” He earns another groan from me as his finger just barely misses my clit. “You have to be a good girl and do as we say. Understand?”

“Yes.” I answer meekly, and attempt to move my hips for any form of relief.

This doesn’t sit well with Matty. He used his hand to push down on my stomach, anchoring my hips down to the bed under me. “We didn’t fucking say you could move, did we?”

“Matty—please, I need you.”

He pouts his lower lip, and shakes his head. “You need me?” Turning to look over his shoulder, he gestures with a jerk of his neck, “Or you need him? Which one, sweetheart?”

My mind is reeling as the pressure on my stomach lightens, and Matty moves his hands up the center of my abdomen towards my chest. His fingertip brushes underneath my tit. “Words, sweetheart. Tell us which one you want.”

Which one do I want?

Zayn is fucking beautiful. His tanned skin is so golden, it feels like I’m staring at the sun itself. The sharp angles of his facial structure make him look like an angel. But when he smiles, he has this wicked little glint in his eye that makes my heart skip a beat.

Then there’s Matty. His face is gorgeous—his cheekbones are high and defined, accentuated by his pale skin, giving off a soft glow from within. His eyelashes are dark, and his lips, full and soft—so kissable. Just thinking about his lips makes my brain melt.

“Both. I want you both.” My voice cracks on the last word. It sounds needy even to my own ears. They laugh in unison, and then turn to each other.

“There’s my slutty little princess.” Zayn coos mockingly, his index finger dipping into my folds —up and down, up and down until I’m squirming beneath him, begging for more. His gaze flickers between my parted legs, and a smug smirk spreads across his face. With a seductive glint in his eyes, he holds up his soaked fingers to Matty, “Think she can take us both?”

A pitiful whine travels from my lips at the thought of both of them being inside me. How my pussy would be stretched wide open, how my body would scream in pleasure and pain as their cocks pounded into me. How my pussy would tremble, begging for relief.

With a nod from Matty, he takes one of Zayn’s fingers in his mouth, sucking and licking it, moaning at the taste before releasing the digit with a pop. “Gonna fuckin’ ruin that sweet little cunt.”

It’s all I can do to keep silent; not only am I too turned on to speak, the two men’s combined attention is enough to leave me breathless. But what I don’t expect is to watch their lips crash together, kissing feverishly and roughly, tongues meeting in sloppy, wet movements.

Sitting up on my elbows, I watch the scene before me, the room swirling in a hazy blur as my mind tries to catch up with the intensity of my two favorite men.

Matty's strong hand grips the back of Zayn's neck, while Zayn's arm slides around Matty's waist, pulling him closer, their bodies pressing against each other, molding to fit every curve and contour.

A low moan escapes from Zayn's lips, muffled by the fervent kiss, and I can’t help but let out a pathetic whine at the sight. The sound has them breaking away, eyes gliding to me. “What’s that? We couldn’t hear you.”

Zayn cocks his head slightly, waiting for an answer I refuse to give him. After a moment of silence, he’s reaching for Matty once more, his hand wrapping around his slender throat as their lips crash together. Matty melts into his touch, his hand lifting to hold onto Zayn’s jaw.

I can’t help but watch in awe, my own body reacting to theirs as soft moans fall from their lips. My thighs tighten together and my chest rises and falls rapidly.

Their lips move in tandem; both of them are somewhere between begging and pleading, between moaning and growling into each other's mouths with desperation. Matty was the first one to break away. He stands from the bed, stripping away the shirt from his torso and tossing it to the side of the room.

He motions for Zayn to do the same. He starts unzipping his trousers, keeping his eyes on me, and drops the trousers to the ground. My eyes are trained on Matty as he stands in front of me, clad in only a dark pair of boxers.

“Over here, darlin’.” Zayn speaks up, standing on the opposite side of me. My eyes flash towards him, nearly drooling at the sight. He also stood in only boxers, a devilish smirk playing on his lips.

“Can you please?” My voice trembles on the edge of desperation as I beseech them, my words hanging heavy in the charged atmosphere. They remain silent, their searing gazes never faltering from mine. Matty, his body radiating hunger, kneels on the mattress, his hand gripping my leg and pulling me towards him.

“Matty... please.” I whimper, my gaze locked with his, pleading for him to ignite the fire within me.

Fucking hell, I’ll take anything at this point.

Matty starts to answer, his lips parting slightly but Zayn intervenes swiftly, “Can we what?” His tone commanding, brushing Matty’s hand away from my ankle with an assertiveness that sends a shiver down my spine as I sit up on my elbows. Our brows furrow in unison at Zayn's interruption.

“Please, just touch me.” I whine as Zayn forcefully positions Matty on the ground before him on his knees.

“Please?” My plea is desperate now as I strive to provoke a response from them. “Please, Zayn. Please,” I become insistent, the threat of tears brimming in my eyes heightening the intensity of the situation. My hands ball into fists and twist into the sheets beside me as Zayn's fingers knot in Matty's curls—a move that prompts a closed-eyed hum of pleasure from Matty. “I’ll do anything.”

“No.” Zayn's words cut through the thick silence as he tugged back Matty’s head with an authoritative yank. “You’re gonna stay quiet and watch. Understand?”

This new position offers an enticing view of Matty's neck—its delicious landscape peppered with dark stubble just begging for my teeth to stake their claim on it. I run my tongue over my plumped bottom lip, picturing how godly it would feel to nip at his succulent, pale skin above his throbbing pulse.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," Matty murmurs with a hint of promise, his words melting into a low moan when Zayn tightens his grip around his hair, “You’ll get your turn.”

Zayn's eyes dancing between Matty and I. “Who said she’d get a turn, hmm?” He teases, raising a brow at me before turning to Matty, “Who said you get to stop?”

Matty’s eyes glint at Zayn’s tone, “Drop the tone, yeah?” His hands playing with the elastic band of Zayn’s boxers, his index finger hooking under it. “I’ll give you what you want.” A quick yank of the material and Zayn’s boxers fall to his ankles, revealing his hard cock. The ruby red tip bubbled with precum at the slit, slowly dripping down before Matty catches it with the tip of his tongue.

Matty’s eyes never leave mine for a second as his mouth slowly descends to Zayn’s cock, his hand wrapping around the base for support. The way he takes him in slow and deep, my breath hitches imperceptibly. I can see the muscles tense in Zayn's neck and thighs as his eyes flutter shut. Matty repeats this teasing torture until Zayn can no longer hold back.

“Fuck—look at you, Healy. Who knew you were such a fuckin’ cock slut?” Zayn chuckles, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. But Matty doesn't falter, continuing to work his magic, his lips glistening with saliva and pre-cum.

As I watch the two of them, I feel a surge of desire coursing through my veins. I'm overwhelmed by the sight of Matty sucking Zayn's cock so expertly, their bodies pressed together, their breaths ragged and heavy. My hand travels down my stomach to my wet core, my index finger teasingly tracing circles on my clit.

The sounds of Matty’s wet mouth sliding up and down Zayn’s cock fill the room and I whimper, my arousal almost unbearable. I try to focus on their passionate display, willing them to notice my desperation clusters at the base of my throat, but they continue to ignore me, consumed by their own pleasure.

Matty's lips glide up Zayn's shaft, trailing along the underside, and then he engulfs him once again, sucking harder this time. My breath catches in my throat, and I thrust two fingers inside my weeping cunt, imagining it's both of their cocks inside me, pulsing, throbbing and stretching me out in a way I’ve never felt before.

Zayn yanks Matty by his curls, forcing his head to look in my direction. “Look at our fuckin’ little slut. So fuckin’ desperate, isn’t she? Fingering her slutty little cunt like it’s comparable to us, huh?”

“Please—please! S’need my boys.” The whimper that leaves my mouth makes me sound like a lost lamb, and my cheeks flush with embarrassment. But I don't care, the need is too intense. I pull my fingers away and lick them clean, wanting to taste the wetness they caused.

Matty hums out, “Maybe we should give her what she wants...” He places his lips around Zayn’s leaking tip, giving it a quick and hard suck before releasing him with a pop, and standing up from his knees. Matty’s hands grip the back of Zayn’s neck, their lips colliding with a force that

sends shockwaves through my entire body. I watch in fascination as their tongues entwined, their lips locked in a passionate embrace.

“Give our girl what she wants, hmm?” Matty growls, breaking away from the kiss just long enough to address Zayn.

Zayn, with a smirk, turns his attention back to me. “You want that, petal?” He steps closer, his hard cock bobbing in front of me, and I can't help but lick my lips in anticipation.

“Yes...Yes, please. Need it.”

Both of the men laugh as Zayn positions himself next to me and Matty stands at the foot of the bed. Matty doesn't break his gaze from us as he slowly pulls down his boxers, revealing his toned and sculpted thighs. My eyes trace every contour and muscle, captivated by the sight. Zayn watches him lustfully as he does so, their connection palpable.

Matty smirks at me and climbs onto the bed at my feet, spreading my legs wide as he kneels between them. “Look how wet you are, Sweetheart.” He groans out before his tongue tracing the outline of my pussy lips before dipping inside, tasting the sweetness that's dripping from my hole.

Matty uses both of his thumbs to pull me apart as he mutters, “So pretty—so fuckin’ pretty, sweetheart.” He harshly spits directly on my engorged clit. My hips jerk upward as a shudder runs through me. He groans against my folds, his tongue dancing faster and delving deeper as he works me open, filling me with longing and need.

“You like the way his tongue feels, petal?” Zayn whispers in the shell of my ear. I almost forgot he was even in the room but I’m quickly reminded as his forefinger and thumb tweak at my left pebbled nipple.

“Shit!” I cry out as Matty’s thick fingers find their way inside my hole, stretching me wider until both are buried inside me with a single thrust.

Zayn grins wickedly, his cock twitching with anticipation. "You want it, don't you, petal?" he growls, leaning down to nibble on my earlobe. I nod vigorously, my eyes locked on Matty's skilled fingers working my pussy.

Meanwhile, Matty is still going to town on my clit, his skilled tongue flicking and dancing, while his fingers thrust in and out of my core. My entire body is trembling with pleasure, and I can feel the orgasm building up inside me like a tidal wave.

“Enough.” Zayn calls out, “She doesn’t get to cum unless she’s wrapped around both of us.”

Matty pulls his face from my cunt, his pink lips now a deep shade of red and soaked with my wetness along with his chin slick. He looks up at Zayn with an almost hungry expression, his brown eyes glistening under the dim light. “How you wanna do this, Z?” Matty questions.

Zayn effortlessly pulls me on top of him, our chests pressed together as our eyes lock. “Straddle me, petal.” he commands softly.

Matty's touch is gentle yet firm as his hands wrap around my hips, guiding me onto my knees. My hands tremble slightly as they press on either side of Zayn's head, supporting me in this position. Matty’s hand caresses the skin at my hip as Zayn’s hand reaches in between us, gripping his cock, teasingly tapping my pussy.

“You sure?” Zayn whispers, his voice velvety smooth. Matty chimes in, “You’re in control, Sweetheart.”

Looking over my shoulder at Matty, I nod. “Yes, I’m sure.”

I want this. I want both of them.

“Same time, yeah?” Zayn mutters out as I lower my head into his neck, dropping to my forearms. The stretch is like nothing I’ve ever felt before, it’s almost painful as both of their thick tips push past the muscles of my opening in unison.

I scream out in sheer agony and ecstasy, tears streaming down my cheeks as they solidify their claim on me. "Oh fuck," I moan out. This is beyond anything I've ever felt before; it’s intense and primal. My body trembles beneath them both as they take over control, their movements perfectly in sync with each other.

“Fuck! Take it all.” Matty groans out as they both bottom out. Zayn grunts out at the feeling of Matty’s cock sliding against his and my walls clench around both of them. “Our girl feels fuckin’ phenomenal.”

As the room fills with their lust-filled moans and pants, I feel my mind going hazy from the intensity of it all. “S’full. Feel so f-full, God!” I don’t even recognize my own voice as I cry out, the sensations overwhelming me completely.

