#matty in a garbage can

[djarintreble]

i’ve never drawn something so fast after seeing a reference. my ipad was at 10% and i finished this before right at 2%. so excuse the rushed drawing but-

“matt landing in a garbage bin… this time not so comfortable…”

i was scrolling through pinterest and saw this and had to. just imagine

“hey foggy.”

“oh my god you’re alive. where are you?”

“so uh… i need help.”

“is it ninjas? a zombie girlfriend again? a butcher?! an villain butcher?”

“i’m stuck in a garbage can.”

“hold on, im getting karen. we have to see this.”

[mattscoquette]

𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑬 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝒀𝑶𝑼 | 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑶

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉.. matt loves his girl through a depressive episode

mention of depression, anxiety, not eating, use of pet names, slight animal neglecting (not intentional!) no use of y/n, not proofread

1.7k words

the white walls of your bedroom began to get all contorted and fuzzy in your vision, you remembering to blink. you shut your eyes tight, sighing, praying the heavy feeling in your chest would just go away. your eyes re-opened, the plain wall staring back at you. you weren’t sure how long you were in this position, you being in and out of sleep for the past few days, or weeks even, you weren’t sure. your memory was hazy, you unable to recall anything other than you laying in bed, staring at the wall opposite you. you had only gotten out of bed a couple times from what you can recall, but only to use the bathroom and feed your cat when she kept meowing beside your bed. you can’t remember the last time you checked your phone, it probably dead somewhere trapped in between your dirty sheets.

you haven’t been this bad in a while. every now and then you would have days where you would just lay in bed all day, the thought of even sitting up draining you. but it hasn’t been like this in a long time. you were always the type to keep your feelings in, no matter how many times people offered to talk with you. you just couldn’t burden someone like that, you thinking your problems were small and insignificant. you couldn’t help it, you’ve been that way forever. the only way you ever opened up was when someone would pry, practically spreading you apart just to get something out of you. most of the people in your life didn’t bother with that, until you met matt. you’d been dating for nearly two years now, and he knew you like he knew the back of his hand. you both instantly clicked with one another, the two of you just pairing so well together. you both had a spidey-sense for each others emotions, often times one of you sensing the other was off before they even knew it themselves.

so with that being said, when matt or his brother’s hadn’t heard from you for the last five days, he knew something was wrong. he’d last seen you when he dropped you back off at your apartment last weekend, not speaking with you since then. he knew you were feeling a little under the weather, so he thought it best to just leave you alone and get some rest. after a few days, he began to worry, all of his texts still being on delivered and his calls going straight to voicemail. so he took it upon himself to drive over to your place to check up on his girl, hoping you were okay and just a little sick.

he let himself in with the key you had given him after a few months of dating, immediately being met with the mess that was your apartment. the dishes were piled in the sink, the garbage overflowing, the plants scattered on shelves and dressers beginning to welt.

“baby?” he called out, stepping inside the apartment, your cat instantly padding over to him, nudging herself against his calf.

“in here,” you tried to yell, your vocal chords only allowing you to speak at a whisper.

he made his way back into your bedroom, his heart dropping at the sight of you. your room was a disaster, clothes scattered along the carpeted floor, your shades drawn shut. matt climbed into your bed under the covers with you, pulling you into his chest and pressing a kiss to your head.

“i’m sorry matty,” you spoke, your voice emotionless. you hated when he saw you like this. most of the time, you swallowed your pride, asking him to come over to try and cheer you up. this time it was bad, and you could barely allow yourself to be this vulnerable, so letting your boyfriend be exposed to you in this state made you so anxious. he had enough issues to deal with, you couldn’t possibly dump all this on him. he deserved someone so much better than you, someone who could hold their own and didn’t need to be cared for like this.

“don’t be sorry, please. it’s okay, it happens,” he reassured you, pressing kisses to your hair, “how long have you been in bed for?”

you shrugged, it being too much to even talk right now.

“okay, do you remember what you did the last time you got up?”

your eyebrows furrowed, trying to recall. everything was so hazy in your mind, you unsure what day it even was. “i think i went to the bathroom and fed luna.”

matt hummed, beginning to stroke your arm as you laid on him. you two stayed like this for a while, matt just caressing your arm and giving gentle kisses to your head. after a bit he sat up, pulling you up with him.

“let’s get you in the shower, mkay love?” he told you, the thought making you anxious. you barely had enough energy to talk, the idea of showering making you panic. matt sensed your worry, scooping you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bathroom, sitting you down on the closed toilet lid as he ran the hot water. “you just get in, i’ll be back in a few.”

you nodded, stripping yourself of your week old pajama shirt and shorts, stepping underneath the hot water as matt left. your legs felt like they had anchors tied to them, you leaning against the wall and sliding down on the floor, curling your legs up into your chest as you hugged them. after god knows how long, matt came back like he promised, joining you in the hot steam. he pulled you up gently, grabbing you fruity scented shampoo as he squirted it into his hand, massaging your scalp gently. you sighed contently under your breath, trying your best to relax as you let matt wash you.

you felt like such a burden to him, embarrassed you couldn’t perform a task as simple as washing your own hair and body. when matt was done, he wrapped you in a fuzzy towel, drying you off before helping you slip into a fresh pair of sweatpants and your favorite hoodie of his. without even asking, matt reached into the drawer to grab your hair brush, him starting to gently untangle your hair with the bristles. “i changed your bedsheets for you,” matt spoke as he combed his way through your knots, “and i put all your dirty clothes into the washing machine too.”

“you didn’t have to do that.” you said quietly.

“i wanted to.” matt smiled, smiling at you from his reflection in the mirror. “i tidied up the kitchen as well, and i watered your plants and changed luna’s water and food bowl.”

this is what set you off, you breaking away from matt’s brushing, turning around and hugging his bare chest tightly, sobs escaping your throat as you broke down.

“i’m sorry i’m like this,” you told him as your voice quivered, “i don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“nothing is wrong with you, my sweet girl, nothing at all.” matt told you while he held you. “just let it all out for me baby.”

and so you did. you cried, holding on to matt with a grip so strong you’d think he’d slip away if you let up at all. he allowed you to cry, not caring about anything else in those moments other than just being there for you. he whispered soft encouragements into your wet hair, kissing your head every now and then, reminding you that he loved you. after some time, your broke away, your eyes bloodshot and puffy. without a word, you turned around, letting matt finish brushing your hair and braiding it.

“i love you so much, matt.” you said almost to yourself, looking up in the mirror to meet matt’s gaze.

“i love you so much more.” he smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist while he placed a delicate kiss behind your ear. “i ordered us some lunch, it should be here any minute.”

you nodded, following matt into your now clean living room. he stepped outside for a moment, retrieving the brown paper back that contained takeout from your favorite sushi place. the two of you sat on the couch, eating together in content silence. when you were done, matt cleaned up for you, coming back to where you resided on the couch. “let’s go for a drive, beautiful, okay? you need some fresh air.”

you sighed, looking up at him with sad eyes. “i can’t matt.”

“you can, my love.” matt said, sitting beside you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder, you leaning into his touch. “you did so much for me today, i’m so proud of you. when we get back home we can go to sleep, i just need you to get out of the house for a bit.”

you nodded softly, allowing matt to stand up with you as he guided you out to the car. he held the door open for you and buckled you in, pressing a kiss to your cheek. he walked around to the trunk, getting the blanket he kept in the van and tossing it across your lap.

the both of you drove around until matt’s gas light turned on, the windows down the whole time as your favorite songs played from his speakers. he had stopped to get you guys coffee and a sweet treat, this causing you to smile for the first time in days. he’d finally gotten you to talk more, the both of you conversing about anything and everything. when you returned back to your apartment, matt carried you back inside bridal style, settling you down on your bed.

he crawled underneath the newly clean sheets with you, holding you close to his chest while your legs intertwined with his. matt pulled away from the embrace for a moment, holding your face before kissing your lips lovingly.

“i love you so much, okay? you’re my girl, i’m always gonna be here for you.” he smiled, stroking your cheek with his thumb. you grinned back at him, giving him another kiss before snuggling back into his chest.

“i love you too.” you mumbled in his t-shirt, slowly and softly drifting off into the most peaceful sleep you’ve had in days, your stomach full, your clothes clean, your boyfriend’s arms around you.

you still had a long way to go. you weren’t sure if you would ever be one hundred percent better one day. but all you knew was that matt loved you and would be by your side every step of the way.

© mattscoquette

𝐚/𝐧: i wrote this in like an hour lol all of y'all in my inbox rlly got me in my feels about matt helping his girl thru a rough patch :( i've struggled a lot with my mental health over the years so i rlly liked writing this one. if anyone ever needs someone to talk to i am always here!!!! even if we don't know each other u can always reach out to me. i love u all :)

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: @alorsxsturn @sturniolossss @cammie4298 @bussybandit1 @amorttentia @franticroads @sturnsssbow @cams5sos @strombolilovr @st7rnioioss @junnniiieee07 @mattscurlygirly @simply-a-simper @sturnrc @sturnifyed @freshlovie @imwetforyourmom @69isabella69 @mattsturnxoxo @stonermattsgf @pettydollie @fawnchives @mmay4ever @sturniololvrrr @whosthislyssbitch @pr1ncessmatt @lanas-doll @55sturn @grimholic @livvy4realll

[imightgetbetter]

back in time

i don't even know what came over me, but i basically meshed all these ideas into one and here we are, five thousand words later. i typically love writing long pieces, so we'll see if this becomes the new trend for my writing. as always, be nice and give feedback (reblog and messages and all that). thank you for all the support you've been showing me. it literally makes me so happy. okay bye. have fun reading! content warning: MATURE (if you're a minor, get out of here)

Nearly everything in your quaint apartment is moved out, deconstructed, and sold. Outside, New York City is bustling with movement. Holiday season always is. Mothers dragging their families to the Rockefeller Center Tree and Times Square and the notably known apartment buildings in SoHo. Inside, you are waiting anxiously for the buzzer to sound near your front door, where there is someone on their way to help you gather the rest of your things and move back home. Originally, your mother was meant to fly out and help you, but his willingness and insistence that it would be easier for him to come and help because he knows the area quite well from visiting and you’d already asked him (you didn’t), so he had absolutely no issue flying out for only a day or two to get things moved back home, made it so that she simply couldn’t refuse.

