#me knowing she masturbated to matty is enough

[evermoredeluxe]

not me getting matty edits to TTPD on tiktok… babes she hates him 💀

[solarsturniolo]

𝖂𝖊’𝖗𝖊 𝕵𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝕱𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖘 // 𝕸.𝕾. // 𝔗𝔴𝔬

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: Matt is so 'sweet best friend that secretly jerks off to your pictures' coded (idea credit to @heartstreet )

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: SMUT!!! / masturbation / voyeurism / post nut clarity / self-deprecation / intentional lowercase

𝔇𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: these stories are fictional :)

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 3030

It slowly became a habit. It started small, one time a day if even that. But what started as a habit grew into an addiction. Every little thing set him off, and the only thing to satisfy the desire in him was her. He needed her in ways that he couldn’t even describe. He hungered for her. 

It began with pictures, just her regular little posts on Instagram and Snapchat that had no hidden undertone to them, but every single one would have Matt beating his dick until his arm was sore. She had Pavloved him. The second he got the notification that his best friend posted, his cock stiffened and his ears got red and hot just thinking about what could be waiting for him. It didn’t matter where he was or what he was doing, he’d drop everything, all of his attention would be on her in an instant. Today was no different; he had already beat off three times in the few hours he had been awake.

As the day moved forward, and he found the inner strength to keep his dick in his pants, Matt remembered telling her that he’d look for the charger she had left when she stayed over a few nights ago. He spent a solid hour that afternoon searching the house up and down for her phone charger; his room, the living room, the kitchen, Nick’s room, hell, he even checked Chris’s room (despite Chris’s many protests followed by a shoe being launched at Matt’s shin), though he still came up empty handed. 

Matt went back to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He took a seat in his desk chair, rolling himself close enough to his desk to click his monitor on, grabbing the controller that had been set aside on his desk to charge. He turned his gaming console on, the sound of it whirring to life filling the silence in the room. He reached into his pocket, taking his phone out to send her a quick text.

‘i may have lost it’

‘your mind?’

‘no’

‘your keys?’

‘no’

‘OMG’

‘?’

‘YOUR V CARD?????’

‘WHAT NO’

‘omg matty who is she 🤭🤭🤭🤭’

‘I DID NOT’

‘then i fear i do not know what you could be talking about, for i am not a mind reader’

‘your weird’

‘you’re*’

‘i actually hate you.’

‘stfu you love me. now what are u talking abt’

‘you’re charger’

‘your*’

‘you know what 😀’

‘LMAOOOO don’t blow a fuse, it’s a $10 charger i’ll just get another one. thank u for letting me know tho’

‘ofc’

He stared at the screen, his heart beating faster when he saw the read receipt pop up under his message. He waited, taking his bottom lip between his teeth as she began to type. A smile tugged at his lips as the typing message bubble disappeared, waiting for the message to pop up on his screen.

A minute passed. Then two. Still nothing. Matt’s smile faltered a little.

‘?’

‘oh shit i didn’t know you were still here’

‘what we’re you typing?’

‘were*’

‘😀 nevermind i don’t care’

‘noooo matty come back 😂’

‘i’ll get it right one day’

‘i have full faith in you, matthew. until then, im gonna be up your ass about it’

‘so…?’

‘so what?’

‘what were you typing?’

Matt could hardly sit still. His leg bounced anxiously, he bit his nails impatiently. She had been typing for a while, was it something bad? Shit, have i fucked up recently and just didn’t notice?

‘nothing 😇’

‘you’re a dirty liar’

‘😜’

‘cmon, i’m youre best friend tell meeeee’

‘your*’

‘GET A NEW BEST FRIEND’

‘okay okay i’m done 😂 you’re so easy to tease’

‘Ayo 🤨’

‘not like that 🙄

‘well, you probably are pretty easy to tease like that too”

Matt choked on his own saliva. Did I read that right? He read it again, the blood rushing from his cheeks to his cock. His brain short circuited. Any possible responses that he could’ve came up with dissolved into nothingness. He spent two minutes trying to type a witty comeback or some sort of smooth flirtatious reply, but when push came to shove, all he could build the courage to send was-

‘what?’