“You good, petal?” Zayn asks gently, his tone a perfect blend of concern and desire. I nod, still trying to catch my breath. “Yeah... Ju— just give me sec.” Pulling myself from Zayn’s neck.

“Take all the time you need, sweetheart,” Matty assures me gently, his hand tracing soothing patterns on my lower back. I let out a shaky breath, still reeling from the intensity of being stretched this wide.

My eyes flutter closed, and I let out a soft moan as I focus on the feeling of their bodies surrounding mine. Every touch, and every movement seems ignite a fire within me, leaving me yearning for more.

“C-can I try something else?”

Zayn raises an eyebrow, a devilish grin forming on his face. “Go ahead, petal. Whatever you want, we're here for you.”

I take a deep breath and gather my courage. Pushing myself from Zayn’s chest, both of them moan out at the feeling as I stand on my knees. My chest heaved at the feeling of the different position. Matty’s chest meets my back as I lean back into him, the warmth of his body something I can't get enough of.

Zayn’s hands cupped my breast, and the other gripping my hip. Matty follows suit, his muscular arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me closer to him. “Feel good?” Matty bites at my earlobe, his warm breath sending shivers down to my core.

“M’not gonna last long if you keep clenching, petal.” Zayn cries out gripping my tit and hip in a bruising manner.

"Please fuck me," I beg, my voice breathy with want as I arch my back to press my ass towards Matty's lap. "Fill me up.” I groan out in desperation.

Matty and Zayn nod in sync, their eyes locked on each other, as they watch me flex my hips to get them to move. Both of them pull out just to thrust back into my pussy at force, their cocks stretching me once again with ease.

"You're so tight," Zayn grunts out between his thrusts. "So damn tight." Matty growls in agreement, "Fuck yeah," before he kisses his way down my jawline to my collarbone and continues to pump into me relentlessly. Their pace quickens until they are slamming into me without mercy, hitting that perfect spot again and again.

My pussy is on fire; it feels like it's gonna split in two by these two men who own me completely. The smell of our arousal fills the air and makes me even more turned on than before; it's intoxicating. Their skin slaps against mine in perfect harmony with each thrust.

I moaned loudly as Matty’s teeth gently nipped my earlobe, his rough hands tugging on my hair. His cock was still sliding in and out of me, harder and faster now. Matty's hips began to pick up the pace too, his hot breath fanning over my neck.

The feeling of both of them inside me was incredible, my body trembling with pleasure. I could feel their sweat mixing with mine, both of them panting heavily. Both of them were entering me at the same speed, and after only a few minutes my vision was going blurry.

“God sweetheart, y’so fucking tight,” I heard Matty huff out from behind me. I can see Zayn smirk in front of me, his hands reaching down to play with my puffy little clit. “Holy fuck,” Matty growled out, “You're so wet,” he added between thrusts, licking his lips subconsciously.

“Z-zayn...” I whined out. After one last lift of my hips, I was out of energy to continue riding Zayn. He thrust up into me only moments later, and it felt even better now that they were doing the work.

"Oh fuck," Zayn huffs as driving his cock deeper with every thrust. The head of their cocks hits my g-spot, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body. Zayn’s hands grip my hips tighter, pulling me down onto him as he pumps faster. He growls out, "Feels so fucking good."

“Can feel y’squeezin’ us petal, y’gonna cum already?” All I could do was nod, my head too hazy to respond. “Go on petal, y’deserve it.”

“C’mon, sweet girl. Cum around our cocks,” Matty asks against my ear, nipping lightly. “Soak us, sweetheart. You can do it— you can take it.” I moan in reply, unable to form words as they take me over the edge together. They are in sync like a well-oiled machine, pushing me closer and closer to the brink of orgasm with each thrust and moan filling the air around us.

I fall to Zayn’s chest as my whole body shakes, my pussy squeezing their cocks so hard it pushes them out of me. My pussy clenches reflexively around the empty space left by their withdrawal. The sound of liquid splashing onto our bodies filled the room.

Matty grips both his and Zayn's throbbing cocks in one hand, roughly rubbing my sensitive clit with the slick heads. A loud moan escapes my lips as the wet slaps of their skin against mine become faster and more forceful, echoing throughout the room.

“That's it, baby,” Matty growls, his teeth grazing my earlobe. “Let go. Drench us with your cum."

They both plunge back inside me simultaneously, their cocks filling me up once again. The feeling of being stretched wide open is overwhelming, almost too much for me to handle, but I know that I am safe with them, my two protectors. They slide in and out of me, the rhythm getting harder, faster, more unforgiving.

My eyelids flutter, feeling as though I have drifted into a realm beyond reality. Even in my hazy state, I can sense Matty and Zayn's breath against the crook of my neck.

“S’good.”

“Gonna fill you to the brim, S’promise.”

“Our girl.”

I don’t know who’s saying what at this point. All I know is that as the waves of pleasure crash over me, I can feel Matty's and Zayn's cocks pulsating inside me, matching the rhythm of my own heartbeat. Their thrusts grow more and more erratic, their bodies becoming one with mine in this ecstatic embrace.

“I’m cummin’,” Matty growled deep in his throat, the sound rumbling through his chest and sending shivers down my spine. And not even a second later I could feel Matty’s hot ropes of cum filling my tight hole. But Zayn showed no signs of slowing down, thrusting deeper and harder until he too reached his climax, coating my sensitive walls in a thick layer of white.

I can feel my body being moved, hear voices and gasps, and see flashes of light, but I am lost in the overwhelming sensation of being filled to the brim with their cum.

But I never want this to end—the feeling of being loved and cared for by my boys.

As I lay there, half-conscious, surrounded by Matty and Zayn, I felt their hearts beating on either side of me. The warmth of their cum spills out of me and the smell of our sweaty, mingled bodies fills the air. Their hands gently stroke my skin, calming me.

“Are you okay, petal?” Zayn whispers, his voice rough and tender.

In response, I only need to let out a contented sigh, my eyes fluttering open to look into the smoky depths of Zayn's gaze. The corners of his mouth curve into a warm smile, and I can sense the relief washing over him. Matty leans down, nuzzling into the crook of my neck, his breath warm and steady.

“Think I love the both of you.”

Matty chuckles softly, his fingers tracing lazy circles along my thigh. “Fucked ya that good, hmm?” he murmurs, pride evident in his tone. "We're here to give you everything you deserve."

Zayn's lips brush against my forehead as he whispers, "You're our girl. Always, petal.”

[sugar-coat-it]

The one where Matty reads smut to you

I don't know what to call this but it was fun to write! Shout out Matty reading part of 50 Shades of Grey in like 2015

Fem! Reader

Contains: dom! Matty, him making fun of her shitty romance novel, Matty reading smut to her, recreation of book scene, fingering in front of a mirror, blink and you miss it pussy spanking, praise (good girl)

WC: ~2.8k

—-------------------------------

Matty discovers his girlfriend’s secret reading habits and can’t resist recreating one of the scenes. 

—-------------------------------

You can feel Matty’s eyes on you without even having to look up from the pages in your hands. A smile twitches at your lips. It’s like a little game, pretending you can’t feel his gaze drinking you in, admiring the way the sunlight streams through the window. The way the light graces you, bathing your skin in glowing warmth. For a man who prides himself on his talent with words, he finds himself speechless. He doesn’t mind it one bit. 

You’d been immersed in your book for hours. Admittedly, it’s not high-brow reading in the slightest. But when life is so serious, sometimes a shitty, steamy romance novel is exactly the remedy you need. Sometimes, you like to disappear into the dynamics of someone else’s life where things are simple and clean-cut. Predictable.

Unhurried, Matty pushes his weight off of the doorframe, padding across the floor to you as you lay on the couch, your book comfortably resting in your lap. He leans down, his necklace dangling in front of your face as he brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear. Your eyes flicker away from the pages when you feel his lips press to your forehead with such tenderness that your heart swoons. You listen to his soft hum as you reach up to cup his face, your fingers naturally finding their place against his jaw. 

“Hi, baby. What have you got there?” he says softly, trailing a hand down your arm absentmindedly. 

“Just a silly romance book,” you answer, marking your page before handing him the book. 

He takes it from you, motioning for you to scoot over on the sofa to make room for him. Curled up at your side, Matty runs his finger down the spine of the book, observing the cover with a squinted, analytical stare. You already know he’s going to have plenty of opinions just from the art on the front alone. 

“You’re not gonna like it. I’m sorry, it’s not philosophical, foreign literature,” you joke, causing him to scoff. 

“Oh god. Don’t start with me, miss,” he murmurs, his eyes flickering over the title, “Well, I certainly don’t read about kissing and stuff but I’m not above trashy reading sometimes. I suppose I always thought these books were for grandmothers and like, desperate housewives.”

“They’re not just for grandmas and housewives!” 

“Alright, alright. Forgive me,” Matty chuckles, kissing your shoulder apologetically, “What’s this one about then?”

You give him a look. An untrusting one. Matty looks at you right back, cocking an eyebrow.

“You’re gonna laugh at me.” 

“No, I won’t. I swear. Tell me.”

Sighing, you watch as he cracks open the book, beginning to leaf through the pages, smirking to himself as he scans over words with eager eyes. He nudges you with his elbow expectantly, waiting for a synopsis of the story that feels increasingly dumber and more cliche the more you think about how to explain it. But, damn it, you’re allowed to read something silly and romantic in your free time if you want!

"She's a princess and he's the knight bound to protect her. He's kind of roguish, and she's never really experienced anything, she's bound to the castle most of the time but she’s still a badass. They fall in love even though they know they can't,” you mutter, watching his smirk grow wider, clearly amused. “Ah, I see. Classic, cheesy, forbidden romance shit,” he nods, glancing over at you with a glint in his eyes (one that means he’s about to say something stupid). “Is the knight hot? Does he have a big sword?”

“Yeah. Huge,” you snort, making Matty cackle in response, flipping through random pages, only making you feel more on edge. You should survive this as long as he doesn’t come across a few particular parts…

He scans over a passage, his brows furrowing slightly as he goes, seeming thoroughly unimpressed by the author. You listen as he mutters the words to himself under his breath, practically being able to see how he’s mentally tearing it to shreds as his eyes catch over the sappy dialogue and paragraphs of woeful yearning. 

“Christ. How many times is she going to use the word ‘longing’? This is… terrible.”

“Would you stop being a critic for once? It’s sweet,” you protest, finding the pining endearing. You’ve always been a slow-burn lover at heart. 

Matty groans, yet he continues to read on, underwhelmed but curiously hooked at the same time. Just as you’d begun to lay your head on his chest to relax, he lets out a laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners with mirth. 

“Oh, he’s not just protecting her, he’s ‘trailing his calloused hands down her curves, his hands rough from years of wielding his sword’,” he reads before making an exaggerated moan, fanning himself with his hand dramatically. 

You feel your stomach drop. You know exactly what chapter he’s reading from and it only gets more indecent from there. You pick your head up, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as, to your horror, he begins to read directly from the pages. 

“‘Her breasts heaved as he unhooked her corset, his rough hands against her pale skin as he lays her on the silken sheets’. Wow, I take it all back, this is better than I thought, you didn’t say they fuck.”

You sputter, realizing you should have known better than to let him get his hands on your novel. You’re never going to hear the end of this now. God help you, the look on his face is absolutely wicked. 

"But it's not just physical between them! He loves her more than anything and wants to show her what she’s been deprived of,” you shake your head, trying to snatch the book back to no avail, “You don’t get it, it’s for the girls, Matty.”

Matty rolls his eyes, chuckling at the heated scene that is unfolding on the pages before him, holding the book out of your reach. “Sweetheart, you can defend it however you want, this is absolutely filthy. You’re sitting here, casually reading pornography. Doesn’t matter if it’s ‘girly’.”

He leafs through the pages with the intent to get you thoroughly worked up, jabbing his finger at the page when he finds a particularly lewd section. He’s having far too much fun with this and he knows it.