Holidays and special occasions always went like this from as early as you can remember. The Healy’s, The Daniel’s, The MacDonald’s, The Hann’s, and your family, all gathered in someone’s house, sharing stories and alcoholic beverages as the boys wacked and played their instruments and you would sit idly by trying to make yourself seem busy and uninterested. And that worked quite well, you thought, for years. Until one holiday, you found yourself drunkenly kissing Matty Healy on the side of your house, his hands brushing electrically against the skin hidden by a thick sweater. His skin was so warm compared to the harsh winter air around you, and kissing him, albeit drunkenly, made your entire body feel warm.

You and Matty never spoke of it, once you two walked back inside, making up some lie that you needed help throwing out the garbage. No one believed you, but you couldn’t speak of it, ever again. Not once. Mistakes are made when you’re drunk and you were friends and you were friends with his friends and you all grew up together, and it felt like the absolute worst thing you could possibly do. You ignored it, and Matty seemed to not have any cares for the fact that this had happen, continuing to act as he always had towards you. You thought it was a one-off thing, a one-time mistake. Until the next party. Until, when everyone was distracted, Matty was taking your hand and pulling you towards the entry way closet and grabbing your face and kissing you.

And this happened, a lot.

Matty never kissed you sober, which, was somehow insulting and intriguing simultaneously. Could you really be everything Matty wanted when he was drunk, but absolutely nothing more than a friend when sober? Questions like this swirled around your brain every time a gathering happened – which was quite often for you all – and every time, you found yourself drunkenly misplaced in his arms, his lips on yours. Matty never took it farther, never pushed it, as though that was enough for now.

All the one-off kissing was enough, until the day came when you were officially leaving. Your acceptance to New York University did not come as a shock to anyone, especially not your friends. You had always been a writer, from the minute you knew words, you were making up stories. You sat with Matty as he wrote songs, giving him synonyms and telling him if his rhyming scheme was off. You were made for this, and it was your dream coming true.

One last party was necessary, all the friends and family gathered together for one last real party, one where it wouldn’t only be because you were visiting in town for the holidays or the summer. All your friends were gathered on the floor of your bedroom, sitting knee to knee as you all share a joint around the circle and talk about what’s going to happen when you leave.

‘You’ve got to come back for holidays,’ George said, tilting his head back and letting the smoke puff out between his lips. ‘Have to check in and listen to what we’re working on, too.’

‘I’m not dropping off the face of the earth,’ you argue, stealing the joint and pulling it between your lips. ‘I’ll still be around. There’s the internet and stuff in America. I’m not going to the Arctic. You act like I’m never coming home.’

‘Might as well be,’ Matty huffs, the cigarette smoke pooling around his head like a cloud. He’s been the one having the hardest time with you leaving, and everyone could see it. He relayed his happiness for your acceptance, as everyone did, but there was something different attached to it, a different feeling. Matty stood up suddenly, lending out his hand for you, ‘I’m going to go outside for some air. Want to come?’

‘Uh, sure.’ His hand felt warm against yours, and you two slipped out the front door without anyone in the garden noticing. Matty walked you to the side of your house, a spot you remember vividly, and the tension feels weird, the energy is different, like there is so much to say but you want to say nothing at all. ‘You’re acting strange.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Matty says quietly, stubbing out the cigarette on the ground and leaning his hand on the side of the house. Adjusting yourself slightly, you twisted yourself to be facing him. ‘I can’t handle you leaving. It’s making me lose my bloody mind.’

“Matty, I’m going to school,’ you say, trying to brush away the feelings welling inside you. Objectively, to anyone else watching, this would be the perfect moment to profess your feelings for him, for him to share his feelings with you and tell you that you’re all he wants, and he’ll do the distance and all the things you watch in shitty romantic movies growing up. ‘I’m going to still talk to you and the guys. I’ll be back for holidays and summers. I’m not disappearing.’

‘I don’t want you to go.’

‘That’s not really an option, Matty. My career isn’t here. Nothing ties me to Manchester, besides my parents, growing up here. I want to go to New York. I want to go and experience it and then I want to come back and move to London and be an author and do all the things. Just like you want to be a musician. I wouldn’t be showing up at your house hours before you leave for a tour telling you not to go.’

‘I wouldn’t go,’ Matty says, turning his head away from the wall of the house and towards you. ‘I wouldn’t go if you didn’t want me to.’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ you say, leaning against the siding of the house and tilting your head up towards the sky, staring at the stars. ‘You shouldn’t ever give up your dreams for your friends. That’s absurd and you know it.’

‘Jesus Christ, YN,’ Matty says roughly, the scratch in his throat accentuated by a wet rasp, and when you look at him, you can see the tears welling in his eyes, ‘you are not just my friend, you never have been. It’s always been more than that, and you know it.’

‘Know what, Matty? Me and you are only a thing when we’re high or we’re drunk. It’s not like you’re in love with me or something!’

‘And what if I was?’

‘Don’t say that to me. You can’t say that to me,’ you say, pushing off the wall and hurriedly walking towards the front door. Matty grabs your wrist and twists you around, grabbing your face in his hands and kissing you deeply. It’s the type of kiss you read about, the one you watch in movies. It’s the type of kiss that leaves you breathless and confused and unsure where to go, only that you need to keep kissing him. Matty pulls away only for a second, giving you a moment to say, ‘You can’t do this when I’m about to leave. It’s not fair, Matty.’

‘I know, I’m sorry.’ Matty rubs your cheeks softly, his eyes tracing over your features, trying to memorize everything about you. ‘I just, I can’t let you leave without knowing how I feel about you. You’ve always been more than just a drunken kiss.’ You don’t know what to say, how to feel. ‘I want you. I want to be with you. I love you.’

‘I’m going to be on another continent, Matty,’ you sigh, tears welling in your eyes as you lean your face into his hands. ‘I can’t do long distance. I don’t want to. I want to write and fall in love and fall out of love and have experiences, and I want you to have those, too. I can’t do this, no matter how I feel about you. Matty, we can’t do this.’

Matty knows you better than to ask what he wants to really ask you. ‘Can I come and visit you? Can you come home and listen to the band and write songs with me? Can we get high and talk about existential crises and politics?’ His eyes squeeze shut as you wipe a tear from his cheek. ‘Can I still kiss you?’

‘Yes,’ you say, not specifying which question you’re answering. Matty can decide what the ‘yes’ is to and for. ‘And when I’m done with school,’ you say hesitantly, nervous about the implications of what this might mean, ‘when I’m coming home, if you still feel the same way, we can talk about it. I don’t want you to ignore every opportunity just because something might happen in four years. Live your life, Matty. And if something happens when I come back, then–’

‘Yeah,’ Matty says quietly, kissing your forehead and pulling his hands away, reaching into his pocket and grabbing another cigarette. ‘I’m going to stay out here; you can go in.’

‘Okay,’ you say, drawing back from him and walking towards the front door, and the further you walk away, the more it feels like you’re walking away from what should’ve been so good.

And this is where you are, four and a half years later. Home is calling, you’re excited to be where you know for a while, especially for the holidays, before heading down to London and making a life there on your own. All of your bags are packed, lined against the wall. Only a few more boxes need to be shipped to your new address, and you have time to do that tomorrow before your flight in a day. All of it is coming together, except for the fact that you have to face what you’ve been actively avoiding for the last four years, because you know it’s going to be something you talk about.

And only a few minutes pass with this thought, because then the buzzer rang, you clicked the button and opened the apartment door, and before you could properly think of a greeting, you’re sucked into his arms, his entire body wrapped around you tightly. He is warm and smells so good, you swear it’s impossible that he’s just gotten off an airplane. His warmth is familiar, a sweet scent wafting over you as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and hold him, your eyes shut as you just soak in the silence. He’s quiet, as well, and you know that you both are thinking the same thing, trying to avoid the unspoken energy in the room. You wonder how long it’ll take for him to say something about it, and you wonder how long after that it’ll take you to blurt out the words that have been itching at your throat since that dreaded night you think about often, the night you regret more than anything.

Matty slowly pulls away, grabbing your cheeks and staring at you intensely, and you feel like your whole body is on fire and you can feel the heat of his breath on your mouth, and you want nothing more than to be kissing him, to feeling his lips on yours. His thumb traces your cheek, and he says, “I’m so happy you’re coming home. I’ve missed you.”

“I’m only home for a week. I move to London next week,” you say, and immediately you feel guilty for not spilling out how much you’ve missed him since you’ve been away. “I’ve missed you, more than you could believe.” His smile is enough to make you feel like your feet are floating above the ground, and you have to step away, reaching for a mug on the counter and taking a sip of the warm tea. “I’ve come down with a cold, I’m sorry. I know we have to share a bed and all, but I’ll try to stay away from you.”

“Don’t worry about me, darling. I mean it,” Matty says surely, taking a look around the empty apartment. He’s been here a handful of times, coming to visit here and there and always spending the most amount of time with you that he could, even if that meant sitting and watching you write on your computer for hours. “Do you want to do anything, tonight? I don’t mind staying in if you’re not feeling well.”

“I think there’s a Walmart about thirty minutes away,” you say reaching for your phone and clicking at your screen to try and find a car to take you there. “Don’t feel like, tied to me, while you’re here. I’m okay with being alone.”

“I’m not okay with you being alone,” Matty says without a second thought, grabbing his things out of his bag and opening the door for you, waiting for you to lead the way. He follows you closely and watches you as you stare at the scenery around you. You’ve always been this way, a city person at heart, from the moment he met you, you talked about moving to the city. Granted, he didn’t know that it would be New York City, but he did always know you would wind up somewhere with hustle and bustle, and you would fit in.

“Quit staring at me,” you say, not willing to look away from the sight of the car passing over the bridge. Having to leave feels so bittersweet. On one hand, you are excited to be home, to be living in London and around your friends. On the other, you know that you’re going to miss the city you’ve fallen in love with. It’s been your true love for so long, it feels like heartbreak.

“I’m not staring,” Matty says, turning his head out the window, a smirk fighting to curve across his mouth. “You’re staring at me, now.” His smile is wide when you quickly turn away from looking at him, the view of the store coming in front of you. “Come on, sicky. I’m sure you dragged me here for a puzzle that you certainly will not finish.”

“I will finish it,” you say, rolling your eyes and climbing out of the car behind him. Matty takes your hand, and you can feel electricity and heat wash through your body, entangling your nerves. “I want an artsy one. Not sure which one, but something pretty.”