She started typing, and as the speech bubble floated in the corner of his screen, Matt palmed at the bulge in his sweats. His mind raced with thoughts, all wondering what she could have possibly been thinking about. Fuck, does she think about doing things with me? Does she want to tease me? How would she even-

The speech bubble disappeared. Matt slipped his hand under the waistband of his sweatpants and his boxers, taking his hard cock in his fist. He stroked his shaft slowly, his eyes fluttering shut while he pursed his lips to hold back a moan. He waited for her response to pop up. One minute…then two…then five. He furrowed his eyebrows, his strokes slowly coming to a stop as he eyed their text messages. Why isn’t she responding? Did I make her uncomfortable? Is she weirded out?

His heart nearly dropped out of his ass when the facetime notification illuminated his screen. Without thinking to take his hand out of his pants, Matt quickly answered the call.

It took a moment for the call to connect, but when it finally did, Matt felt almost frozen in place. His heart skipped a beat, his face grew flushed with a warm rosy heat. She smiled at him and his breath caught in his throat.

“Hey!”

Matt smiled. “Hey, what’s up.”

“What, I can’t call my best friend out of the blue just to hang out?” She laughed softly. “What are you up to?” She asked.

“Just, yknow…” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders a bit. “Was playing fortnite for a bit-“

She tilted her head to the side a little, furrowing her eyebrows. “I didn’t see you online. I would’ve joined you if I knew,” she grinned. “Can’t believe you played without me,” she playfully rolled her eyes.

Matt swallowed. Her eyes looked so pretty rolled back into her head like that, I could watch her do that for hours. Matt slowly stroked his cock, pursing his lips tightly to keep himself quiet. ‘Can’t believe you played without me’ replayed in his head like a broken record. His mind wandered off, thinking about the beautiful girl on his screen sitting on his bed. Her clothes discarded onto the floor mindlessly, seated on his bare thighs. Matt bit the inside of his cheek, pre-cum drooling from the tip of his cock as he imagined her pretty manicured fingers circling her clit, her eyes hooded and full of lust as lewd sounds spilled from her parted lips. His dick ached at the thought of her running her fingers through her wet folds, playing with herself in front of him, on full display just for him. ‘Can’t believe you played without me,’ her voice repeated in his head again, his mouth going dry as he thought of her looking at him with a pout while saying this, her pretty doe eyes staring at him with nothing but desire hidden behind their gaze.

He kept his strokes slow and controlled. This is so fucking wrong, he thought. If she knew…he couldn’t even think of the possibilities. She’d be disgusted, she’d be so upset. Matt would never be able to show his face in a public setting again.

“How was your day?” Matt asked in a soft voice, afraid that if he spoke any louder, his own voice would betray him. He watched as the smile on her face grew and he felt his heart twinge. This is so wrong. What the fuck is wrong with me.

“Aww Matty, you do care!” She teased. Matt let out a breathy chuckle, hoping she couldn’t hear the rasp in his voice. She began to list off the many side quests she endured on her day off from work, and Matt listened to every single thing she had to say. His eyes focused on her lips as she spoke to him. Her lips are so pretty. Fuck, I wanna kiss her so bad. I wanna feel her lips on mine. She’d look so fucking pretty with my dick in her mouth. I wonder how much she’d be able to take. Would I have to fuck her throat to make it all fit? Would she drool on my cock while I fuck her pretty mouth?

“Matt?”

He tugged at his cock, letting out a soft exhale when he heard her voice. Please say my name again. Say my name again. It sounds so pretty coming from you, I’ve never liked my name more than when it’s being said by you. His mind wandered off once more. What positions does she like? Would she prefer missionary? She’d look so pretty under me while I fuck her, her tits would bounce so nicely with every thrust I make. Or would she want something more intense? Would she want me to take her from behind? Would she want to be in charge? What turns her on? Does she wear lingerie?

“Matt…?”

Matt grunted softly under his breath, the speed of his strokes increasing just barely enough to tell. He focused his attention back on the call. “H-Huh?”