“I mean, seriously, listen to this part. ‘His stare was piercing through her as he let her feel the stiffness of his pulsing member.’ Babe,” he chuckles in disbelief, “Horrid word choice there, so unsexy. I mean, just say dick.”

“Matty! Are you seriously doing this right now? Give it back,” you protest with heated cheeks, trying to reach for the novel just for Matty to hold it further away from you. 

“No, no. We’re just getting to the good parts now, lemme see,” he grins wolfishly, curling up closer to you so his lips are brushing against your ear, “‘Maneuvering her to sit in front of the tall, gilded mirror, the knight slips her silk nightgown over her waist. With his fingers on her delicate jaw, guiding her gaze forward, he lets his opposite hand smooth down her body…’”

You can feel the air between you change as the detailed, obscene words begin to slip from his lips with ease. He has one hand holding the book while the other slides over your waist, stirring warmth inside of you as he gently moves his fingers back and forth. His tone has dropped down to a low, sultry murmur, a shiver racing down your spine at the slight rasp in your ear, the hairs standing up at the back of your neck. The tips of your ears burn every time he emphasizes dirtier words, rubbing little circles against your hip as he drawls to you about how the knight is tearing off her panties. The chapter is salacious enough as is, but the way he reads it to you makes it feel downright foul. 

“... ‘She could feel an unfamiliar pressure building inside of her as he slowly curled his calloused finger upward, his thumb rubbing in tight circles against her heat, staring at her through the mirror’s reflection’,” Matty whispers, his breath hot, fanning against your skin.

He’s having a harder time focusing on the words when he can feel you getting increasingly warmer as you cling to his side, the heat radiating off of your skin from beneath your clothes. He doesn’t miss the way your hips squirm slightly, the crackling tension thickening the air between you as he reads. Matty can’t help but glance at you periodically, the unmistakable lust in your lidded eyes making him ache. 

You can’t take it any longer, it feels like your entire body is buzzing with need, warmth coursing through you endlessly, pooling deep inside of you. You cut him off mid-word by turning your head and pressing your lips to his heatedly. Matty moans into your mouth, letting the book tumble to the floor as he moves to roughly grasp your hips with both hands, pulling you flush against his frame. 

“Dirty girl,” he mumbles against your lips, kissing you with enough fervor to make your head spin. 

Your hands cling to his shirt, letting his tongue slip past your lips as his eager fingers roam, groping and feeling you as he pleases. Your breath shudders as Matty pulls away to mouth under your jawline, alternating between heated kisses and nips of his teeth. 

“Does it get you hot when you’re reading it, babe? Thinking about the knight fucking his princess?” he rasps, grabbing a handful of your ass. 

You can only whimper in response, your head tilting back to give Matty more room to continue his loving assault on your neck, kissing and sucking at your sensitive skin. 

“Yeah, I bet it does,” he mumbles, laving his tongue over a faded love bite just above your collarbones. 

Matty slides his hands to the backs of your thighs, scooping you up with your legs around his waist. As he carries you from the couch to your bedroom, you can’t resist grinding a little against the front of his gray sweatpants, feeling him twitch beneath the fabric. He digs his fingers into your hips, you’re not quite sure if it’s as a warning or to encourage you. You love it either way. 

Just as you think he’s about to lay you down on the crisp sheets of your bed, Matty lowers you to the ground in front of your floor-length mirror, pulling you to sit in his lap with your legs spread, just like in the book. He taps your thigh, signaling for you to lift your hips, allowing him to slide off your pajama shorts. 

With an approving sigh, Matty smooths his hands out over your inner thighs, making a shiver skitter down your spine with tingling warmth. He coos, settling his chin on top of your shoulder as he stares at your body through the mirror. 

“Aw, you really liked me reading to you, baby. Look at yourself. You’re soaked through,” he admires, parting your legs wider to allow you a look at your dampened panties.

Matty skims his hand up your thigh with a murmur of “don’t look away” as he starts to feel over the darkened fabric of your underwear. You shudder, your lashes fluttering at the sensations that begin to stir at just the light brush of his calloused fingertips. You can feel your cheeks flush brighter at this new perspective, watching the two of you in the reflection of the mirror, seeing not only Matty’s reactions but also your own. You get to see the expressions that Matty loves so dearly when he’s making you fall apart, telling you how pretty you are. You do look pretty like this, with your skin flushed and your chest heaving with desire. 

Agonizingly slowly, he presses two fingers against your panties, rubbing in little circles over your clit just to make you squirm in his lap. Matty kisses from the top of your shoulder to right under your ear, his breath hot as he watches you from the corner of his eye. His eyes are intense, darkened with urges.

Steadily, he hooks his fingers under the fabric, sliding the soaked material to the side with a groan that rumbles against your back. A gasp is ripped from your lips as he parts you with his fingers, exposing you to him with frustratingly gentle pressure. You can tell he’s restraining himself tonight. Even though he’s itching to have you writhing, he slowly dips his thumb into your pooling arousal, his digit slick as he finds your clit with practiced ease. 

Your eyes roll at that feeling of first contact, sensations coursing through you as you get your first lick of relief. Matty traces firm circles, his other hand moving to grasp your breast, thumbing at your nipple over your shirt. 

“Matty, faster, please,” you pant, your voice wavering with need.

“Shh, this is how it went in the book, hm? He was so gentle with her, isn’t that right?” he mutters, dismissing the way your hips jump, aching for friction. You can’t stand it. He’d whined about how awful your book was, but now he’s treating it like gospel, refusing to stray from how the scene was written. 

Once he’s satisfied with how long he’s been lazily circling your clit, Matty picks up the pace just enough to make you whimper, still in control of your pleasure. His brows pinch together as your hips rock heedlessly on top of him, both of your eyes glued to his hand between your thighs. You can feel him, stiff and twitching beneath his sweats as the heat continues to bloom between you. Slowly, he starts to sink one finger inside of you, curling it just so. It’s obscene to watch.

“That’s it. Show me how much you like it,” Matty whispers, dragging his lower lip along your earlobe, “What does he do next?” 

“What?” you mumble, too caught up in the feeling of your brain melting down your spine to understand the question. Matty smirks with the satisfaction of rendering you wonderfully dumb. 

“In the book, darling. What does he do to her next?” he finishes, landing a firm spank on your cunt, relishing in your cry, “You didn’t let me finish readin’ ‘cause you got impatient, didn’t you, sweet girl? Always just gagging for me.”

You try and gather yourself enough to speak as Matty presses on your clit, your head lolling back against his shoulder. He moves his hand from your tits to your inner thigh, holding open your trembling legs in his secure hold.

“C’mon, talk to me,” he says with a kiss to your neck, encouragingly rubbing his thumb against your soft thigh, “I know you remember.”

“He… he has her look into her own eyes as he makes her cum.”

Matty whistles lowly, impressed, sounding like he’s sorry he didn’t think of doing that to you first. He reaches for your chin, grasping it to tilt your head down, watching you meet your own stare in the mirror. 

“Good girl, stay like that for me,” he murmurs, keeping his fingers splayed across your jaw. 

You watch as your eyes widen the moment Matty begins to swiftly move his thumb, pumping his finger in and out of you. Your brows furrow with a shuddering moan, your mouth dropping open. You grasp his wrist with urgency, feeling yourself approach the edge almost mortifyingly quickly as you pant and writhe on top of him.

“See how pretty you look when you’re about to cum? I fucking love that look. I live for it,” he grins, “That’s it, just let it happen, my love.” 

He tightens his hold on your jaw, reminding you to watch your face as you feel it wash over you in waves of relief through your whole body, your expression contorting with pleasure.

“Ah, fuck!” you cry, listening to him mutter breathy sighs of “Good fucking girl” and “Yeah, that’s right” in your ear. 

Once you go slack against his body, Matty withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips to suck them clean, obscenely sliding his tongue between them while you catch your breath. 

“I reckon I did it better than him, what do you think?” he smirks, his voice muffled around his digits. You shake your head hazily as he lets go of them with a wet popping sound.

“You’re insufferable…”

“You love me. You looove me so badly,” he sings, grasping your sides lovingly as he presses his lips to your cheek.

You do love him. Badly. Even if you’re never going to hear the end of how terrible your book choices are.

[toomuchracket]

caffeine overload (barista matty x reader smut)

promptober. this is so soft!! i almost cried writing!! enjoy <3

you wake up to an aching body and an empty bed.

it's the latter that bugs you most, though - it's 10am on a sunday, matty's day off, you're in his bed, and he's nowhere to be found. wincing as you do, you reach towards his side of the bed, only to discover the sheets - while rumpled - are cold; he's been up for a while.

bastard. what's the point of having a boyfriend with nice arms if you can't wake up in them?

fuck it. you might as well get up and find him. plus, your throat is dry, the kind of soreness that can only be achieved by drinking copious amounts of vodka-based concoctions, the kind of soreness that can only be alleviated by drinking a pint of cold water in one go. with great effort, you pull yourself out of bed and matty's sweatshirt over your head, shuffling out of the bedroom at a snail's pace. when you reach the hallway, you speed up slightly as the smell of fresh coffee wafts its way to you from the kitchen, the promise of both caffeine and matty spurring you on.

stepping onto the tiled floor in bare feet makes you hiss, which in turn makes matty look up. he's at the breakfast bar, reading a book - one you gave to him in recommendation, actually - and he smiles softly as soon as he sees you. god, he's beautiful. “hi, baby,” his voice is even softer than his face. “y’alright?”

“no.”

“no?” he looks panicked, rushing to you and gently holding your face. “you're not feeling well?”

“no, i don't even have a headache,” you wrap your arms around his waist, smushing your face into him. “i'm not alright because you weren't in bed when i woke up,” tilting your head, you give him the sad eyes - slight overkill, maybe, but you secretly love playing into the girlfriend role like this. “wanted a cuddle.”

“oh, darling,” matty's face softens again, and he moves his arms around your shoulders to hug you properly. “m'sorry, sweet girl. i just figured you'd maybe want to sleep for a while, and i could go and make coffee for you waking up.”

you pull back slightly, brows raised in interest. “is there coffee for me?”

he kisses your nose. “coffee and a cookie in the oven.”

“you're a dream, healy.”

“i try. sit down, darling, i'll get you breakfast,” matty drops a kiss onto the top of your head as you oblige, perching yourself on a stool while he faffs about with the fancy coffee machine you think is both slightly pointless (his coffee shop is literally downstairs) and scary to use by yourself (why on earth are there so many buttons?). “so,” he slides you a big glass of water, which you gulp down eagerly. “how are you genuinely feeling this morning?”

“so, so tired,” as if to prove your point, you yawn. “but my head is fine, and i don't feel pukey. my limbs are aching, though. like, proper sore.”

“well, that's what happens when you dance for three straight hours, sweetheart.”

the smile in his voice is obvious. you glare at his (very nice-looking) back. “m'never going anywhere run by your friends ever again.”

“nah, ross said you and the girls were great fun. you're welcome back anytime, apparently.”

still, you grumble. “can't believe you didn't tell me it was his bar,” you sip your water. “or that he was so attractive. i mean, really, one friend group should not contain so many good-looking people. s'unfair.”

matty cackles. “i'm gonna tell the girls you said that.”

“no, they agreed. we had this discussion yesterday. they're all in love with ross, now.”

he winces. “i don't think any of them would be able to handle ross,” matty turns to face you. “even you might struggle, to be honest.”

your eyes widen. “oh, you mean, like…?”

“oh, yeah. he's a proper dom, that one,” matty winks. “not like either of us.”

interesting. “have the two of you ever-”

“fucked? nah.”

you roll your eyes. “i was gonna say shared someone, but alright.”

“haven't done that either,” the oven beeps, and matty carefully removes the delicious-smelling chocolate-chip treat, before smirking at you. “why? you interested?”

you shrug. “maybe. if everyone wants to. i don't mind.”

“i can ask him - careful with that, it's hot,” your boyfriend slides the cookie and a set of cutlery to you, which you excitedly thank him for before tucking in. “he thinks you're fit, so he might be up for it.”