Matty nods and you walk through the store quietly, neither of you saying much. There are too many unspoken words in the air and neither of you are willing to start the conversation. Matty points towards the aisle with the puzzles, and you follow him, standing quietly as you peruse the options and try to find one that calls your name. Your eyes follow his movements, tallying the new tattoos and the significance of different ink on his skin. You always told him that you wanted a tattoo, but you were never willing to go alone.

“Ah, you can make your own puzzle with a picture,” he says, drawing you out of your trance and towards an advertisement. “Do we have time for that?”

“I don’t think so,” you say, shaking your head. “Could you grab that one? That looks easy enough,” you add, pointing towards a tree of life puzzle on the very top shelf. Matty reaches for it easily, grabbing it and handing it to you to look at. “Perfect, thank you,” you say quietly, taking it from his hands, and without a second though, you kiss his cheek. His eyes go wide, and you can see the thoughts swirling around in his head. “Matty, seriously, don’t even think about it, I’m sick. I can’t get you sick before we fly home.”

“Have I ever cared about anything like that before?” Matty says seriously, turning towards you and taking a step forward, his body dangerously close to yours. “Are you really telling me not to?”

“No,” you swallow, and you can feel every nerve inch into your throat, your heart beating so loudly you can feel it reverberating in your ears. “Are you drunk or high? I don’t,” you pause, thinking very carefully about what you’re going to say next, “this can’t be like the other times.”

“YN, I just got off a plane three hours ago.” His body is now so close, you can feel his chest against yours, his breath hot against your face. You feel suffocated in this moment, too enraptured by the way being around him feels and the way he smells and the way his eyes have not left your lips, not even once. His hands come to your cheeks, a feeling you know all too well. “Can I?”

“Please,” you whisper, and suddenly your breath is taken away by his mouth on yours. Kissing him, it feels like sharing oxygen, like flying. Kissing him, it feels like every wrong decision is right and every bad thing is good. Kissing him, it feels like coming home. Kissing him, it feels like what you should’ve been doing all along. “I want to go home,” you mutter against his lips, and you can feel him smile against you. You can’t see it with your eyes closed, but the way his mouth is leaving open mouthed kisses on your cheek, it’s easy to tell.

“Take me home.”

Three simple words that have so much meaning, so much weight. Take me home. Take me home to your house. Take me home where we can be alone. Take me home where I can finally be with you, the way I’ve always wanted to be with you. Take me home, where we can start something, we’ve been waiting our whole lives for. Take me home, where I can be yours forever.

And the tension is there when you’re getting out of the car, and when you’re walking the stairs to get into the apartment, and when you’re quietly moving about the apartment trying to avoid talking to him about what just happened at all costs. Matty shuts and locks the door behind you, watching you mill about the apartment anxiously as he’s pressed against the wall, arms folded in front of his chest. You walk around him a few times, jumping back and forth from the kitchen to grab wine glasses that you were shipping out tomorrow and a wine bottle that you bought specifically for you two to share and the puzzle on the ground next to your makeshift mattress for the next day before you leave. Until finally, he can’t take it anymore.

“I don’t care about the bloody fucking puzzle, YN,” Matty says suddenly, cutting you out of your anxious thought wheel and walking directly over to you, grabbing your cheeks, and kissing you deeply, kissing you hard. His breath feeds you, and you feel like you could exist in this bubble for a long time, never needing anything else. “I want you so badly.”

“I want you, too,” you sigh, a moan leaving your lips as his hands begin wandering around your skin. “I don’t want this to be just a one-off thing, Matty. I don’t want to be a one-off thing.”

“You have never been a one-off thing,” he says sternly, gently tugging at the hem of your shirt and pulling it above your head with ease. He’s warm, and he’s almost certain it’s not from the heat of your apartment. “I have never, ever wanted anyone the way I want you. I love you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say ‘I love you’ back,” you say, and it’s the very first time in minutes that Matty has pulled away from you to really look at you. His heart softens, his thumb brushing under your cheek as a stray tear falls. All the emotions all at once are hitting you, and it feels like it’s too much, but you don’t want to stop, you don’t want this moment to end. It’s you and him. You and Matty, for the first time, and it feels just how it’s supposed to feel, “I’m sorry I didn’t say it back, back then, and I hope it’s not too late now to say it.”

“It’s not, baby. It’s not too late,” he assures you, leaning his forehead against yours and breathing against your lips. “I am still in love with you. I am in love with you. Nothing’s changed. Nothing about that has changed four years later.”

“I love you,” you say, and it’s easy, the words are easy coming from you to him. Matty smiles, leaning down and kissing you passionately, his hands reaching under your thighs and lifting you onto his waist, carrying you a few steps backwards to where your makeshift bed is. “I’m sorry about the bed.”

“Don’t care about the bed,” Matty whispers against your lips, setting you on your feet and working quickly to undo the buttons on your jeans. He’s skilled at this, you’ve noticed, the multitude of times he’s hurriedly worked to undo your jeans at family parties seemingly coming in handy, at this very moment. He’s heard you moan before; he’s made you orgasm, but it’s never gone this far, it’s never been this, and there’s an anticipation killing both of you that you are not willing to play with. “I have a condom in my wallet.”

“You’re an asshole,” you laugh, shaking your head as you kick your jeans to the side and take a seat on the edge of the makeshift mattress. All you have on is your bralette and a seamless pair of underwear, not exactly the most ideal pairing, but something about it makes this feel even more perfect. Nothing was expected or certain. Like you two. Matty scrambles in his bag for the condom, and you can’t help but laugh watching him. He’s hurried and frantic and you have to remind him, “I am quite cold over here, but I’m not going anywhere. Take your time, I guess.”

“I’m doing my best,” Matty says with a grunt, swearing once or twice before smiling widely and waving the packets in his hand excitedly. “And I’m not an asshole, I just had very high hopes.”

“Extremely high.”

“You’re naked, aren’t you? Doesn’t seem like such a far-fetched hope to me.”

“And my clothes are right there,” you reply back with a smirk, pointing at your jeans and shirt piled together in the corner of the room. “Can put them back on in two seconds and we can go back to that lovely puzzle and my bottle of wine.”

“I’ll run into traffic.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

Matty shrugs off his sweater and his jeans, carefully leaning down and climbing over you, his warmth covering you completely. “I love you.” His face leans down and kisses you, the condoms forgotten somewhere beside you and the duvet at the edge of the mattress getting pulled over his back to cover you in extra warmth. “I would’ve waited a lifetime for you. I’m so glad I didn’t have to, though. That might’ve killed me.”

“I wouldn’t have made you wait that long,” you assure him, your hands holding his cheeks and threading through his hair. His hips dip against yours, and you can feel him hard and heavy against your core. You want him, and you don’t think you can wait any longer. Your hands move from his cheeks, trailing down his chest, pushing his boxers down his thighs. He pushes the material off his legs, leaning back onto his feet to look at you in front of him. “I clearly didn’t think this would happen. I’m not entirely, you know, ready.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Matty says, his hands reaching behind your back and slipping your bralette off your body, his mouth immediately kissing alongst your chest, ghosting over your breasts and down your stomach. His hands are warm against your, but the goosebumps rising along your body from his touch is invigorating. He drags your underwear down your legs, kissing inside your thighs sweetly before climbing back up to meet you face to face. “I have so many things I want to do with you. You are just so beautiful.”

“You have time, Matty. I’m not going anywhere. I love you.”

Matty fumbles with the condom wrapper for a moment, earning a giggle and a muffled laugh from him as he lays his hand over your mouth to quiet the laughter. He leans over you when it’s fully wrapped around him, his mouth heavy on yours. His fingers gently drag alongst your center, your arousal coating his fingertips and earning a moan from both of you. His cock moves easily against you, you’re so ready for him and anticipating this, that all you want is for him to finally be with you. “This is it. You’re coming home. I love you. And you love me. It’s us, now.”

“Us,” you whisper, a moan escaping your throat as he slowly inches himself into you, his forehead falling to yours and his mouth desperately finding yours to kiss you, to swallow your moans and your breaths and feel every part of you that he can. Matty’s arms are next to your face and your feel held and safe with him, like there’s nothing that could possibly go wrong while you’re like this. His hand slides between you, rubbing at the nerves between your thighs and kissing along your neck, your fingers dragging alongst his back as your legs circle around his waist, bringing him impossibly closer. His curls are clinging to his forehead with sweat, and you feel like your body is on fire, but it’s something you’ve craved for so long that you’re basking in it, that it’s everything you’ve wanted to feel. His thrusts are driven and hitting the right places and you think that it’s quite possible that you were always made to be together, that his body was made for you to enjoy and you for his. “I love you,” you whimper, your whole body tightening and your nails digging into his shoulders as your orgasm washes over you. His body stills above you, your legs still wrapped around his waist, and you can feel him release, his body easing into yours. He doesn’t want to move, but he knows he has to, and you hate the feeling of losing his warmth.

“Don’t move, baby. I’ll be right back,” he hums, kissing you sweetly as he slowly slides out and removes the condom, and he turns around when you giggle, your eyes fully fixated on his backside. “Are you staring at my ass?”

“Yes.”

“Is it nice?”

“Very.”

Matty laughs, shaking his head as he walks towards the wall and turns the heat another notch, before walking back towards you and sinking under the comforter with you. He lays on your chest, his hand wrapping around your waist, his fingers dragging along the curve of your side. “You don’t have to be so worked up, now. I know you, I know you’ve been awake all day because you were nervous about me coming.”

“I was not nervous.”

“You were nervous,” he says surely, his forearm supporting his body weight as he trails his fingers up your body and begins tracing your lips. He’s always been enthralled by your lips, by the way they feel on his. “You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“Have you already told the guys?” you ask, turning your head slightly to give him better access to your skin, your eyes remaining closed and only listening to the sound of his voice. Outside, the stars and the moon are shining through the window, casting a perfect light over you.

“Told them what?”

“Don’t play dumb, Matthew.”

“They knew at Walmart.”

“I hate you so much,” you say, trying to hide the smile and the laughter that is fighting its way to the surface with your hands covering your face. Matty pulls your hands away, and you look at him, your eyes meeting his softly. “What are you looking at me like that for?”

“I have something that may make you feel better.”

“I doubt that.”

“I mean, the guys don’t know that you’ve given me head every Christmas since you moved to New York, if that makes you feel better,” he smiles, the smirk on his face telling you everything he isn’t.