“I asked what you did today,” she repeated. “Did you have a good day?”

It took a moment for her words to register in his brain, his mind foggy with lust and desire, his cock dripping with arousal. He gave his shaft a gentle squeeze, a low growl forming at the back of his throat. “It’s much better now,” he admitted, earning a giggle from her in return. He smiled. He loved being able to make her laugh. It was something that most people couldn’t do, but Matt did it so effortlessly. He took pride in it; even his brothers couldn’t make her laugh nearly as easily as Matt could. “Didn’t do much, just-“ he stopped, trying to think of something to say other than ‘i sat around beating off to your pictures all day’. He cleared his throat, a moan threatening to escape as the warmth in the pit of his tummy grew. “Just stayed in bed all day.”

She rolled her eyes again, and Matt felt his balls grow heavy with arousal, his thumb rubbing at his tip with each slow stroke he made. Matt’s lips parted; he wanted to moan so bad. He wanted her to see what she does to him. He wanted her to know just how badly he wanted her. His eyes became glossy as he lost himself in a daze, staring at her through the screen.

“Are you okay? You’re acting weird.”

Matt nodded, still not taking his hand out of his pants. This is so fucking wrong. Why am I doing this? I’m risking our entire friendship. “Hey, I uh- I gotta go,” Matt stated abruptly. He didn’t want to go. He never wanted to go a minute without her, but if he didn’t leave the call soon, he’d end up in a world of trouble for sure.

“Oh…okay, well call me ba-“

Click.

Matt dropped his phone down onto his desk and leaned back in his desk chair, his shaggy hair falling in front of his eyes, strands of his hair sticking to his forehead as a thin layer of sweat began to form at his brow. He pushed his sweats and boxers down just enough to free his cock, a moan escaping him. He tugged the bottom of his sweatshirt and t-shirt up so as to not ruin it, a ritual that had become engraved into his brain from the regular reoccurrence of it. He grunted softly, tugging at his shaft desperately, his eyes screwing shut.

I need her. I need to have her, all of her. I need to feel her and taste her. I want to be between her legs, I want to taste how sweet she is, I want to watch her fall apart from just my tongue. I want to feel her squirm and run her fingers through my hair. I want to hear her whine and beg for more. Matt fisted at his cock, his strokes much faster than before. His breathing was uneven and heavy, almost panting like an animal. He needed her, he hungered for her, he craved her. Something about it was so primal. Every time he saw her or heard her, he had a full body reaction, one that he couldn’t control even if he wanted to.

Although, he really didn’t want to.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. As if on cue, his phone vibrated on his desk. His eyes fluttered open, a lustful dazed look glazing over his irises. He picked up his phone, a notification from snapchat flashing on his screen. Never ceasing his strokes, Matt opened the app and clicked on the new snap from her. His jaw went slack, pumping his cock in his fist even faster than before. He stared at her photo for much longer than he should have, but how could he not? She had her head tilted a bit, a confused look on her face with the words ‘not even a goodbye? so mean, matty’ printed across the photo.

“Fuck me,” he whimpered. She looks so cute when she’s confused. Fuck, the things I would do to paint her face with my cum while she looks at me like that…I’d probably get put on the FBI watchlist. He knew he needed to reply back soon, not wanting her to assume he was ignoring her. He just couldn’t bring himself to tap out of the photo. His cock ached, the desire building up inside of him. “Fuck, p-please,” he breathed out. Matt threw his head back, his strokes getting impossibly faster with each passing moment. Pre-cum oozed from his tip, his fist slick with his arousal.

Another snapchat notification from her came through and Matt inhaled sharply, tapping out of the photo and clicking on the new one. Matt choked out a whine, the muscles in his bicep tightening as he began to reach his high. “Fuck-“ he grunted. His breath caught in his throat as his mind went blank, pleasure coursing through his veins. It was like a drug to him. He couldn’t get enough of the feeling; It didn’t take long for him to get addicted to it, and soon enough once a day turned into twice a day, which turned into three times a day, which turned into too many fucking times to count.