“he does?”

“told me last night that he ‘understands why i've been spending all my time with you,’” matty smiles, pouring espresso and oat milk into a mug. “you know, when you phoned me at half 11 to come and pick you up because you missed me too much.”

“shut up,” you can feel your cheeks burning. “too many people were ordering espresso martinis. it made me miss you.”

he reaches across to caress your cheek. “oh, my sweet, clingy girl. you're so weird.”

“you literally make the cold brew that goes into them. it would be weird if i didn't think about you when someone got one,” you take the final bite of your cookie. “and don't you try to pretend you didn't absolutely love me calling you. could hear you smiling from all the way down the street.”

“yeah, i did love it. i love being your boyfriend, and getting to take care of you,” while you swoon, he places a latte in front of you, foam art designed in a heart shape. “speaking of, d'you want a shower? might help your post-dancing pains.”

“ooh, yeah,” you sip your coffee, sighing happily. “can i hop in now?”

“of course, darling,” matty smiles when you kiss his cheek; his brow furrows when you get up to leave the room, though. “you're taking the latte with you?”

“why wouldn't i?”

he shakes his head. “you really are weird, darling.”

“and you're into me regardless,” you wink, and he giggles. it's adorable. “i won't be long, babe.”

true to your word, you're out in fifteen minutes, body soothed by the combination of hot water and matty’s shower gel. once you're dry, clad in his jumper and boxers, you pad through to the living room and climb onto his lap on the sofa. “hi.”

“hi, baby,” matty kisses your head, reaching to mute the tv before wrapping his arms around you. “feeling better?”

“yeah. still a bit tired, but-”

“oh, i can help with that,” he lets go of you long enough to hand you a full, steaming mug of coffee from the little table beside you. “started making it when i heard the shower turn off.”

“you're so sweet, matthew,” you coo, taking a long drink of the coffee before kissing your boyfriend on the cheek. “making me coffee, putting the fire on, buying me cleanser and moisturiser to keep here - that was really thoughtful, by the way, angel. thank you.”

he giggles, hiding his face in your neck. “i just like making you happy.”

“you're really good at it,” once you've laid the coffee back on the table, your hands find their way onto matty's face. “and you're so pretty!”

“oh, shush,” he rolls his eyes, cheeks warming under your hands. “you're the pretty one, we both know this.”

“mmmm, no.”

“mmmm, yeah.”

“no, you're-”

“cookie, my darling, you're not winning this argument. trust me, babe,” matty leans back, eyes raking up and down your body in a not-particularly-PG-but-very-sexy manner. “especially not when you're wearing my clothes.”

“you like it when i do that?”

“fuck, yeah,” he grins, cheeky. “s'my favourite look of yours. well,” he corrects himself. “second favourite.”

“the first's when i'm naked, isn't it?”

“is it creepy if i say yes?”

“matty, you're my boyfriend,” you roll your eyes. “i want you to like it when i'm naked.”

he presses his forehead to yours. “i love it.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” his lips meet your forehead, your nose, your lips - the kiss is quick, but as good as ever. “you're fucking gorgeous. like, sex thoughts aside… you just look so beautiful when you're not wearing anything. i mean, you're always beautiful, but,” he smiles against your lips. “i think you're really stunning when you're at your barest like that. dunno if it's a trust thing, or just to do with how deeply i feel for you anyway, but… yeah.”

jesus. you're not a believer in the concept of absolute perfection, but matty definitely comes pretty bloody close; you'd give him that accolade for the way he kisses you back alone. detaching your lips when you risk getting too lightheaded, you giggle softly into him, a sound he copies. “you're my favourite, you know,” you kiss him again, smiling against him when he moans into your mouth. “and if you wanted to see me naked right now… i'd be quite up for that.”

matty smiles. “thought you were tired, darling?”

“nuh-uh,” you shake your head. “the caffeine's done its job. maybe a little bit too well, actually,” another kiss. “i want you, matty.”

he groans, burrowing his head into your neck; you join in with the chorus when his lips meet the soft skin there. “how do you want it, cookie?”

“i want - oh, fuck,” you whimper, hand coming up to clutch your boyfriend's hair as he nips at your neck. “want it on the floor…”

“dirty girl.”

“... in front of the fire,” the words come out as a strangled groan, matty sucking marks onto your body sending heat flooding within it. “want you deep, and slow, and filling me up. yes,” you cut him off, noticing his mouth opening as if to talk. “i want you to cum inside me.”

“i thought you didn't like that?”

“no, i didn't like it with anyone else,” you bite your lip, well aware of what you're about to say. “but you… i think you should mark what's yours.”

“god,” matty's voice is shaky, more breath than sound. his forehead meets your shoulder, and you smile as you caress the back of his head while he inhales deeply. sweet boy.

the sweetness doesn't last long, though - he hooks his hands under your arse and lifts you, still biting at your neck as he carries you to the soft rug in front of the fire. you've been obsessed with matty's fireplace since the first time you saw it, fascinated by the crackling flames illuminating and warming up the room; they're very reminiscent of how matty lights you up, and manages to send heat coursing through your body. like now, for instance, as he kneels to carefully lay you down on the fabric and his thumbs find the waistband on your shorts on their way back round to the front of your body… yeah, you're turned on.

and he knows it, the little shit, grinning stupidly when you bite your lip. “alright, cookie?”

you pout. “matty…”

“yeah, darling?” he kisses your nose, and a fresh set of butterflies take off within you. “what d'you want?”

“please take my clothes off,” you roll your hips up into his, biting your lip when he groans softly. “and yours. wanna see you.”

matty coos, leaning back to pull his t-shirt over his head. the fabric is thrown onto the sofa, closely followed by your (well, his) sweatshirt, and he beams at the sight of your bare chest. “perfect girl.”

“pretty boy,” you rake your nails down matty's chest, just hard enough to make him moan, hooking them into the waistband of his sweatpants. “can i?”

“please, yeah.”

“mmmkay,” you slide the grey fabric down, beaming when matty moves to kick it off his legs and you see what's underneath - which is, to say, absolutely nothing. “matthew, you little slut.”

“says the woman begging me to get her naked,” he retorts, pulling your shorts off and pushing your legs back; his pupils dilate at the sight of your glistening core. “fuck, cookie, is this all for me?”

you nod enthusiastically. “all of it,” your voice is breathy with desperation, words turning to a wanton moan as you watch matty stroke himself while he looks at you. “take what's yours, please. put it in, baby, ple- oh, just like that.”

“oh my god,” matty slowly pushes into you, moving to rest on his elbows at either side of your head. his forehead rests against yours, chests pressed together and breathing slowly in tandem as he finally bottoms out; it's the most intimate the two of you have been with each other so far, and - in the best possible way, of course - you're feeling a little bit overwhelmed. matty being matty, lovely and attentive, he notices, shifting his weight onto one elbow so he can softly stroke your cheek. “you alright, my girl?”

you nod. “yeah, angel. just full.”

your heart, too.

“d'you need a minute like this, darling?”

“if that's okay,” you kiss his nose. “like having you close to me.”

matty beams, and it makes your heart feel funny. “so do i. we'll stay like this as long as you want.”

“thank you,” you smile, lightly scratching his scalp the way he likes. “can i have a kiss, please?”

he doesn't answer. instead, matty presses his lips to yours, tongue languid as it traces across your cupid's bow and licks into your mouth when you open it in a soft moan. it's just as passionate as ever, but slow, drawn-out, and just completely ruinous to you; your cunt tightens around him, desperate to be even closer to your boyfriend than you already are, probably as a result of his mouth kissing away any thoughts in your head that aren't him. your hips begin to roll, matty's follow suit, and - still kissing - soon enough, he's fucking you exactly how you wanted him to, slow and deep and so fucking good. 

you're not even sure you can call it fucking, actually, the sex you two are having right now; neither of you have said the important word to each other, yet, but there's really no other way to describe this activity as anything other than lovemaking. not that you've ever done that, or ever actually been in love with anyone, but the word seems like an accurate term for right now, when you feel like you'd die if matty was any further away from you than he currently is, and you’re desperate to make him happy, to make him make those gorgeous little moans that fall from his lips whenever you clench around him or roll your hips just so, to make him kiss you so hard it leaves you both breathless.

he pulls away from your lips slightly after one such kiss, just enough that he can look at you properly; when he does, his face cracks into a gorgeous smile. “hi.”

“hi,” you smile back, caressing his cheekbone. “having fun?”

“s'an understatement,” matty laughs, groaning as he fucks into you again. “only one thing that could make this better for me, actually.”

“s'that?”

he ducks his head down, licking a long stripe up your neck to your lips. “you letting me make you cum.”

fuck. “yes, please.”

another kiss, a smile against your lips. “so good for me. cum whenever you're ready, yeah?”

you smirk. “you don't want me to beg?”

matty shakes his head. “not today, cookie. want you to take what you deserve.”

“okay,” you kiss him, moaning into his open mouth when a calloused thumb finds your clit, circling with practised precision. “fuck, baby, you're so good,” the two layers of stimulation feel amazing, proven by you audibly getting wetter as matty keeps thrusting, slow and deep and sexy. “so fucking good.”

“love feeling you like this,” your boyfriend groans, burrowing his head into your neck. “could stay like this forever. and i would, if you wanted me to,” he kisses your neck, gentle, before moving to look at you again. those pretty eyes of his are hazy, his cheeks are flushed, and he's never looked more beautiful. “i'd do anything for you, darling.”

the overwhelming intimacy of the morning reaches breaking point; so do you, imminent orgasm the only thing preventing you from giving in and saying the word that's been dancing on the tip of your tongue whenever you've so much as thought about matty lately. instead, you cling to him, whispering against his lips. “m'so close.”

matty whines, hips and hand keeping up their movements, despite the fact you can feel him shaking above you. “c'mon, cookie,” his words are punctuated with kisses, desperate liplocks that you can't quite decide are meant to fuel him or tip you over the edge. both, probably. “let go for me, my darling. give in, let me give you what you deserve, perfect girl.”

that's all you need.

“fuck, matty,” you press your face into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, whimpering into his sweaty skin as pleasure careens through your trembling body. it's the strongest orgasm you think you've ever had, every little subsequent aftershock devastating to you; when one of them coincides with matty's orgasm, it actually sets you off fully again, moaning in harmony with him as he pulses heat deep inside you. “oh my god.”

“jesus,” matty groans into your hair, fucking shallower and shallower into you as he stops cumming. once he's done, he practically falls onto you, resting his head on your heaving chest - there's silence for a minute, aside from heavy breathing and the crackling of the fire, and then he lifts his head up to peek at you. “how you feeling, cookie?”

you nod, trying to find the words. “like i just had the best sex i've ever had.”

your boyfriend laughs, leaning up to kiss you sweetly. “i'm feeling the same.”

“really?”

“yeah,” he brushes a bit of hair from your face. “that was really special, baby. meant a lot to me.”

“me too,” you reach up to touch his face, mirroring his action with you. “never felt like this before, y'know. so safe, so cared for,” you smile bashfully. “or so beautiful, actually.”

“oh, darling,” matty kisses your forehead. “m'glad i can make you feel so good. all i wanna do, to be honest.”

“sweet boy,” you smile. “can we stay like this for a while?

he smiles back, and you have to bite your lip from blurting out how you actually feel about him. “of course.”

[whimsicalpolitical]

Family bonfire // Matty Healy x Reader

a/n: send me more requests, I love nothing more :) also I know it’s getting warmer and summer feeling but this gave me an autumn vibe.

summary: Matty and you spend some days with your family in your childhood house. Not only the fire gets hot in the evening ;)

content warning: 18+ smut, fingering,idiots totally in love, unprotected sex

based on this request

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As the sun dips below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the kitchen, you stand alongside your mum and sister, watching through the window as Matty and your dad work tirelessly to prepare the bonfire.

Your two brothers are running around the pile of logs, doing anything else besides helping both.

Every time Matty comes back with wood, he searches for your gaze in the window and every time he can catch a glance, he does.