“And look at that! Tradition just ended. Just in the nick of time for this year,” you say, smacking his arm and turning around in the bed to face away from him. Matty wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest and kisses your shoulder sweetly. “I’m going to be travelling a lot for work. How are we going to do it?”

“You and I can figure that out,” Matty says surely, kissing the indent of your shoulder once more before gently guiding you to lay on your back, his eyes meeting yours. “I don’t want you to see anyone else.”

“I don’t want to see anyone else.” Matty leans down to kiss you, and you hum against him, a content smile breaking apart your lips. “How many of the guys bet on this happened? I want to know.”

“I don’t think it was much of a bet of if it would happen,” he says, his fingers pushing stray strands of hair away from your forehead softly. “More of when.”

“Great! Happy to know they think I’m easy, Matthew.”

“Not my fault they can judge a situation! Think about it, darling, you can only sneak off at holiday parties so many times before someone notices.” He’s right, and you know it. “Not to mention, we weren’t very good at hiding it.” His mouth leans against your cheek when you roll your eyes, he knows he’s won this time. “I want to go to Central Park before we leave.”

“Central Park is just landscaping that people don’t take care of properly and tourists littering. It’s practically Sea World for New York City.”

“Can you do anything without posing an argument?”

“No, and now you’re in for a lifetime of arguments. That’s on you.”

Matty smiles brightly because he wouldn’t care if you argued over the simplest things every minute for the rest of his life if it meant he got to be with you.

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part eleven: "The Night Together"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You had dinner at Matt's and discussed the information he found on Figueroa before you and Matt decide to progress your relationship further.

Or

You and Matt have sex. That's it, that's the chapter.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 5.7k

a/n: Matt and Reader finally have sex! It's awkward, too, because Reader is awkward, but as this series progresses, Matt breaks Reader out of her comfort zone (and we get a Spicy Matty soon!). You can find the other installments for this series that are currently posted on tumblr here!

Taking a pull from the beer in your hand, your eyes lingered on the thumb drive on Matt's coffee table where it sat beside your laptop and a mostly finished box of pizza. You had both spent almost an hour huddled over the laptop, scouring the information on the drive with you telling Matt everything you'd discovered on it.  

"So how exactly did you get this?" you asked him.

Beside you, Matt took a pull off of his beer, one of his arms slung over the back of his couch behind you. 

"I punched a few people," he said with a nonchalant shrug.

You shot him a pointed look. "That sounds like a vast oversimplification ," you said.  

"Hey, your description of what I do, not mine," he teased, shooting you a grin.

Your eyes landed back on the thumb drive, your fingers tapping against the beer bottle as you thought. "I can probably work up something soon. Send it Ellison's way. Reconfigure the next issue and get this published right away."

"Good," Matt said. "The sooner he goes away the better."

You finished your beer, rising to your feet and carrying the bottle to his recycling bin near the garbage in the kitchen. Now that you'd finished going over the documents on Figueroa and finished dinner, you weren't sure if you should just head out or not. Maybe even get started working up the article. Though Matt looked comfortable on his couch, his arm still slung over the back of it, his head turned just a bit over his shoulder as his eyes tracked your movements through the kitchen. He didn’t look remotely ready to get up and walk you out. And the close attention he currently had on you had you becoming nervous in his presence yet again. 

You gradually padded your way back towards the living room, making your way towards the couch. Sitting back down near him, you grabbed your bag from beside the coffee table and began to pack your laptop back inside. You grabbed the drive next, and somehow the little thing felt like it weighed more than it should have as you carefully stored it into your bag.

"You don't need to leave yet," Matt said, breaking the silence that had fallen. "Unless you want to."

Biting your lip, you paused your movements, your eyes darting to Matt beside you. His gaze was on your chest, his head canted to the side, brows just marginally furrowed like he was concentrating. Was he trying to read you right now?

You nervously cleared your throat, glancing back down to your bag as you closed it. “Do you…want me to stay?” you asked.

“I’d like you to, yes,” he answered. “If you’d like to.”

You carefully set the bag back on the side of his coffee table, sitting a bit farther back on his couch. One of your hands nervously tucked some hair behind your ear as you eyed him. You felt your heart rate pick up slightly–there could only be one reason he’d want you to stay at this point, right?

“I can stay,” you whispered.

His mouth pulled back into a slow smile before you watched him lean forward, carefully setting his almost finished beer onto his coffee table. Your eyes were glued to the way his arm muscles shifted and flexed at the simple gesture underneath the black cotton shirt. You realized you were staring as he leaned back into the couch, turning a bit more towards you as he situated himself on the leather cushions. Swallowing hard, you glanced down to where your hands were now nervously fiddling with a loose string on your jeans.

“Do you need to uh, go out and punch more people tonight?” you asked lamely.

He exhaled a sharp, amused breath at the question. “No,” he answered. “I planned to stay in with you coming over. I’m all yours tonight.”

Your fingers fiddled faster with the loose string, your face heating up at his words. Your mouth felt dry as you tried to think of anything to break the silence as he stared so intensely at you from the other side of the couch.

“So work hasn’t been so crazy with Foggy back?” you asked, your eyes still downcast.

From the corner of your eye you saw the way Matt shrugged lightly. “The workload lessened by the end of the week when he’d gotten caught up on everything,” he answered.

Nodding, aware of your own thundering pulse, you asked, “Did he and Marci enjoy their time in…it was Fiji they went, right?”

“Do you really want to discuss Foggy and Marci right now?” he asked, amused.

Your eyes darted up, catching the faint smirk on his beautiful mouth. One of his dark brows was raised up in amusement as he eyed you.

You awkwardly cleared your throat. “Well what do you…want to talk about?” 

He shrugged lightly again, his focus never wavering from you. He looked completely calm and collected beside you on the couch, meanwhile, you were certain he could probably feel your nerves.

“We can talk about anything,” he said slowly. “Or we don’t have to talk at all.”

His unvoiced suggestion hung heavily in the air. You felt that first warm flood of arousal strike you, the blood in your body abruptly shifting south. Lip caught between your teeth, you timidly watched him on the couch across from you. His eyes had narrowed almost imperceptibly as he studied you quietly in return. 

A moment later he was leaning towards you, reaching his hands out deliberate and slow. Your eyes followed their movements, your breathing increasing as his hands found your own. Carefully, he started to pull you towards him. He moved slowly, as if giving your brain plenty of time to register what was happening and giving you a chance to react and pull away or stop him. 

You didn’t want to though. You wanted to see where this was going.

Body following his direction, you let him tug you across the small gap between the two of you. Eventually you landed in his lap, one leg on either side of his, straddling him, your hips hovering just half a foot above his beneath you on the couch. His hands released yours, making their way to rest at your hips. Hesitantly, your own hands gently rested along his shoulders. 

“You’re nervous,” he murmured.

Truthfully, you were excited and increasingly becoming aroused. But you also felt like you were going to hyperventilate with him underneath you, gazing up at you like he was, his hands touching you. You still had no idea how this man wanted you.

“You still make me nervous,” you whispered.

“We don’t have to do anything,” he assured you. “Say the word. We can just talk.” 

When you didn’t say no, his hands on your hips gripped a bit tighter, carefully urging you to finally sink down onto his lap beneath you. The warmth of him through your jeans was already driving you wild. How was it possible for one person to make you feel like you were completely losing your senses?

“I don’t want to just talk,” you breathed out, the blunt admission surprising even yourself.

His plump lips tugged into a devilish smirk, his hands lowering to palm your ass on his lap. “Show me what you want then, sweetheart,” he told you. “Don’t be shy.”

And just like that, he’d dropped all the power to progress things in your lap. His head leaned back against the backrest of the sofa, his eyes landing on your chin as that devilish smirk remained on his mouth. You were pretty sure your heart was going to fall out of your own mouth at this point, especially with the way his hands were softly kneading along your ass over your jeans.

But you’d also dreamt of this moment for over a year. Matt under you, you touching him, kissing him. Right now he was offering himself up to you and you were torn between attacking him like a horny, wild animal or restraining yourself for the sake of your nerves that were so terrified you’d do something and embarrass yourself.

Cautiously, your hands slid along his broad shoulders and up the length of his neck. You felt a faint rumble in his throat as your fingertips slid over the skin of it, your hips twitching along his lap just a fraction in response. Your eyes focused along his jaw, your left hand remaining against his neck as your right hand continued its way up, fingertips grazing the stubbled length of it. Slowly they slid their way up over the expanse of his cheek, up towards his temple. Matt’s eyelids fluttered closed under your touch. A louder hum of approval vibrated its way out of his throat, the sound reverberating against the hand still on his neck. Biting your lip, realizing you were working him up along with yourself, you slipped your hand back into his hair, carefully raking your fingers through it. He leaned into the touch instantly and you felt the growing need in you rising.

Eyes dropping down to his mouth, your gaze lingered on his slightly parted lips. Licking your own lips, your hand paused its passes through his hair, lowering instead to cup his cheek. Gradually you leaned down towards him, your own lips parting as both of your breaths mingled in the small space that was now separating you.

And then you closed the gap, caressing your lips just barely against his, your eyes slowly closing. The hand you had on his neck felt the bob of his throat as he swallowed. Timidly you kissed him, pressing your lips to his softly in a shy and innocent kiss. But as your mouth pulled back from his slightly, a wave of arousal hit you hard. As if Matt could sense it, his hands roughly tightened on your ass in response and an almost inaudible whine fell out of your mouth.

“Kiss me like I know you want to,” he ordered, his mouth grazing yours as he spoke.

Without hesitation, your mouth was back on his, an obvious level of hungry desperation in the way you crashed your lips down to his. You’d wanted this for so long–wanted him for so long. The more your mouth moved against his, the harder it was becoming to hold back. 

His mouth was moving just as feverishly against yours. One of his hands removed itself from your ass to grab the back of your head, holding you to him. His breathing was growing as shallow as yours now, sharp breaths exhaling from his nose as he kissed you.

Sucking the entirety of his bottom lip into your mouth, you moaned softly. That glorious, soft, perfect, pliable bit of flesh fit entirely into your mouth. Your tongue danced along the length of it, a deep grunt coming from Matt in response. Your tongue slid another pass over his lip and Matt’s hips shifted underneath you, the friction you briefly felt at the movement shooting a jolt of pleasure through your body. As if your hips were moving on their own, they pressed down harder against his lap before they drew back a little along it. Another wave of pleasure hit you at the friction, Matt’s lip falling from your mouth as you moaned out. His hand on your ass slid your hips forward and back into him and your teeth snapped down on your lip, fighting another moan as both of your hands dropped back to his thick shoulders, fingers digging into the flesh under his shirt as you tried to hold yourself up.

Both of his hands came down and readjusted themselves along your hips, slowly working in conjunction with your own movement, grinding yourself back and forth along him. You could feel the wet heat pooling between your legs with each pass of your hips along his lap, the shape of his erection through his own jeans slowly becoming apparent. When your eyes finally opened, Matt’s head was still resting along the backrest, his mouth slack, brows pinched together and his eyes closed. A shudder ran down your spine at the sight, your hips still grinding along his lap with his own hands guiding you. You could feel yourself already getting embarrassingly close to getting off and both of you were still fully clothed. 

“Fuck,” you whimpered, head falling forward and resting along his shoulder.

“What do you need?” he panted out, his mouth just beside your ear.

Your fingers dug further into his shoulders at the sound of his voice. God how it did things to you.

“You,” you breathed out. “I need you, Matt.”

His hands halted their movement on your hips and you groaned in response, your own hips coming to a stop with them. You felt him place a kiss to your temple before he spoke.

“You sure?” he asked. “There’s no pressure.”

You nodded, your forehead still resting along his left shoulder. “Yeah,” you answered. “Yeah, I want you, Matt. I’ve–I’ve wanted you for so long,” you admitted nervously.

“You’re not the only one,” he murmured.

His hands slid over your ass and down your legs, gripping underneath your thighs as he slid forward on the couch. The abrupt movement had your arms wrapping around his neck just before Matt rose from the couch, carrying you effortlessly in his arms. 

“Bed is probably more comfortable for you,” Matt said, rounding his coffee table. “Condoms are in the bedroom anyway.”

You buried your face further into his shoulder, your face heating up just a bit. You felt Matt’s head shift a little against you as he moved.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

You shook your head against his shoulder. “No, but uh, I’m on the pill and–and clean. If you are we don’t…don’t need a condom,” you muttered nervously into his shirt. “Unless you want to, of course.”

He chuckled lightly and you heard the distinct sound of a lightswitch being flipped on.

“I don’t think any man particularly wants to,” he said. “But are you sure? It’s no problem, I can–”

“I’m sure,” you cut him off.

He began lowering you, the bed quickly coming into contact with your back. Your arms released their hold around his neck, your gaze nervously staring up at Matt above you as he still continued to hold onto your legs. He looked moderately amused as he grinned back at you.

"Something against condoms?" he teased.

You flushed further, too embarrassed to admit that you'd rather not have the thin latex as a barrier between you and his cock, not after how long you'd been wanting to feel him fuck you with it. 

"Something like that," you mumbled out.

The grin remained on his face as the hands on your thighs abruptly tugged you closer to the edge of the bed. Caught by surprise, a faint yelp left you in response, which only caused Matt to grin wider. As he lowered himself to his knees before you, his hands sliding up the tops of your thighs and making their way up to the top of your jeans, easily slipping the button out, your eyes widened. 

Was Matthew Murdock about to go down on you?

Heat flooded you, your body feeling like it had just increased in temperature drastically. You were vaguely aware of the faint sound of your zipper before his hands reached up, grabbing the tops of your jeans on either side of your hips before he roughly yanked them down. In one swift movement they were almost to your ankles, your eyes still wide in shock. And then he tugged them off the rest of the way, chuckling lightly as he tossed them aside.

"If taking your pants off gets you that wound up," Matt teased, "I'm not going to have much of a challenge getting you off."

You didn't even know how to respond to that, so you didn't even bother trying. Not that Matt seemed to mind, considering he was too busy removing your underwear, his lips trailing kisses behind the fabric down your right leg as he did. He tossed those aside near your discarded jeans, his hands coming to rest on your knees afterwards. 

Gradually he parted your legs and you had a clear view of Matt's face between your thighs as you rested on your elbows along the bed. He leaned into your left leg, eyes closed as he rubbed his cheek along the inside of your knee and you noticed the way his tongue slipped out of his mouth, wetting his lips. He pulled back, his unfixed gaze landing near your face.

"You smell just as good as you taste," Matt murmured.

You had no idea what came over you or why you reacted as such, but your knees instantly clamped back together just in front of Matt's face. A blush instantly burned your cheeks as you cringed.

"Well…that was not the reaction I expected," Matt said, his tone a mixture of amusement and confusion. 

You fell back onto the silk sheets of his bed–they were ungodly soft–embarrassed. Your hands covered your face as you groaned.

"I have no idea why I did that," you grumbled. "I just became very self-conscious suddenly."

You felt one of Matt’s large, warm palms rub gently along your knee and you lowered your hands.

"You have no need to be self-conscious, sweetheart," Matt assured you. "Believe me, the scent of your arousal is…quite a turn on to me. I've been craving the taste of you for a while, especially after the other week."

Chewing your lip nervously, you slid your legs apart a little bit, Matt's smiling face coming back into view.

"Well, I certainly ruined the mood," you said with a nervous laugh. 

"Mmm, I don't think so," Matt answered. "I'm still very much into this if you are."

Chewing your lip still, you nodded slowly. "Yeah…I would very much like to pretend that didn't just happen," you murmured.

"Already forgotten," Matt whispered.

His head lowered to your left thigh, mouth placing a few wet, open mouthed kisses to the bare skin as his hands returned to your knees and spread them wider, making space for himself to slide in between them. You swallowed hard, trying to focus on the feel of his mouth kissing his way up your thigh and towards your cunt and not the embarrassing way you'd reacted to the knowledge that Matt could smell your arousal with his heightened senses. 

"Relax," Matt whispered against your leg.

You were about to make a sarcastic remark, your mouth opening and the sound of the first word almost out of your mouth, but then you felt the warm, wet flat of his tongue pressed against your slickened entrance and gliding its measured pace up towards your clit and the word quickly switched to a moan. 

His tongue made a second pass, just as slow and delicious as the first, and your head fell back over your shoulders, eyes closing. Your breathing was already coming in pants and he'd barely done anything. His hand slid up your thigh and under your shirt, resting over your hips and holding you to the bed. Next thing you felt were soft licks along your slit, the sensation drawing your hips as forward towards his mouth as far as you could get them with his hand splayed over your stomach holding you to the bed. 

His tongue slid inside of you next, thrusting in and out as one of his hands was kneading your thigh. Your hips squirmed under him, your hands fisting the silk sheets tight as you whimpered on the bed. The warmth of his tongue inside of you felt too damn good, your mind going blank at this point to anything but the way Matt was making you feel. 

When his tongue slowly pulled out of you, he leaned a bit forward and lightly licked your clit, two thick fingers immediately replacing the absence of his tongue. You felt like your eyes were about to roll permanently into the back of your skull, a hiss of pleasure flying out between your lips. 

"Feels good, does it?" Matt asked.

Your eyes opened, head rolling forward. Matt's fingers were still fucking you but his mouth was hovering above your clit, his warm breath washing over you with his own pants. His mouth was dampened with spit and your arousal as he grinned proudly back at you. The sight had your heart beating a little faster. You were about to answer, but then the two fingers curled inside of you and it felt so good. 

"Shit, Matt," you whined, your head falling back. 

"I'll take that as a yes," he murmured. 

His tongue was back on your clit, the way he was drawing circles with the front and back tip of his tongue had your legs beginning to tremble on the bed. His fingers continued their vigorous pace, relentlessly fucking you, your hands still gripping tight to the sheets. 

But when he sucked your clit into his mouth, a moan vibrating from in his own chest, you felt your orgasm fast approaching. Your eyes opened, taking in the sight of Matt attentively sucking and licking your clit before you, two fingers pumping rapidly inside of you, and you were on the edge, teetering and close to falling over it. Your hips were trying hard to thrust up into his face, but his hand still held you firm. 

The second time you heard him moan, enjoying eating you out, you were done. Your head fell back to the sheets, a moan falling out of your slack mouth, your thighs tightening around his face, legs trembling almost violently as you fell over the edge of your climax. Just as he'd done before, he carefully worked you through it, dragging your orgasm out as much as he could. When you were a panting mess on his bed, his fingers slipped out of you and his mouth lowered, lapping up the slick noisily, greedily tasting every last drop. The sight had you gnawing your bottom lip. 

Eventually he pulled away, his own eyes closed as his tongue made a few passes around his lips, trying to catch every bit of your arousal. And fuck if that wasn't getting you hot and bothered all over again. 

"So," Matt said, eyes slowly opening and a grin slipping onto his glistening lips, "I thoroughly enjoyed that, and I'm guessing you did, too."

You laughed a little nervously, nodding your head along the bed. "Yeah, maybe a bit," you answered breathlessly. 

The grin didn't leave his face as he stood up. You watched as his hands grabbed the hem of his shirt, effortlessly pulling it up and over his head. Your eyes greedily scanned his bare torso, a sight you'd never seen but always imagined. There were a few scars along his chest and abdomen and you could see the perfect definition of absolutely every muscle. You barely registered him taking off his pants, your mind too busy imagining what it would be like to run your tongue over every dip and crevice of his muscles, your face flaming at the thought.

"You're definitely staring," Matt teased.

His voice broke you out of your dirty thoughts and brought you back to the present. He was pulling his dark boxers off now, his very hard cock springing forth as he slipped the dark material down his thick thighs. Unconsciously a hand flew to your mouth, jaw slightly dropping and eyes widening. A faint noise almost like a squeak quietly left you at the sight of him.

Holy shit this man was perfect .

His head tilted to the side, the movement catching your attention and once again drawing you back to the present. 

"You are definitely staring," Matt pointed out with a faint laugh. 

"I had no idea all of that was hiding under your suits," you blurted. 

His expression grew smug as he headed towards the bed, his hands finding yours and drawing you to sit up. 

"I'd like to find out what's hiding under your shirt still," Matt replied.

His hands quickly pulled up the fabric of your shirt, easily taking it off and tossing it aside. And then his warm palms slid to your back, unhooking your bra clasp. His hands landed back up on your shoulders, his fingers grabbing the straps and very slowly dragging them down both of your arms simultaneously. The movement drew a trail of goosebumps in the wake of his fingers, your body shuddering and wanting him to touch more of you. He tossed the bra aside and nudged you, leading you all the way back on the bed towards the pillows. 