You’re doing the dishes with your mum, while your sister is just sipping her green tea. You try to suppress a little giggle when Matty tries to wipe away the sweat with the sleeves of his brown cute lumberjack jacket.

Your mum glances at you, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "He's a good one, isn't he?" she remarks, her voice soft with affection.

You nod, your heart swelling with pride as you watch Matty and your dad laughing over something. “He really is,” you agree, a smile spreading across your face.

Your sister chimes in, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “And look at them bonding over chopping wood,” she teases, nudging you playfully.

“Dad wasn’t this open when I brought my boyfriend home,” she states. Your sister is only two years younger than you but she’s with her boyfriend for 5 years now. When she brought him home, your dad was skeptical if he would be the one.

With Matty it was different. It’s only the second time you’re together at your home and your dad seems to really like him. He hasn’t said any judgmental comments or asked him thousands of questions, which is always a good sign.

“That’s probably because he realized that the both of you have made great decisions.” You laughed because it’s definitely not the truth. Your dad just found it easier with Matty.

Together, you watch as Matty and your dad continue their work until the logs are stacked up perfectly. “Finally, come and help me get the chairs out,” your mum says to your sister. She takes the last sip of her tea and hands the cup to you.

Both leave the room and only seconds later Matty comes in, pulling the gloves off his hands, laying them on the table. “Hey lumberjack,” you giggle.

“Lumberjack? More like fucking legend,” he jokes, lifting his arms to show his biceps, walking towards you. “Had fun out there, especially with you watching me like a stalker.”

His hands find your waist, the coldness of his finders radiating to your body. You smack his chest at his comment, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation. "Please, you were practically posing out there," you retort, a teasing glint in your eye.

Matty tries to act offended, placing a hand over his heart. "I'll have you know, I take my wood-chopping very seriously," he declares, his tone overly dramatic.

You just laugh and get yourself a small kiss from his lips, humming as you pull away again.

As Matty's hands rest gently on your waist, you feel a shiver of anticipation run down your spine. His touch both comforting and electrifying, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along your sides, sending tingles of pleasure dancing across your skin. “Should we join them?” He asks, nodding towards the laughing people outside.

“In one minute,” you argue, wrapping your hands around his back, hugging him.

Matty chuckles, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your lower back. "clingy much?" he teases, his voice playful.

You leaned back slightly, meeting his gaze with a playful grin. "Can you blame me?" You reply, your tone light but sincere.

His lips curl into a fond smile, his eyes softening as he looks at you. "Not at all," he admits, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to your forehead.

You keep your head resting on his chest, meanwhile Matty watches as your dad tries to light the fire, the wind being a huge obstacle. “As much as I’m enjoying this, think we have to join your family.”

You groan as he removes his body from yours, kissing your cheek one more time to try to make this separation easier. He intertwines your fingers, walking outside the kitchen to join the others in the backyard.

“Matty,” your dad tells, “mind helping me light the fire?” He’s kneeling with a lighter and some tinder, to light the fire.

“Of course not,” you watch as Matty walks over to your dad, kneeling as well, holding his hands in front of the tinder, to keep the wind away.

Your other sister walks towards you with her boyfriends arms around her. In her hands, it’s Matty’s acoustic guitar. You look at her, lifting your eyebrows questioningly.

“Mum wants Matty to sing for us later,” she laughs, knowing it’s a bit awkward, “here.” She hands you the guitar, the material almost slipping through your hand. You lay it down gently against the wall, walking towards the chairs around the fire.

-

It’s 8pm when you’re all sitting around the fire, hands reaching out to the heat, trying to ignore the cold wind through your hair.

You pulled your chair right next to Matty’s so you can nuzzle into his comfortable jacket. “I can give you the jacket y’know?” He chuckles, his arm around your shoulder rubbing soothing circles into your arm.

You feel a warmth spreading through you, both from the jacket and the comforting presence of Matty beside you. "Nah, I like being close to you," you say, leaning into his touch.

Matty's smile widens, and he squeezes your shoulder gently. "Fair enough.”

Everyone’s busy talking, your mother discussing something with your sister, in their own world.

The fire lights up Matty’s face, his brown eyes glowing in the darkness.

You rest your head on Matty’s shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne mingled with the smoky aroma of the fire. "You know," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, "my mum really likes you."

Matty pulls back slightly, a surprised smile spreading across his face. "She does?" he asks, his eyes bright with curiosity.

You nod, a fondness shining in your eyes. "Yeah, she said you're the right one," you admit, feeling a surge of warmth at the memory of her mum's words.

Matty's smile widens, a hint of emotion tugging at the corners of his lips. "Well, I'm glad to hear that," he replies, his voice soft with sincerity. "Because I think her daughter’s the one for me”

Your heart swells at his words, his head leaning down to give you a soft peck which follows by gagging sounds of your 13 year old brother. You just flip him off, making Matty giggle.

Some time passed, the crackling of the bonfire filling the night air, casting a warm glow over the gathered family. Blankets are draped over shoulders, laughter echoe in the darkness, and the scent of roasting marshmallows mingle with the crisp autumn breeze. It is a scene straight out of a storybook, where time seems to stand still and worries melted away in the flickering light.

After your mums request, Matty sits on a weathered log, his acoustic guitar resting comfortably in his hands. His fingers dance effortlessly over the strings, producing melodies that seemed to weave themselves into the fabric of the night. His voice, rich and soulful, filling the air as he sings ‘be my mistake’, each note carrying the weight of emotion.

You feel a lump form in your throat as you listen to the haunting beauty of Matty's voice. The vulnerability in his tone sending shivers down your spine, and you can’t help but be moved by the raw honesty of his performance.

Some times when you’re asleep Matty sits down next to you, to sing to you. Most of the times, it’s be my mistake and it’s definitely one of your favorites.

“He's incredible," your sister murmured in your ear.

“Truly talented," you agree, nodding in appreciation.

And when the song comes to an end, the silence that followed is filled with whispers of awe and admiration.

You lean in close to Matty, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. "You were amazing," you whisper, your voice filled with love and pride.

Matty smiles, his eyes shining with gratitude. "Thanks, love," he replies, his voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire. "I'm just glad I could share it with all of you."

It’s already pretty late, your brother’s the first ones having to go to bed and you can’t wait to finally leave as well.

As the warmth of the bonfire envelope you, Matty can’t help but notice how close you are every second. He leans in, a playful smirk playing on his lips. "You're awfully cuddly today," he remarks, his voice low and teasing.

His hand finds your thigh, squeezing it slightly, his touch driving you insane. You shudder and give him a look. “Matty,“ you mutter, trying to free your thigh from his grip but he’s very persistent.

You let your eyes trace over his profile; the strong, curved line of his nose, dark stubble that’s flecked with a little grey. He thinks it makes him look distinguished. He catches you watching him out of the corner of his eye and squeezes your thigh again, kneading the flesh there.

You shift in the seat, open your legs wider, encouraging him to move higher. You think about pressing your lips against the juncture of his throat, inching your own hand over the front of his jeans, wondering if he’s already half hard. “In front of your family?” He tuts, “you know better.”

You look around, making sure no one is aware of the scene, when you lean in, whispering in his ear. “Take me inside,” you lean back, watching his eyes go dark before whispering a quiet ‘please.’

You bite your lip, almost letting out a whine when his hands leaves your thigh, to run it through is curls. “Fucks sake,” he mutters, “you were the one telling me I need to behave, and what now?”

It’s true. Before you left the car you told him he cannot hit on you in front of your family and he didn’t but it’s slowly driving you crazy, missing his touch.

He turns his head away from you when your sister’s boyfriend starts talking to him about tour. It is the subtle tension in his demeanor, the vein pulsating on his neck as he speaks, that draws your attention.

With a sudden impulse, you reach out and gently take Matty's hand, guiding it to rest on your thigh beneath the cover of darkness. His fingers tighten around yours, a silent acknowledgment passing between you as his gaze briefly meet yours, a spark of understanding flickering in the depths of his eyes.

“Behave,” he whispers, when your brother isn’t looking, too busy searching for his phone. You just stick your tongue at him, making him roll his eyes.

You fake a yawn, followed by you standing up, grabbing Matty’s hand, forcing him to stand up. “I think we’ll head to bed.” Matty glares at you, shaking his head in disbelief, a smile never leaving his mouth though. You thank your parents for everything and say your goodnight when you finally make your way into the house.

“You’re unbelievable you know that?” He says, following you into your room. The second the door is closed, you press him against the door, crashing your lips onto his. You don’t let him say anything else while you get rid of his jacket and his shirt under, tracing your hands all over his chest.

“Christ,” he groans, feeling your hands squeeze his bulge, “what’s gotten into you?”

You lead him to the bed but as fast as you’re on top of him the faster he has you on your back. “Are you out of your mind?” You bite down on his shoulder, “baby-“ he groans, pushing your head away from him. “C’mon, you know these walls are thin.”

You groan, knowing he’s right and you definitely don’t want an essay from your parents about how you should act. “Then be quiet, it’s not my fault you decided to touch my thigh and give me ‘fuck me’ eyes.” You roll your eyes dramatically.

“Fu- darling, can’t even look at you anymore without you getting all hot and bothered?” He smirks, “besides, we both know you can’t be quiet.”

“But I can,” it doesn’t come out as convincing as you wanted it too and Matty just raises his eyebrows, “c’mon just try okay? And when I’m not quiet we can stop.”

You place a hand on Matty’s chest. It’s crazy, but you can feel his heart pounding; the heavy rise and fall of his breath. He looks at you for a second, his lips on yours again. His hands finding your zipper and button of your jeans, opening them. He removes himself from you, pulling your pants down in one swift movement, then your panties.

His lips scrape against yours, parting so you can slip your tongue inside. Your lungs have left your body, leaving a hollow space in your chest, making it impossible for you to breathe. You feel lightheaded. But oh, the way he’s biting at your lips; tangling a hand in your hair and pressing against you. His leg is between your thighs and you practically melt on it, trying to grind on it, but he holds you down.

“Where did your patience go huh?” Your legs open to wrap around his waist. Matty groans, wanting to feel friction as well, grinding into your core one time.

He brings a finger to his lips; fixes you with a gaze that shows he’s serious. Be quiet. “I love nothing more than hearing you moan for me, not tonight love, be quiet okay?” You nod and gives you a kiss for your understanding.

You throw your head back and close your eyes. If you look at him for another second, you’re not going to be able to stop yourself from moaning. Even with the simplest gestures, he drives you crazy. You feel Matty reach his hand down between your legs. “Fuck,” you whisper.

Two seconds in and he has you gasping for breath. If you were wet before, you’re positively dripping now. You dare to crack open your eyes. Matty’s face is stoic with concentration, fixating on you, trying to make you stay quiet, and you can’t believe how incredibly turned on it makes you. He bites his lip slightly, and you think you might pass out. Looking was a mistake, but you can’t tear your eyes off him.

“What am I gonna do with you?” His thumb is rubbing your clit, while his fingers pump in and out of you, leaving you gasping, suppressing your moans, “you’re dirty, can’t even stay a few days without me having to make you cum.”

You ride his fingers until you forget your own name, and you already feel the coil tightening inside you. You grab Matty’s shoulders, pulling him to lean down over you. He kisses you. Rough and sloppy and frantic. You let out the smallest whimper into his mouth as you cum, hard, clamping your legs around his fingers.  “Didn’t know you can fucking listen,” his words are mean, teasing but his kisses say otherwise, praising you for being good.

“You’d do anything to cum,” he gets up, undressing his pants and getting rid of his boxers, only to be on top of you after only seconds, “can stay quiet again right? Can show me how good you can be?”

He puts a hand on your waist to steady you, and you feel him line up with your entrance. It takes everything not to scream as he slides into you. “Shh, love, you were a fucking beg, now take it.”

The stretch is intoxicating. You haven’t even recovered from your orgasm, but just the sight of him pausing after he’s buried inside of you, needing to collect himself, breathing hard. It’s enough to make you ache. “Please Matty.”