Hesitantly you sat at the top of his bed, Matt pushing your legs farther open to make space for himself between them. One of his hands reached out, carefully grabbing your chin and drawing your mouth in towards his. The kiss was gentle and you could taste the faint tang of yourself on his lips. 

Pulling back, you nervously reached your own hands out. They hovered in the air just above his chest as his hand lowered from your chin, gliding down the length of your neck. Your breathing once again picked up to a shallow pant in response. 

"You can touch me," Matt assured you, a small, cheeky smile on his face. 

Blushing, your hands tentatively fell onto his chest. The skin was smooth and warm beneath your fingers and you could feel the solid muscle just below. You swallowed hard, your heart feeling like it was hammering in your throat as your fingertips traced lower, down to his defined abdominal muscles. Pleasure rippled through you as you watched them faintly twitch under your light touch. 

His other hand was on you soon after, resting on your hip lightly as the other snaked its way down your collarbone and over towards your right breast below it. He cupped the full weight of it in his hand and you looked up at him through your lashes. His other hand began sliding up your stomach slowly, eventually coming to cup your other breast. Gently his hands kneaded the flesh, squeezing it firmly in his hands. Your nails dug into his muscles beneath your hands in response. 

"You're beautiful," he whispered. 

You found yourself flushing under his compliment, though the nervous thoughts that had started to appear quickly disappeared when he began rolling your nipples between his fingers. Your cunt suddenly clenched tight around emptiness as a whine left you. Before you on the bed, Matt was biting his bottom lip, a look of pleasure on his face. The sight left you abruptly overcome with the urge to feel him. Boldly one of your hands dipped lower, grabbing onto the base of his hard cock. A deep rumble sounded in Matt's chest immediately as a thrill shot through you. 

You gripped him a bit firmer, your hand gradually stroking down the length of him, your eyes carefully watching his face. His eyes had fallen shut as your hand moved along him, but the moment your thumb grazed the tip of his cock, pre-cum wetting the pad of your finger, you saw his face pinch just a bit tighter, a groan falling out of his mouth. Yet again your cunt clenched around air. 

"I can't–" he began, pausing as a hiss fell from him when your thumb passed over the tip of him again, goosebumps drawing over you excitedly at his response to you , "–can't wait much longer, sweetheart. And it–it seems like you're aching for it, too. Can I?"

You nodded, a breathy hum of affirmation all the signal he needed. His mouth was back on yours, kissing you roughly as he lowered you to the bed. His hands boxed you in, resting on either side of your face on the pillow as his knees further nudged your legs open wider for him. 

A moment later one of his hands was down guiding his cock to your wet entrance. He rubbed the tip along your slick, coating himself with it as a contented sound rolled out of him. And then he pressed himself into you, just barely, and your back arched up towards him, your eyes widening as a faint hiss of pleasure and surprise left you. 

He was thick. The bit of him barely inside of you was taking your cunt a moment to stretch and adjust for. Matt patiently waited, his mouth sucking lightly on the skin just below your jaw. A moment later, as if reading your body perfectly, he sunk his cock inside of you just a bit further. This time you moaned, your hands flying up to his back, fingers roughly digging into the flesh beneath them. 

"You ready for me, sweetheart?" he asked against your neck. 

You bit your lip, nodding. "Yes," you breathed out. 

And then he sunk all the way into you, your eyes once again feeling ready to make a permanent residence in the back of your skull. He filled you. And it felt unbelievably good. 

His hips began to thrust into you in a slow, fluid motion at first. Your eyes flew back open, reveling in the pants and grunts from Matt as he fucked you. Your hands didn't know what to touch, your eyes didn't even know where to look. You wanted to take all of him in. And as your hands roamed his back and his shoulders, nails raking over his skin, your gaze kept oscillating between the look of pleasure on his own face as he fucked you, the pull of muscles in his arms as he held himself up over you, and the contraction of his abdominal muscles each time his hips thrust back into you. 

If you were to ever wonder what it would be like to be fucked by a Greek God, sex with Matthew Murdock would be it. 

The sight of him on top of you blissed out, his brows pinched and mouth open as he grunted and moaned with the motion of his hips, thoroughly enjoying fucking you, was almost enough on its own to push you over the edge to your second orgasm. But then he lowered onto his forearms, the sweat slicked front of himself flush to yours, and he set a faster pace. 

Your head fell back along the pillow, needy, breathy whines filling the room around you as your hands clung to his shoulders, holding him against you. Your hips began moving faster into his, matching his pace and allowing his cock to hit just a bit deeper inside of you. His forehead lowered to rest atop yours.

"Just like that, sweetheart," he grunted. 

You moaned, the sound of his voice sending a shudder through you. Matt's nose gently nuzzled the side of your face, his hips still working their fast pace into you. 

"You like the sound of my voice, don't you?" he whispered. "I can feel how your body reacts to it."

Your nails dug into Matt's shoulders. "I like everything about you, Matty," you answered him. 

You could feel the smile form along his mouth before he kissed your temple. His hips slammed particularly hard into you a moment later and your own hips stuttered underneath him, your back arching your body into him as he held his cock deep inside of you. You moaned loudly, the sound filling his bedroom. Your cunt was tightening around his cock as he resumed his fast pace again, Matt now making such wonderful noises that you mindlessly smashed your lips back to his to swallow down the sounds. 

His hips slammed hard back into you again, holding himself there until your toes curled on the bed and your head rolled back, releasing his mouth as you cried out. 

"That's it, sweetheart," he praised. 

"Matt," you whimpered, "I'm–"

His hips rammed into you again and you cried his name, hands clinging to his shoulders like a lifeline as you came hard a second time on his cock, your body quaking beneath his. 

His head fell to your neck as he mumbled an "oh, fuck ." And then his hips vigorously and sloppily pumped into you, chasing his own release as he grunted louder and louder. 

Breathing hard, you ran one hand through his hair while the other slid its way down his sweat soaked back, urging his movements into you with your hand. 

"I want you to cum for me, Matty," you whispered beside his ear, ignoring the blush that threatened to spread over your face at your bluntness. 

You heard him whisper your name in response, and your name from his mouth with him fucking you so well drew goosebumps onto your skin. A few thrusts later he came inside of you, a loud moan flying from his throat as his hips stuttered to a stop, the warmth of him filling you as he came. 

Panting hard, he placed a quick kiss to your lips before he pulled himself slowly out of you. The loss of him inside of you was disappointing, leaving you feeling suddenly very empty. 

He rolled onto his back next to you, your shoulders brushing as you both tried to catch your breath. As your senses came back to you, you felt that giddy rush flood your system just like it had weeks ago the morning after the wedding–Matt and you were dating now and you were the woman he wanted to spend his time fucking senseless. A smile spread itself wide across your mouth as your head turned along the pillow towards Matt. He copied the movement, his unfixed gaze falling along your neck as he smiled back, his hair a slight mess and his own face flushed from exertion. 

"What?" he asked curiously. "Your heart randomly sped up."

"Just happy," you mumbled out. 

Matt turned onto his side, a hand coming out to grasp your hip, pulling you into him. 

"Me too," he whispered, still smiling. "You want to stay the night?"

Your smile somehow widened, your hand reaching up to trace along his jaw. You knew you were going to enjoy being able to do that whenever you wanted. 

"I'd like that," you whispered back.

[historia-vitae-magistras]

You got anymore fics or hc of Alfred being a good brother to his 8ft tall beanpole?

'tis garbage I wrote about 20 years ago and is poorly recycled but here! enjoy if you can lmao. TW for poorly written ptsd, references to beheading and axe murder and snuggles.

1920, Quebec City.

"I'm fine." His baby brother said, even as he looked like he desperately needed to lay down.

"Matt, that cough does not sound good,"

"It's fine," He said, stifling another fit with a harsh swallow. Alfred grimaced and jogged to keep up as Matt strode ahead on the rain-battered sidewalk and took the umbrella with him, like speeding up would disprove the implication he wasn't at perfect 100%. How could it sound like he'd been gassed recently?

"You sound miserable,"

"It's fine," Matthew said again, shrugging and knuckling his chest as he struggled to keep his breathing even. "It's just the weather. Tell me about the new Ford coming out,"

"Oh it's a beauty, they're even going to come out with other colours than black," Alfred said, longing to reach out and squeeze Matt's shoulder and steer him inside. "But it will mostly only affect internal market goods.

"Interesting. What are the implications with free trade?"

"Don't try to distract me. I know you don't give a shit about economic law unless you're being forced,"

"If it interests you, it interests me,"

"You can't force yourself to be quiet through this,"

Matt rolled his eyes. "I'm not dying,"

"You kind of sound like you are,"

"Then I'll die!" Matt shrugged and gave one of his rare, frustrated Gallic shrugs. "C'est la vie! And honestly, it'd be nice to sleep without waking up coughing. Wake up and go to work tomorrow with more than an hour of sleep behind me,"

Alfred frowned, a surge of helplessness as he watched Matt press on through the rain as if determined to outpace whatever was wrong. Alfred lengthened his stride to keep up and get back under the umbrella, snatching it from Matt’s hand to make him slow down.

“Come on,” He said, steering them both down the path towards the subway stop.

Halfway down the park hill, he couldn't stifle anymore and ended up clinging to a tree branch, doubled over and coughing so hard veins corded at his forehead and throat and when he breathed, he shuddered through another bout so hard Alfred thought he was going to throw up all over the park path. He sucked in air and the wheeze that accompanied it was so horrific Alfred grabbed his shoulders and steered him to a bench as Matthew tried to get his breathe. Air coming in and out rapidly and almost uselessly like Matt was breathing through shredded black smiths billows. Alfred pulled him upright.

Two neatly dressed couples threw them dirty looks like Matt was some infectious consumptive polluting a public park. Alfred glowered right back. He might have flirted with the one who’s dainty green dress that was fashionably short to show off shapely legs but now he was just frustrated.

"Go fuck off to the circus if you want to gawk at something!" He yelled and the men sped along, dragging the women with them. Matt made another face gesturing for Alfred to stop but couldn't get words out as coughing wracked him all over again.

It was another five minutes of Matt coughing and coughing and coughing before he stopped and collapsed on Alfred's shoulder, heaving.

"Jesus Christ, Matt," Alfred said. “You sound like you’re dying.