Matty is fucking into you, careful at first to stay quiet, but getting sloppier every second. He can’t pull out all the way for fear of slapping too loudly against your thighs, but the result is an incredible friction that has you soaring. You grab at his shoulders, his neck, and Matty lets you. When the pleasure has you tear open your eyes, you catch him watching you again. Enjoying the way you fall apart on his cock. It makes you clench around him even harder, and you catch the faintest whisper of a curse fall out of his lips as he leans forward, dropping his head to the crook of your neck. “Fuck,” you half whisper, half moan.

His eyes shoot up, ready to punish you if you are loud again. “Fuck, fuck,” you whisper into his ear.

“You have a filthy mouth,” you moan at his statement, not being able to hold it in anymore and the second another moan threading to leave your mouth, a hand is slapped over your mouth, the side of it slotting just under your teeth. Your heart pounds as Matty leans in to whisper to you again. “Bite down if you need to, don’t make another fucking sound.”

He continues to thrust inside of you, his body somehow lowering to get even closer to yours. When he has gotten sufficiently near, he presses a kiss to the side of your mouth—now stuffed with his hand and leaking spit—and mutters something about how good you are for him, how nicely you fit around his cock.

Then he tilts his hips and proceeds to pound you into the bed like an animal in heat. Your ankles lock behind his back, and his nose settles next to yours, breathing hard.

He couldn’t be more in awe seeing you veer close to the edge, again. “C’mon, cum for me.”

Then, he doesn’t sink so much as simply collapse on top of you while you both kicked back and let the waves of ecstasy roll over you. You adore his warmth in spite of the heat practically suffocating you both in that car. Matty scrunches his nose up, ripping his hand out of your mouth, a bite mark very visible and some blood dripping down.

“Fuck, sorry,” you apologize, taking his hand, gazing at the wound you created. “Don’t be, did what I told you to.”

You reach for a tissue and try to clean his hand, Matty hissing every second the fabric touches his hand. “You’re a fucking bear with those teeth.”

You giggle, the sound is replaced by a whine when Matty pulls out of you. “Told you I can stay quiet,” you wink, pulling him in for a kiss.”

“We can be very lucky if no one gives us shit tomorrow,” it’s not regret in his voice but more like a thrilling sound. He loved the secret.

“Mhm, very lucky,” your sentence has a double meaning and Matty understands it immediately, laughing before grabbing his shirt, pulling it over your head.

“Your mind is in the fucking gutter love,” he walks to the drawer to but on a pair of boxers before picking you up. “Use the bathroom, I’ll be waiting.” You smile and waddle over to the bathroom, your legs still shaking and Matty watching you with a goofy grin on his face.

[lonesome-sometimes]

up on the bookshelf

wheels on the bus 2 and it’s completely different because there is no bus or any form of transport at all really and matty is a librarian but it’s still wheels on the bus 2 (in the brat remix album cover format)

that was until a certain someone sitting behind the librarian desk caused you to drop them abruptly, sending a loud echo throughout the near silent building.

“matty?” you say in disbelief.

matty healy x female reader

content warnings: public sex, sweet service top matty, age gap, oral (female receiving), slight blood kink when you squint, lovey dovey stuff because I miss matty I’m genuinely a trainwreck right now

minors do not interact!

with your reading list in one hand, you huff in annoyance as you fail to find the last few textbooks you needed for the rest of the semester. admitting your defeat, you carry the rest of your books towards the front desk, already dreading the walk back to campus on the other side of town.

that was until a certain someone sitting behind the librarian desk caused you to drop them abruptly, sending a loud echo throughout the near silent building.

“matty?” you say in disbelief.

he looks up from the book he was engrossed in, startled by the loud thud. he takes a second to register who you were, scrambling to push his bookmark into place before turning his full attention towards you. “y/n? oh my go- hey! hey, how are you? god, I haven’t seen you since-”

“since the really, really long and awkward bus ride home with your wife in our presence after you-” you explain nonchalantly, causing the older to choke on his own spit as you remind him of your rest stop bathroom antics, not that he had ever forgotten.

he laughs nervously, pushing a hand through his shorter curls. “I mean, I guess? anyway, what are you doing here?”

“oh, I go to college here.” you say like its obvious, gesturing to nothing as you look around the empty room. “I just hate our campus library, or just our campus in general I suppose, so I come here to study and take my books out. It’s much quieter here, campus is too…studenty?”

he laughs with you, chuckling softly at how ridiculous it sounded. “I get your point, but aren’t you meant to like, enjoy all of that?” he thinks for a moment, shaking his head softly. “nevermind, that’s not the point. this is crazy, what a nice surprise I-”

“you have a moustache now.” you observe out loud, your tongue working quicker than your brain as your eyes lingered on his upper lip and the new strip of hair there, moving down towards the tight sleeves of his grey tshirt and admiring the way it hugged his frame perfectly. “...and you look like you’ve been working out…don’t tell me you…”

his cheeks tinge pink, swinging his chair slightly away from you as he lets out a nervous breath. “I told he, I mean, not about us! not exactly, I just told her how I felt and here I now am, working day shifts at the local library, waiting for my whole music thing to take off, while she vacates on some island somewhere with her neeew husband.” he draws out the new, politely taking a book from an older lady and wishing her a nice day, turning back towards you. “I’m happy here though, the people are nice and well, you’re here.”

It’s your turn to blush at his words, forgetting how sweet he had been with you in the bathroom moments after he had fucked your throat raw. “oh, come on matty, it’s not like you sat and dreamt about me everyday like a fairytale princess waiting for her prince to come…” you half joke half admit about yourself, causing his cheeks to turn a darker shade of pink at the comparison, his secrets spilling without having even said anything.

“oh I seeee.” you singsong as you lean forward, putting your hands on the desk so that you were leaning over him, letting your oversized tshirt fall off your shoulder slightly and revealing your collarbone. not the most flattering outfit you could have worn, but you weren’t exactly expecting your random one bus stand to show up anytime soon. “been thinking about me, matty?”

he visibly swallows, opening his mouth to answer but instead his eyes widen as a mother and daughter approach the desk. you stand up straight again, slightly embarrassed as you pull your tshirt centre again. you watch the exchange, matty smiling ever so sweetly as he hands the young girl her picture book and again wishes them a lovely day. he turns to you once more, sighing softly. “darling, I don’t think now is a good time, I’m working and-”

“matty, I managed to seduce you into fucking my throat with enough time for small talk afterwards inside the bathroom of a service station during a twenty minute rest stop, all while your wife-”

“-ex wife.” he corrects, smiling softly.

“...ex wife, was sitting back on the bus unaware of how her sweet little husband was crying for me and asking me about my favourite radiohead album, and you’re gonna sit here and tell me you can’t have a private conversation with me because you’re at work?”

theres a moment of silence as he looks between you and the empty room, standing up suddenly and grabbing your hand as he pulls you back towards an abandoned section of the library. smiling wide, you expect him to push you up against one of the old bookcases and start kissing you like a man starved as he pulls you in front of him, but it never comes.

Instead, he pulls you in. hands coming up around your waist, he hugs you. unexpected and unsure of what to do at first, you let your arms come up around his shoulders, pulling him in closer as you stroke the hair on the back of his neck softly, letting him breathe you in as you stay silent for a moment.

he pulls away, the both of you laughing as you realise how ridiculous this is, not having shared more than ten minutes alone together that didn’t include a quickie in a restroom. “everything okay, matty?” you ask, pushing his hair away from his face and letting your hand rest against his cheekbones as he nods.

“I wanted to erm, thank you, for helping me realise things about my life and marriage, I might not look like anything special at the moment but since meeting you I’ve been able to find my own place, I have a kitten who I adore, and I actually get to work on my music I-” he stops. “I’m really happy y/n, and I owe that to you.”

for a second you’re worried he’s being completely serious. “m-matty, you surely can’t fully believe I’m to blame for all that, you barely even know me I-”

he starts kissing down your collarbone, letting your tshirt fall again as he sinks down down down till he’s almost kneeling in front of you, his hands coming up towards your tshirt, breathing heavy. “no really darling, thank you so, so much.” he breaths, punctuating each so with a wet kiss to your stomach, kissing and licking at each expanse of skin he can reach. your hand comes up to cover your mouth, the other moving to hold the back of hid head through the fabric of your shirt. somehow this felt much more intimate, more naughty, than the restroom ever did.

he reappears from under your shirt, staring up at you with complete adoration as his fingers dance up your thighs and hooking themselves into the waistband of your leggings. “can I please?” he asks ever so politely, although your pants are already being pulled down low enough so that he can access where he wanted before you had chance to answer. your face was on fire.

“been thinking about doing this since I met you, wanted to taste you so bad darling.” he breaths out against you sending goosebumps across your skin, lips so close to you as he teases before finally settling on your core.

you desperately try to stay quiet, the fact that you were both in a library being some sick torture and punishment for engaging in infidelity beforehand because good god was he good with his tongue, licking and sucking at your clit like he was desperate. his large hands almost enveloped your waist, holding you in place as he began to fuck you on his tongue up against the shelf behind you. you thread your fingers through his salt and pepper locks, frowning when it was a little too short to pull. still, you let your fingers stay where they were, your lips bitten red as you tried to conceal your noises.

suddenly he stops, pulling away from you with only a trail of spit connecting the two of you, lips glistening with your wetness. you look down, brows furrowed in confusion as you try and catch your breathe. “w-why’d you stop?”

he giggles before diving in again like a teenager, his hands moving to hook around the backs of your thighs now. you moan around your fist, desperatly trying to stay as quiet as you can but failing miserably. he shushes you, the vibration from his vocal chords not helping your situation as you feel yourself quickly approaching the edge. “m-matty I-”

he pulls away for a small second, eyes wide and hungry. “please cum for me darling, need to feel you cum on my tongue-” he begs, quickly diving back in as he licks you through your orgasm, groaning softly as he feels you clench around his tongue, lapping at your folds as he cleans up your orgasm.

“fuck-” you bring a finger up towards your lip, blood pooling on your tongue from where you had to bite to keep quiet unless you wanted the whole library to hear you. he pulls your leggings back up and over your thighs, the both of you silently thanking somebody for the fact that nobody was looking for cooking books. he smiles up at you dopily, allowing himself to catch his breath before standing back up.

“good?” he breaths out, pulling your bloodied finger to his lips to lick it clean. You couldn’t find the words to answer, nodding as you watch his lips sucking your fingers entranced. He pulls off them with a pop, smiling at the way he left you speechless.

you both forget where you are until an older male comes around the corner, causing you both to jump away from each other. he doesn’t suspect much, why would he? shooting you both a small smile before turning and going back the way he came, sending you both laughing.

“so…” he begins as your giggles come to a stop, shuffling from foot to foot nervously. “I don’t actually finish up in here for another hour, but I could drive you back to campus? your books seemed heavy, and I’m guessing you don’t have a car…”

god, you were so smitten for him and you had only spent less than an hour with him alone at most. “...or I could come to yours?”

he smiles, thinking for a moment as you two start walking back towards the desk, to no surprise the place was still pretty much empty. “wanna see a picture of lilah?”

you squeal at the idea of singing his kitten, sending apologies to nobody at the sudden loud noise coming from you once again. “yes please.” you nod and whisper, the idea of seeing both matty and lilah filling you with warmth.

you were right, the local library was definitely better than the campus library.

[automaticllamacycle]

I did something bad

Summary: Making Matty a little jealous couldn’t hurt? Right?

Content: 18+, heavy dom sub, heavy spanking, choking, unprotected sex, slight breeding, subspace, dumification, degradation, basically this is filthy

Word count: 3803

Matty’s pissed. Absolutely pissed. It’s obvious by his silence in the driver’s seat. His hands grip the wheel tight, making his knuckles turn white. Tonight, he wore a few rings on each hand, a new addition to his fashion as of late.