"I’m not—" Matt heaved air, it caught in his throat and he hacked out another pounding cough that left him spasming and shivering against Alfred. "It comes and goes,"

"Are you sure it's not consumption?"

"Yeah, Dad made them x-ray me three times during demobilization, I'm just like this now,"

"What? Chronically asthmatic?"

Matt shook his head. "I’m not chronically anything. It’s just a bad day every now and and again."

"Is that what doctors say?"

Matt nodded and leaned more heavily onto him, panting again.

"You're burning up," Alfred could feel it against his coat. “Mattie…”

Another nod. “Like I said, it comes and goes.”

He sighed, getting them to their feet. “Christ, Matt.”

“Oh, don’t look so sad.” Matt rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, the supply of your favourite whiskey isn’t about to dry up.”

“Is that what you think? Fuck you.” Alfred scowled. “You’re such a–” Realization dawned on him and he turned to his brother, grabbing his shoulder again. “You little shit. You’re trying to piss me off so I leave this alone, aren’t you?”

Matt blinked, taken aback. “Fuck me, you finally figured that one out?”

“You little asshole,” He laughed. “That is so manipulative.”

“Hardly. You’re so self righteous usually all I have to do is mention Dad and you’ll leave me alone for a month. What is this? Character development?” He laughed, and the coughing started again.

This time, Matt didn’t argue when Alfred insisted they go home. The grey stone heart of his brother’s first city, into the stone houses behind the stone walls the English and the Americans had besieged more than once. Behind slate walls, warm wood greeted them as they passed through the red door with the same iron hinges, squashed between what had once been the apothecary and the bakery. Matt had once been stingy with the firewood but now he had electricity and the coal fired boiler in the basement that heated the house beyond the parlour with its polished brass fire grate and brick hearth.

"Sit," Matth said as he leaned against the wall. He threw aside his damp coat and propped himself against the worn wood. Scrubbing his damp hair off his forehead, he sighed. "I guess I should make coffee and sandwiches or something."

“Will you bite my head off if I offer to make something?” Alfred asked, cautiously toeing off his shoes.

Matt gave a wry sort of look, almost amused. “No.”

“Hallelujah.” Alfred replied, throwing his hands above his head.

“Don’t push it.” Matt said but his face was light.

Alfred chuckled and headed to the kitchen. He rummaged through the cabinets, with all the fine little details of grapevines heavy with fruit and swirling knotwork that reminded him of Aunt Brighid’s embroidery. He thumbed one and wished she was there. She wouldn’t put up with this. He put on water to boil, dug a slightly dessicated chicken carcass out of the fridge, tore it apart to make sandwiches, put the bones on to make soup and returned to the living room with a mug and a plate for each of them.

Matt was sprawled on sofa, his face pink. Alfred didn’t want to wake him up, they both spent so much time ignoring the other’s nightmares these days. He still looked like Matt when he was asleep, sweet and still, like the man the cherubic baby Matt should have grown into rather than the wraith that had to shake off their father or the trenches. But he was feverish and Alfred made himself wake him.

“Here,” He said, handing Matt tea and the sandwich.

“Thanks.” Matt said quietly. He drank the tea eagerly but set the plate down next to him.

“Eat that.” Alfred said, taking a bite out of his own and throwing himself onto the leather chair. “You always do this when you’re sick. Don’t want to eat, don’t want to bother anyone, don’t want to admit you feel like ass. Just like Dad. It’s fucking annoying.”

“No one said you have to be here.” Matt glared, but he had picked up the sandwich and taken a decent bite. “Happy?”

“Never happy when you’re miserable.”

Matt snorted. “Oh, that’s bullshit.”

“Stop.” Alfred sat forward, hands on each of the chair’s arms. “Stop, okay? God. I know you’re–”

“Know I’m what?” Matt took another bite of the stupid sandwich and there was a flash of something flinty and dark behind his eyes Alfred didn’t like.

“Like how you always are after a war,”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you get good at killing and keeping everyone alive and–”

“And what?” Matt said.

“You get shit at everything anything else.” Alfred desperately wanted a cigarette but it felt a bit cruel. “Bring back Gilbert’s head like some sort of fucked up barn cat, sure, you’re great at that. But lay down and act like a human being? God forbid.”

“Oh don’t you–” Matt sighed through his nose and ate more, and too Alfred’s bewilderment, smiled. “You know how often I tell Dad something like that?”

Alfred stared, but leaned back, holding his coffee. “You back talk the old man?”

“Bringing Gilbert’s head back like a fucked up barn cat gave me some leeway.” Matt said, the sly smile on his face fading into something more serious. “But yeah. By the end, by the hundred days, we talked. About what I did. About what he didn’t stop. And I told him to shove it up his ass sometimes. He’s a hypocrite and so am I.”

“Sometimes.” Alfred responded. “You’re still a pretty good brother though.”

“Thanks.” Matt said. “I try.”

“I know.” Alfred said. “And I’m sorry I don’t sometimes.”

Matt shrugged. “Not your job. You don’t have to waste your time if you don’t want too. I’ll live, the overpriced booze will keep flowing. I shut up and do my job, everyone benefits. It’s fine.”

“We’re brothers.” Alfred said. “We’re supposed too… I don’t know.”

“You’re a rising great power, I’m the favourite knife of the British Empire. We have our roles. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want too.”

“Matt–”

He’d drooped against the arm of the sofa, breathing ragged, unable or unwilling to reply.

“You with me?”

“Yeah.” He responded, hoarse. “Sorry.”

“Is this from the gas too?”

“Yeah,” He didn’t off anymore of an explaination and Alfred shook his head.

“Dumbass,” He stood, and crouched to reach out. He gently placed the back of his hand against his brother’s forehead. “All you have to do is ask for help and, fuck, I think you’re warmer.”

“Just tired.” He murmured, but he didn’t open his eyes.

“Mattie…” How many times in a day could he let denial slide before it was stupid? Matt was trying to rally himself, push Alfred off and reach for the tea, muttering about how he was fine when there was a loud crack. The windows rattled and suddenly he had his arms full of his brother, shaking like the last maple leaves on the trees, eyes screwed shut and mouthing something in French Alfred couldn’t make out.

“Hey,” Alfred laughed nervously. “Hey, you cold?”

“They’re coming.” Matt said, and the fever flush had disapeared. He looked bloodless. “They’re coming.”

“Hey.” Alfred suddenly understood. “Hey it’s okay. I’m right here. Matthew, I am right here. Nothing’s wrong. It was a car backfiring, not gunfire. No one’s coming.”

Matt leaned in more, burying his face in Alfred. “You don’t let anything happen to me.”

“Never have, never will.” Alfred rested one cheek on Matt’s feverish head. He held on tight, feeling the tremors that sprang through Matt until they stilled. But Matt’s breathing was still fast and shallow. He hadn’t been this close in a while, and the path of Matt’s spine showed through his layers, and he’d had that pinched up look half his life.

“Come on.” He said, gently. “Bed.”

“No.” He burrowed against Alfred more tightly, like he was four, barely spoke English and it was a cold morning he didn’t feel like greeting just yet. He’d always had a streak of stubbornness.

Eventually, Alfred got him up, got him to change and horizontal. He was a little delirious, shivering between the sheets and coughing until he was curled in a ball and muttering about how he needed his axe. But he didn’t get up to get it. He breathed through a split lip and rolled around trying to get comfortable. Alfred fed him pills and glass after glass of water, and somewhere around the seventh, Matt seemed to pass out into real sleep. Alfred sat on the bed and pressed his hands to Matt’s cheeks and was relieved to find it a little cooler.

Matt rolled over towards him, hugging his side, demanding warmth and making a contented sound when Alfred let him with a snort. “You always were a snuggly baby.”

[lottiecrabie]

obsessed with the idea of tutor!matty not being able to drive. im just imagining him having gone to the library or the cinema or something with his group of nerd friends and she’s outside to pick him up to hangout and all his friends are like wtf?? because what’s she doing here and then he leaves with her all smily and giggly

he’s her passenger princess <3 her waiting outside of the arcade or the comicbook convention with her girly pop music Blasting, all windows down, reapplying her lipgloss. matty’s like ok bye guys my rides here! equally obsessed with her being a Terrible driver and he has to cling onto dear life while she knocks garbage cans and blows red lights

[betweenthings2]

big light pt 2 when queen 👀👀

It's coming soon, I promise. I know I said I meant to have it up earlier this week, but I am garbage and it's been a week. The document is currently at 6.5k words and every time I open it, I make it sadder and longer and there's so much more to unpack. Fictional!Matty is so sad and fictional!George is trying very hard, but he's also very sad. Hopefully it's done this weekend, but that depends on how if I actually have to do things at work tomorrow and also how horrible the event I have to work on Saturday is.

Here's a little snippet as an apology.

 Matty shakes his head. "It's my fault, George. No matter how you spin it, it's all my fault. I caused the problem, I can deal with it."

George sighs and tries again with, "All I'm saying is that you don't have to. You can talk to someone."

"I'm not telling a fucking stranger the things I haven't even told you," Matty says.

"What haven't you told me?" George asks.

Matty turns his gaze to the floor and quietly says, "I'm not talking about it right now."

This isn't George's Matty. George's Matty is bright and far more open. He talks to George. He says more of what he's thinking, he doesn't hide secret projects or second guess when someone does something nice for him. This Matty is an other to George. This Matty is something else and George isn't entirely sure he can fix it.

"When you are ready to talk about it, I'm here," George offers.

"Thanks," Matty mumbles. Then, "I'm not trying to hurt you, I just can't put the words together."

"I know you're not," George agrees, "but I worry about you. That's all."

[edenprime]

omg i thought i was the only one 😭😭 the album blends together and not in a good way, and i feel like there’s genuinely no effort in the lyrics? like ppl are gonna praise her writing but i literally went and listened to some folklore after and it’s so much better? like it’s not great songwriting AND it’s not a bop so what is it. (i did like who’s afraid of little old me tho and i like cassandra but i can imagine a version of it that’s 100 times better? like ur gonna invoke one of the most infamously screwed women in myth and do only that?)

exactly like i'm not even comparing her to other songwriters, i'm comparing her to herself!

even the better songs could've been so much better! like idk i'd have killed for a rock ballad, something like a more melancholy long live. i'm also not saying the whole thing is garbage. i like how she stuck it to the fans with but daddy i love him, because matty was a turd but the swifties really have no say in her dating life, and florida!!! is the only one that managed to get stuck in my head a little, but we're talking about 31 songs. 31 songs and each of us only found two (2) salvageable ones lol.

what happened to the reds and the 1989s, where you did not skip a song? what about folklore and evermore, where you had a cohesive album? there's such a mess with the themes and the sounds... idk, i feel like she tried to please everyone by having half the album by aaron and half by jack.

i read a critic that said something along the lines of "taylor said she needed to write all this, the thing is that maybe we didn't have to listen to it." and you know what. that's it. that's the problem. PRUNE IT!!! make it 15 songs instead of 30. make some hooks and write a banger or two. choose your favorites and have them edited by someone who's not your yes-man or your bestie. then, for the one year anniversary, release the b-side with the rest of the songs and hey! it would probably feel fresher that way.

[whydoifeelthisquiet]

I hope this is what makes it click for Taylor. Isn’t she a fan of Rina’s? And Matty owns Rina’s music ????!!!!!!

Like, at this point Taylor needs to a) DENOUNCE & speak out about this piece of garbage trash man and b) be supportive of Rina & help her get her masters out of his grimy slimy hands or get him booted from the label completely. The ball is in Taylor’s court and I hope she or Tree hears about this and acts accordingly. This is where Taylor can fulfill the values she claimed to have in Miss Americana. This is where she can own up to this whole shitshow and move forward, I know she’s 100% capable and I know she’s aware of the power of her words. The Speak Now era has to go beyond music…<3

[jewishbarbies]

vanity fair just put out a piece on how swifts racked up over 3k in fines for just letting garbage pile up outside her house in new york and can I just say for a private jet climate criminal its not surprising she leaves her piles of wine bottles and cigarette buts on the street for other people to clean up, a very "well it's their job" move from her even though it's her responsibility as the homeowner to keep it clean. also very funny seeing some swifties having mini meltdowns over the likelihood of her being a smoker since a sanitation worker told reporters there's routinely cigarette cartons in the piles

literally how is this woman a christian? like. leaving trash in front of your house and refusing to take care of it, flying your fucking jet to go get an ice a coffee, making people pay thousands of dollars to see your show and it sucks, dating a man who’s every ism/phobia under the sun and then your excuse is “it was just for fun”. what the actual fuck. it wouldn’t surprise me if the cigarettes were matty’s but it also wouldn’t surprise me if they were actually taylor’s and that’s why her voice is declining or something.

[secretly-of-course]

What situation would make Gus or Matt proudly say 'That's my husband!'

“Proudly”? 🤨 Not sure if that’s really in character for them lol

With that said though, I think there would be lots of reasons for Matty to brag “That’s my husband!” Gus is literally the coolest guy on the planet and you better believe Mattholomule is gonna be bragging about how he pulled that. I would give examples but all I can think of is this art by assigned-k9.

Gus I could imagine him saying it when Mattholomule is being…himself. He’s the president of the Boiling Isles but Gus catches him eating out of the garbage. He still tries to convince Gus that egg was a genuine human skull. He’ll make fun of Steve’s name t-shirts but he won’t fall asleep unless he’s wearing the “Matty” one he made for him. They’ve been married for years but he still does that sparkly hair flip to impress Gus. And he’s just a total loser. That makes Gus sigh (dreamily or exasperated? You decide) and say “That’s my husband!”

[mag200]

mag200 / 719474435009200128? source=share

what did matty specifically say about ice spice and whats in the people article?😬

matty healy went on the adam friedland show in february, i havent listened to it myself bc im not sitting through an hour or however long it is of racist misogynist garbage, but matty and the host of the show were going back and forth telling jokes making fun of ice spice, including calling her an "inuit spice girl", a "chubby chinese lady", making bad impersonations of her accent and mocking AAPI accents in general, and matty also joked about how he slid into ice spice's dms. [there are many many sources of this but here's one]

this is not by any means the only controversial shit matty healy has said but more just one thing in a long long line. he is also known for making nazi salutes on stage, calling all muslim people ISIS on twitter, openly sharing that he enjoys the brutally racist porn site "ghetto gaggers", and general misogyny, including mocking taylor swift's mother. he continually claims this is all a "bit" and that he's "actually progressive" and that the people who don't get it are just stupid.

all of this is easy to confirm online as there are many articles circulating at the moment if you look him up.

this is the people article that i mentioned in a previous post and you can read it in full if you're interested but this is the part that's definitely standing out to me the most:

Despite receiving backlash over past comments Healy has made, Swift was not swayed by the controversy, the insider says.

"He likes to provoke a response out of people. She's a grown woman more than capable of forming her own opinions about people," the insider adds. "No one forces her into anything, especially not these days. She's on top of the world."

completely tone-deaf & wild of her to choose to double down on this and defend him even after their breakup. after she has spent the better part of two decades cultivating a relationship with her fans to make us feel like she cares about us - this is a massive fuck you to her fans and in particular those who are jewish, muslim, and/or people of color.

[an-ivy-covered-summer]

i have no doubt that someone else has probably worded this better, but i think that the perfection of but daddy i love him lies in how it doesn’t really matter who the subject of the song is.

bc there’s the fact that no matter if she’s dating a garbage can or saint, certain circles within the fandom will always think they know better and be quick to run around screaming their think pieces on why taylor shouldn’t be dating that man bc he’s not good enough for her.

bc sure, matty is godawful, but i haven’t forgotten how a good amount of y’all in here were pearl-clutching about freaking travis kelce bc he was nothing more than a dumb jock with no brain or depth bc athletes are all stupid and shallow, only to now be all heart-eyes and gushing about how cute he is and what a gentleman and oh my my my!

and that’s literally what the song is about!!!!! the stupidity of thinking you have any agency over the decisions someone you don’t know should make bc you think you know better. and you don’t!!!!!

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

i’m responding to this message and sharing via screenshot because if i reply regularly, i won’t be able to block this dump heap’s IP address from successfully sending me asks. buckle up! what they said is in response to this:

if you think you’re going to step into my ask box on some “emvan just had a toxic relationship, evan was not a victim” bullshit in the form of a novel-length message, your IP address will be blocked and it’ll be the last one from you i see. don’t worry, i know how to type, too. you absolutely will not have a platform to victim blame and try and give credibility to a false narrative that pulls harmful allegations out of thin air. that is irresponsible and offensive on many levels. no one with a functioning brain inside their skull takes your garbage opinion seriously or wants to be nauseated by the stench of your disgusting (lack of) morals on this blog. but allow me to take you to task below.

1. evan’s girlfriends are not “always” portrayed as as the bad guy. you do not hear people speaking negatively about alexia, alexandria or haley except for the group of people who are jealous and will hate any woman their fav is dating. which is a different conversation and quite frankly should not even be entertained.

2. we are not just hearing one side of the story. if there are 100 negative stories, anecdotes, rumors, blind items AND emma was arrested for DV, it’s not that there is only one side of the story being portrayed - she is simply the only one raising hell and being an abusive monster to evan and everyone else in her vicinity. you are a sick and disturbed individual to try and flip the script and use ACTING roles to try and bolster your slanderous allegations. why don’t you just say you don’t believe men can be victims of domestic abuse and keep it moving, you demon?

3. what about halsey? she is known to be a tumultuous person with her own mental health struggles. she does not have a good track record of her own like you are seemingly insinuating. and i kindly request that you educate yourself before you speak, or minimally, before you peak your painted clown face into my ask box and exhaust me with your pathetic drivel. evan never liked, retweeted or condoned anything racist. that accidental retweet included. halsey is a troubled and bitter woman who was in love with evan before she ever met him, and was butthurt she was merely a rebound for him and they were not on the same page.

4. no, halsey would not “know him best” and her liking that tweet means jack. if she had her way i’m sure she’d have like 3 kids with evan by now and wouldn’t be liking tweets. she doesn’t actually care, she also loves fucking matty healy lmao as i already said she was butthurt. shocking and groundbreaking: an angry ex likes a defamatory tweet about said ex.

5. frances absolutely didn’t deserve a hate blog, much less the multiple different blogs some losers ran on this app.. but people believing she was using him for clout and money have legitimate reason to argue this because she has professed to being a sugar baby, and intentionally cultivated an unlikeable and problematic online persona. people just took the bait.

and finally.. i’d love for you to name the “problematic behaviors” you take issue with and cite a source other than the voices in your head or wattpad fan fictions you’ve read…. but not here because you’re blocked and you can go to hell ❤️ you may not be an asslicker, but you are a bad person for victim-blaming someone who experienced domestic violence at the hands of someone you’re doing gymnastics to defend. congratulations! now go back to twitter.

[the1975attheirverybest]

wait what the fuck is this.

who posts someone's birthday announcement on their story just to make fun of it??? What is happening this is like. appalling how are people genuinely behaving like this publicly.

It's never deep enough to call someone narcissistic for celebrating their birthday on their friends blog?? It's tumblr dot com how can someone be that pressed about a BIRTHDAY

have i missed some sort of context or is this just plain audacity and rudeness. christ.

There is no context. This motherfucker thinks he knows me, knows @x-a-black-winged-dove-x and knows the first thing about Matty and is mad that I think genocide is bad. He has NO IDEA what’s between me and my friend. He has no clue what I have been through and what she has done for me. And why I might possibly want her to have a nice birthday. Not surprised though because clout chasers like him don’t understand the concept of friendship and is only in it for the likes and comments. Fuckin piece of garbage. What a brainless fuck. He’ll see. I’m about to wipe the floor with him.

[the-jellicle-duelist]

youtube cooking channels Who Suck and you Should Not Trust with your Precious Ingredients

- joshua weissman

- adam ragusea

- binging with babish

- pro home cooks

- vito iacopelli

-  america’s test kitchen

- bon appetit

- epicurious

- pasta grammar

- nick digiovanni

- sip and feast

- ethan chlebowski

- anyone who was on food network at any time

cooking youtubers who you can watch only after you know how to spot a bad cooking guy actor in the space because these people while good at some things also will put garbage into your brain if you let them:

- brian lagerstrom

- j. kenji lopez alt

- claire saffitz

- matty matheson

the only good cooking channels:

- chinese cooking demystified

- made with lau

- food wishes

- videos where lucas sin shows up because he’s just a guy

bonus youtube channels about cocktails:

- how to drink

- anders erickson

- cocktail time with kevin kos