You just wanted to rile him up a bit tonight. No harm intended. You just wanted to see his jealous side. What would happen if someone touched what’s his? So earlier tonight, when a man started to flirt with you at the bar while Matty was away in the bathroom, you played along. It was nothing serious of course, but you gave him your best fake laugh at his god-awful jokes. You knew you took it a step too far when Matty came back to the guy putting his hand around your waist to lead you away from the crowded bar. 

You had to beg Matty not to knock the guy out. He was totally livid. You’ve never heard his voice so loud and angry as he cursed the man out. Matty’s hands were balled up at his sides, ready to punch before you managed to pull him away. Seeing him that mad was nothing compared to the silence he’s giving you right now, though. It’s absolutely terrifying. You don’t dare try and talk to him at all on the way home. He parks the car in front of his house, slamming the car door shut. He walks straight in the door, not bothering to walk around and open your car door like usual. Once you step inside the house, Matty snaps. 

“What the fuck were you doing?” His face grows red with anger the longer he stands in front of you. He’s not yelling, but his voice is firm. Pure rage oozing through his words.

“I don’t know,” you reply. It was a stupid idea to try and get him mad in the first place. There’s no good way to talk your way out of this.

“Oh! You don’t know?” he pauses, taking a step towards you. Your back is pressed against the wall. His body corners you, keeping you in place. Matty’s hand rises to grip the chain on your neck, pulling your head forward. A little M charm hangs from the necklace. Perfectly discreet. Just a cute little piece of jewelry. But to you two, it’s so much more than a necklace. “Do you remember what this means sweetheart?” His voice is thick, and deathly serious.  You nod, not trusting your words, fully understanding how serious Matty is taking this. He gave you the necklace about two months ago. Before he put the necklace around your neck, he explained what it meant to him. How the necklace would symbolize your submission to him at all times. Only he could take it off your neck. You haven’t removed it since that night.

“Go on say it,” Matty asks, snapping you out of your train of thought.

“It means I’m yours.”

“That’s fucking right. You’re mine. Only mine. No one else’s. Mine. I own you.” Matty spits out.

You nod eagerly, eyes meeting the ground. His stare is too intense. Matty’s hand is back at your jaw the second you look down, forcing your chin up so you meet his eyes. “It looks like you need to be reminded who you belong to since that necklace isn’t enough. Go into the bedroom, take off your clothes, and wait for me. I’ll be in there in a second.” He backs away from you, giving you room to walk around him.

You begin to protest, lightly grasping his sleeve, wanting him to come with you. 

“Don’t you fucking start.” He rips his sleeve from your hand. “Obey me and go into the bedroom. I’m going to take longer to come in there now. Your feet carry you to the bedroom instantly, listening without hesitation. After discarding all your clothes to the floor, you sit on the bed and wait.

It’s at least half an hour before Matty opens the door and slowly walks in. His eyes burn into you, looking up and down at every part of your body. A mix of anger and lust clouds over his eyes. 

“Are you going to tell me what that whole show you put on was about?” He steps towards you to stand in between your legs, raking a hand through your hair to force you to look at him. The tug stings at your scalp. “Or am I going to have to force it out of you? I’m not going to take ‘I don’t know’ for an answer.” The way he’s looming over you makes all rational thought leave your head. You rack your brain for an answer to his question.

“I just- I wanted your attention that’s all.”

“Aww, poor thing was upset I wasn’t paying enough attention to her, and then had to excuse myself to the bathroom. How sad.” He puts on a mocking frown as the grip in your hair tightens, making you wince. He’s pulls you up to stand on shaky legs before he continues. “I can’t leave you alone for a second before you go and act up. Always a good girl until I turn my back. I’m fucking tired of it.” Matty’s releases your hair, sitting down on the edge of the bed. You remain in front of him, completely bare. He still has all of his clothes on, having only loosened the top button of his shirt.

“Bend over on my lap,” Matty says, adjusting his legs to give you a place to lean over. Your eyebrows rise in surprise at his words. You’ve always had to ask Matty to treat you roughly before he would do it. He’s never gone as far to spank you without you asking for it first, no matter how many times you told him it was okay. He’s beyond pissed right now. “Why are you still standing there? Can’t listen to simple orders? Are you that fucking stupid?”

“I’m sorry Matty. I’m so sorry,” you apologize quickly, leaning over his lap, ass completely exposed. You jolt when his hand comes up to rest on it, gently massaging the flesh. A stark contrast of what you know is coming. The rings on his fingers send a chill to your skin, goosebumps spreading in their touch. His other arm locks around your waist, holding you still and keeping your body flush to his lap.

“You’ve been a very bad girl. I’m going to spank you until my good girl is back. Got it?”

“Yes sir.” You say, already slipping into the submissive headspace. He shifts beneath you. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve called him that. It gets him every time. 

“Fifteen spanks. You’re going to count after each one of them. Lose count and I’ll add another. Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you so mad.” Your voice is shaky and desperate for him to believe you.

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it this time sweetheart. You fucking knew what you were doing. Don’t try and act like you didn’t. I don’t like it when other people touch what’s mine, and you just let him.” 

The first slap comes down hard. The sound of his hand against your skin echoes throughout the room. A strangled gasp leaves your lips as you struggle to count like he requested. “O-one” 

He doesn’t say a word. Matty’s hand comes down to slap your ass again the next second. It’s at this point you remember his rings. They sting your skin when his hand meets your ass. “Two.”

He’s spanked you a few times before, but only while he was fucking you. This is a whole new scenario. You are powerless in his hands, bracing yourself for the next impact. Your position leaves you completely unaware of when his hand will spank you next.

Slap after slap you squirm in his grasp. He’s eerily silent. The only sounds in the room are your cries and the sound of the spanks. The pain is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. The force behind Matty’s strikes will bruise you. You’re sure of it. The pain mixed with the submission sends heat to your core. Embarrassment ruins through you as you feel wetness drip down your thighs. You don’t realize Matty feels your slick soak into his pants until he speaks again. 

“Are you getting wet right now?” Matty says, a sound of shock in his voice. He spreads your legs to look for himself, making you hiss when he grabs your raw skin. He laughs when he sees the state between your thighs. “Ha. You are. What a fucking slut, getting off on me spanking you. This is supposed to be a punishment, remember? God, you’re such a whore. You would probably thank me if I stopped right now and didn’t get you off.”

His hand impacts you, hard. You feel the rings cut into your skin. You shudder on his lap, whimpering. His words only sent more heat down to your stomach, fueling the submissive headspace. There’s a lull as you prepare yourself for the next hit. Your skin is hot, throbbing from the rush of blood to the surface. 

“Are you forgetting something?” He says, leaning down to whisper in your ear. His lips graze the skin of your neck. Shit. You forgot what number he was on. Fuck. 

“I’m sorry sir I- I forgot I’m sorry.” He straightens back up before he speaks again.

“Since apparently you don’t remember how to count, that was number ten. Now I’m going to sixteen.” He spanks you again, but this time it’s aimed towards your cunt. The pain rushes through you, making your head feel whoozy. You almost forget to count again.

“Shit! E-eleven,” you manage to say, tears forming in your eyes.

By the time he reaches fourteen, you’re not sure you can take it. “Matty-Matty please it’s too much.” You choke out in between sobs. He pauses his hand, taking the time to gently touch your backside. He carefully rubs the skin back and forth, soothing it. Matty’s giving you plenty of time to safe word if you need to stop. You know that’s exactly what he’s doing, but you don’t want to stop. You want him to keep doing whatever he wants. He can use you however he wants. When a moment passes, and you don’t use the safe word he continues. 

“Should have thought about this before you flirted with that motherfucker at the bar then, yeah? Now, shut up and take it.”

You notice though, that he eases up on the last few spanks. His hand comes down lighter, and on different spots. He’s not focused on hitting the same place multiple times in a row like he was earlier. When his hand strikes you the final time, you gasp out the number.

“S-Sixteen.”

“There we go. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” he prods, sarcasm in his voice. He’s quiet again for a moment, taking in how you look. You’re completely plaint on his lap, breathing heavily. Your ass is bright red, already swollen from the hits. On some places, he can make out his handprints. A perfect temporary mark of who you belong to. Matty notices where his rings had an impact on your ass, drawing blood on some parts on your skin. He would have to take those off before doing this next time.

You shift on his lap. The silence is driving you crazy. Your movements draw his attention to in between your legs. Right on his thigh lies a large wet spot from your arousal. It’s only grown since he first noticed it.  

“You made a fucking mess all over me and my nice slacks. Clean it up. Now.” He says in your ear. Your mind is still hazy, buzzing with the adrenaline from the spanks. 

“What do you mean?”

“Have you already gone stupid? I haven’t even put my cock in you yet. What I mean is…” Matty locks his fingers in your hair, pushing you off of his lap. “Get on your knees and clean it up. Make good use of that tongue of yours.”

It takes a second for the gears in your head to start turning again. Once you get it, you do as he says, lapping at the wet spot on his pants. His hard on is obvious through his slacks, but you focus on your task, licking until you can no longer taste yourself. Its nearly shameful how you look right now. On your knees mouthing at his pant leg just because he told you so. You can’t find the nerve to look up at him. Your hands shake from adrenaline as you hold on tight to his legs to keep yourself up right.

Matty watches you, panting at the sight. He’s curious how long it will take before you stop. Will you wait for his command? Or will you stop on your own. After five minutes pass and you haven’t stopped, he has his answer.

“Okay. That’s enough.” You lean back, resting on your calves. You jaw aches, and so does your ass. Drool drips from your raw lips down your chin, landing on the floor. You look up at him, meeting his dark eyes and wait patiently for his next command. Part of you fears he’s going to walk out of the room and leave you here dripping with desire for him. It’s what you deserve for egging him on earlier. It’s what he should do.

“Look at you. Such a filthy whore. You’d do anything I say wouldn’t you?” You nod eagerly. A whine involuntarily escapes your lips. Oh, how bad you want him. To feel him fill you up and fuck you until you can’t walk.

“Use your words, pet.”

“Y-yes. Yes sir. Please please please.”

“What are you saying please for? Can you even string the words together? Or is that too much for you?” His harsh words only make the ache between your thighs worse. It shouldn’t be turning you on this much, but all you want to be is his dumb whore. You want nothing more than to be a toy he can use whenever he wants.

“I need you sir. Please,” you beg.

“I should just leave you here, you know. Tie you up on the bed so you can’t even touch yourself.”

“No! No, no, no. Please Matty please I can’t. I’m so sorry please. I’ll never do it again, sir, I promise.”

“Get on the bed, now. Ass up,” he commands. You listen fast, standing up on shaky legs to crawl onto the bed. You follow his instructions, arching your back and holding yourself up with your arms. The sound of his belt unbuckling rings through the room. The next second you hear his clothes land on the floor. You whine when you feel the bed dip beneath his body as he moves behind you.

Without warning, he slams into you. He’s not slow, or gentle. Matty’s hands hold your waist in a bruising grip as his thrusts into you at a brutal pace. His cock fills every inch of your cunt. Your arms fail to hold you up, and you fall onto your face on the pillows, trying to take what he gives you. His movements make the headboard slam into the wall. If you thought the spanking earlier was him letting out his anger, you were wrong. This is him letting on his anger on you, by fucking you harder than he ever has.

You whine and gasp into the pillow. Matty’s hitting spots he’s never hit before. You begin to lose yourself fast, falling deep into pleasure.

“Fucking little cock slut, so tight around me. You love this don’t you? Being used by me like a fuck toy.” He moves a hand from your hip to rest on the back of your head, pushing your face into the mattress. “That’s all you’re good for right? To be a stupid little cock sleeve for me?” The mattress muffles your cries.

His body shifts as he moves to wrap an arm around your waist. Matty’s arm keeps your hips flush to his. Your arms can’t hold you up anymore. Matty’s hips speed up and the change in angle makes you scream.

“Fuck- Matty oh god-“ All you can do is hold onto the sheets as he pounds into you. His hand that isn’t around your waist wraps around your neck, applying light pressure while he holds your head up.

“No one can fuck you like I can.” His voice is hot in your ear. “Say it. Fucking say it.” He punctuates every word with a harsh thrust, tightening the grip on your throat. Stars start to appear in your vision.

“No- No one can fuck me like you can, sir.” You choke out. “I’m yours. Only yours.”

Matty releases your throat, and the blood rushes back up to your head. All the stimulation is becoming too much. You’re buzzing at the skin. The haze in your mind increases. The world melts around you. The pleasure builds rapidly in your stomach, but you didn’t want to come without his permission. You needed his permission before you came.

“Sir– I–“ a moan interrupts your sentence as he thrusts harder. Tears pool in your eyes. “Please sir. Please I’ve been so– good. Please I need to come– I need you s-so bad Matty. W-want your cum in me p-please.”

Matty flips you around to lay on your back. It’s only then he realizes how close you are to sub space if you weren’t already there. Your eyes are glassed over. Tears spill down your cheeks. Your hands clutch at his back desperately. Desperate to stay grounded. His eyes soften immediately at the sight of you. Matty’s language changes in an instant. Words of praise pour out of his mouth. “Okay baby, I’ll make you come for me yeah? You’re so fucking good around me with your cunt squeezing me like this. You feel how deep I am?” His hand presses down at your lower stomach. You can feel his cock move inside of you with every thrust. A cry leaves your lips at the feeling, and he presses down harder. “This cunt was made for me. No one else can fill you up like I do, can they?”

Matty’s not looking for an answer. He thinks you’re already too far gone to speak, but you prove him wrong. “O-only y-you sir–“ you slur out. It’s barely coherent.

“Shit–“ Matty falters his thrusts, trying to hold on for you. “Such a good girl fuck. You’ve been such a good girl for me. You can come. Go on sweetheart, you’ve done so well.” As soon as his hand comes up to circle your clit, you’re gone. You sob, digging your nails into his back as euphoria washes over you. It’s a pleasure like you’ve never felt before. Your grip on Matty loosens, body going slack in his arms. Your surroundings blur around you, melting together into one. This is sub space. You can barely move a muscle, let alone speak now. Whimpers leave your throat with every thrust of his cock. All you know is that Matty is on top of you chasing his own pleasure. He’ll keep you safe, and that’s all that matters.

Matty strokes your hair gently, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. “Shhh sweetheart, I’ve got you. I’m right here.” He presses kisses into your neck. It’s the first time his lips have been on you all evening. “Almost there, baby. Almost there,” Matty groans. His hips grow sloppy as he nears his climax. He’s babbling on, fueled by love and devotion for you. The fact you feel safe enough to let go in his arms drives him crazy. “I’m going to fill you up, yeah? Put a baby in you. Then everyone will know your mine. Belly all swollen with my baby. Fuck–” Matty spills inside of you with a final trust, filling you up deep. He falls on top of you and holds you close. Only a moment passes before he goes into aftercare mode. Matty’s careful to dictate everything he does, even though he knows you can’t really hear him. You’re floating, barely attached to your body. He pulls out of you gently, and you whine at the loss of contact. “I know baby. I have to go get the stuff to clean you up, okay? I’m not going anywhere; I’ll be right back.” He walks off quickly to the bathroom, grabbing the stuff he needs after putting on a clean pair of boxers.

When he returns to your side, his eyes are drawn to the fresh tears running down your face. You muster every ounce of strength you can to grab onto his arm. The grip of your hand is weak, but you need to touch him.

“I’m here sweetheart. I’m not going to leave you again I promise.” He begins to clean you up using the warm rag he brought from the bathroom. Matty’s careful as he wipes at your center and thighs. Once he’s finished, he speaks again. You can hear him more clearly this time. The world is getting less fuzzy. “I’m going to turn you over now so you can lay on your stomach.” He moves you easily with his strong arms. He’s wiping down your backside next. You wince when the rag grazes your raw skin. Matty works quickly to limit the amount of time he’s touching you. He grabs a tin of ointment that he set down on the size table earlier. “I’m sorry love, this is going to sting. It’ll help it heal faster though, promise.” His hands work the ointment into your skin, making sure to cover every spot from earlier.

When he’s finished, he crawls in bed next to you. Matty leaves a gap between you two in case you want space, but that’s the last thing you want. You turn to your side and reach towards him. He understands the message and pulls you up onto him so you can lay on his chest. His hands comb through your hair, soothing you. “Do you need anything else my love? There’s water on the nightstand and a snack if you need it.” You shake your head no into his chest. The feeling of his arms wrapped around you is all you need.

“Matty?” you croak out. Your voice is small and weak, but he still understands it.

“Yes baby?”

“I-I love you.”

“I love you too baby.” He kisses your forehead, and his arms pull you close. “So fucking much.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tag list ( add yourself) :@x-a-black-winged-dove-x @tote-bag-chic-barista @ari-turner @you-muppet @zzzhealy @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied

[lottiecrabie]

hiii You know who this is can i please please please have cyosa mutual masturbation i lost so hard every time but once and you know you love meeeee 😇😇😇😇

this is for you🫵you know who you are. I love you🫶

‘matty…’ you moan, half as a beg and half as a mindless need. he chuckles, opening your thighs for him, putting you on display. you’re so ready you might take him right now. 

matty’s hand still dances on your thigh, working higher and higher. your breath hitches, anticipating the fateful meeting. he whispers, smirking, ‘how about you show me how you do it?’

your cheeks flame at the idea. you clench your thighs, trapping him in place, embarrassed. he doesn’t seem too bothered. he revels in prying them open again, grazing the ready skin until you’re squirming.

‘why would i when you’re right here?’ as if to convince him, you reach for his leftover hand, dragging it to a pert breast. he chuckles. his finger rolls the nipple and you sigh, still holding onto his wrist.

‘i want to see,’ he says. ‘i want to learn.’ you groan, half from pleasure and half from shyness. you hide in your shoulder, arching your back into his hand in contradiction. again, a laugh falls from him. ‘how about i show you too?’

your eyes snap to him, suddenly interested. he kneels up, towering over your parting frame. his hand makes quick work of his belt— quicker than your hungry, shaking ones could have done. he draws his cock out without any hesitation, holding it at the base. your breath dies in your throat. you freeze under him.

‘i’m already hard,’ matty says. ‘don’t even have to think about you cause you’re already laying there like a fucking daydream.’

you grin, spreading your legs further, giving him a show. a tortured groan rasps out his throat. ‘fuck, love, you’re gorgeous.’ he strokes himself once, swiping his thumb over the tip. you lick your lips, though you do not feel the need to reach out and do it yourself. you want to relish in the spectacle.

you get him, now. he knows this. says, ‘show me.’

you don’t feel as shy. your hand grabs his own, puppeteering him so he pinches and rolls your peaked nipples just right. a broken moan comes out of you. in turn, he strokes faster.

‘i don’t like the before,’ you choke out. ‘i’d rather just get to it.’ it’s all the warning you give him before you plunge your hand between your folds, circling your clit.

‘shit,’ matty cries. ‘you’re not real.’ you hum, pinching the skin of his wrist mischievously, reveling in his little yelp. ‘what do you think about?’

you shrug, non-committed. ‘i like my mind blank.’ matty tsks and shakes his head. you almost want to laugh, but your fingers hit a sinful spot and you’re too busy whining out.

‘you’re doing it wrong,’ he breathes. his hand is still hard at work on himself. he needs to frown in concentration to get his thought out. ‘the before, the imagination— that’s what it’s all about. you won’t get a mind-blowing orgasm if you don’t involve your mind.’

‘do it, then,’ you whimper. ‘mindblow me.’

he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. ‘i didn’t expect you to be lazy.’ the challenge works and you set your eyes, competitiveness bubbling in your chest. vengefully, you dip two fingers inside, watching as he slows his rhythm in quiet wonder.

you thrust in and out, angling your fingers until your legs twitch mindlessly. your nails dig into his skin, and it’s not even to send any kind of message. he’s wrong about the mind. you masturbate to get you off— off that tyrannical ride your head leads ruthlessly. this, the hot euphoria beating in your veins, the quiet moans, the shivering limbs, is what it’s about.

‘i’ll tell you, then,’ matty says. he seems close, pumping his cock fast and certain. his chest rises and falls, the tattooed planes of his stomach in perfect display. you want to spread a hand over it, want to descend down and replace his hand, want to— you thumb your clit and stop wanting.

‘i think about you, all pretty and hot and needy. never this perfect, though. god, you’re really not real— like a fucking frosted cupcake, all sweet for me.’ the words fizzle up your chest. pleasure strikes through you, doubly so, and you cry his name in sheer shock.

matty continues, ‘i think about you in the library, bending you over until i erase that little worried frown you have. make you suck my fingers so you keep quiet still. don’t want to get banned— still need you to ride my cock on those big chairs after all.’

‘oh, god,’ you whine. you rub your clit furiously, eyes rolling back, seemingly astral projected to the library. your lips part in quiet worship. ‘more,’ you beg him.

matty pinches your nipple, forcing you to look at him. ‘your turn.’

you pant, trying to use your brain when your fingers are deep and quick inside of you, when he’s hanging off with that swoopy hair over his forehead and those dark, hungry eyes. you’re drunk on the mere sight of him, and you start fearing how he’ll affect you when he’s the one thrusting inside you.

‘i—‘ your legs kick, helpless. ‘sometimes when we watched movies, i’d think about you eating me out on the couch.’

matty groans, scrunching his eyes like he’s imagining it. ‘yeah? what’d i do?’

‘just— you’d kneel in front of me, and you’d tell me to pay attention, and then you’d do it. devour me like you were starved. shush me when i got too loud, remind me to watch my smart, pretentious film.’

another broken cry slips out of him. he falls over you, though still holding himself up with an arm. your now free hand spread over his ribs, back, anything your greediness can find. both your fingers work in tandem between your bodies, a quiet union you’ve just now noticed. you roll your head, hit his wrist. ‘matty…’

‘i thought about you asking me to fuck you before,’ matty admits offhandedly, lost in his pleasure. your fingers press into his working shoulder, mean. ‘fuck, i almost believed i was imagining when you really did ask me. figured i was going crazy.’

you twist your head, kissing his wrist over and over, tiny presses of love you don’t dare say. your tongue sticks out and licks it all up before it stays and means something. ‘again,’ you moan, feeling yourself get closer. your hips rise for your strained digits. your body hums in warning.

‘i want to come on your stomach. want to mark your skin— god, need it. need to see you all pretty with my cum, make you all messy. show you’re mine.’

‘matty,’ you scream, pumping your fingers just right.

’need to see you come, too. break apart so you’re not so perfect. my pristine, pretty girl, drooling for me, screaming my name, working those little fingers…’

‘fuck—‘

‘you’re doing so well for me,’ he promises. his hand has lost any sense of regular rhythm, pumping with desperate abandon instead. ‘just like i though,’ he says, full of wonder. he seems so gone you’d figure he’s all in his head, but matty stares at you like he could lick up the frost off the cupcake. ‘of course you’d listen. of course you’d do just i say.’

‘fuck, i need—‘ it’s on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t get to say, a shattering orgasm taking you instead.

you open your jaw and dig your teeth in matty’s wrist, biting down the yells as waves of pure ecstasy shake through you. your head, never quite unattached before, blanks with the force of pleasure. you say his name, you think. or maybe not. in the end, you don’t think at all, and it is glorious.

matty’s close after you, screaming out your name shamelessly. the ropes of white cum hit your stomach and he draws out his last trembles before he falls atop you with a sigh.

your head’s all fuzzy as you lay there. ‘oh,’ you finally say once you regain speech. you trace a finger over his back, staring at the ceiling in quiet contemplation. oh, this is what it’s supposed to be.

‘yeah,’ matty murmurs in your hair. because he understands, of course he does. your lungs feel full and heavy.

he finally rises and you catch a glance to the mess between your two bodies. the cum is painted over both of your stomach. though matty doesn’t even bother wiping it off before he smirks, kissing down your sternum. his eyes flash up at you, full of mischief. ‘so you want me to eat you out, huh?’