He groaned, a string of vowels passing his lips, his jaw hanging low as he watched his cum spurt from his tip. He breathed in short heavy pants, slowing his strokes to ride out his orgasm. Five ribbons of white hot cum painted his lower stomach. His dick throbbed from the intensity of his orgasm and his body shivered as he slowly came down from his high.

It took a handful of minutes for Matt to realign his senses. His chest rose and fell with even breaths, his dick rested in the puddle of cum on his abdomen. He looked at his hand, his mess coating his fingers and his palm. I wonder if she’d lick my hand clean. Would she suck on my fingers? Would she look up at me with her infamous puppy dog eyes while she does it?

His eyes darted back to his phone, his heart racing as he quickly remembered that he still hadn’t replied to her. He groaned softly upon seeing her pretty face on his screen, her previous snap still on full display for him. He took another moment to admire her before tapping out of the photo. Matt quickly fixed his hair with his clean hand, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his forearm. He picked his phone back up and quickly snapped a photo of himself. He typed a response before sending it to her.

'Relax I'm here.'

'You costed me my battle royale.'

Matt waited for a response, not caring about the mess that still hadn’t been attended to. The nerves in his brain lit up like a Christmas tree as she opened his snap, the endorphins filling him with dopamine as she sent back another photo. He was quick to open it, not caring if she caught on to his eagerness.

'lol you're stupid. call me back when you're done :)'

He tucked his cock back into his boxers, pulling them back up along with his sweats. He stood up, holding the bottom seam of his shirt up, quickly making his way to the bathroom to clean himself up. He peeked out into the hallway, making sure Nick and Chris weren’t anywhere near before slipping into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Matt cringed at the sticky feeling on his hand, quickly turning on the faucet at the sink, running his hand under the water to rinse most of his mess down the drain. He dried his hand, then grabbed a handful of tissues, cleaning up the rest of his cum before discarding the used tissues into the waste bin. He let his shirt fall down to cover his torso, his eyes landing on his reflection in the mirror. His gaze darted away, disgusted with what he saw.

You’re a terrible friend. If she ever found out, you’d be lucky to not have a restraining order against you. What the fuck is wrong with you. How can you even call yourself her best friend. You don’t deserve her.

He left the bathroom in a hurry, slipping back into his room, gently kicking the door shut behind him. He sat back down at his desk, picking up his phone once again.

Without a second thought, he opened his facetime app, clicking on her contact. The phone only rang twice before she answered, her pretty face illuminating the screen after the call connected. Matt offered her a warm smile, propping his phone up on his desk. “Sorry I hung up on you before,” he mumbled softly, scratching the back of his neck as his gaze landed on her. He picked his headset up off of his desk, holding it for her to see. “Wanna run duos with me?”

𝔄𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯'𝔰 𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢: omg guys, what do we think is gonna happen?

𝔗𝔞𝔤𝔰:

[lottiecrabie]

don’t fuck the line cooks. part two – matty healy

ever since that night in the walk-in, you can only think about the next time. hopefully if you push and prod him enough, you’ll get your way…

warnings: 18+, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, masturbation, public sex, drug use, sex under the influence, degradation, choking, overstimulation, dom/sub dynamics, authority kink, problematic age gap problematic age gaping, sleazy man is even sleazier in this somehow

part two of two

18,294 words

You lick the salt off the back of your hand, shooting the cheap tequila, immediately wincing from the taste and worsening it with a bite of tart lime. You shake your head, hoping to flick acid off your tongue. 

“God,” you say for good measure. “I can’t seem to get used to this.”

Beside you, Veronica laughs, eating the lime off the rind. She gives you a green smile, features uncrinkled. She is used to this. “It’ll come with age.” 

You roll your eyes. “You’re only four years older than me.”

“Yeah, but you were severely stunted for the twenty-one first years of your life, so the difference is staggering.” 

“Ar-ar. You’re hilarious.” 

“I know.” She flicks the lime rind on the counter, a disheveled green skin rid of meat. She licks the leftover salt off her lips— with some of her bright red lipstick, too. She grabs your wrist next, shimmying her shoulders as she reels you from the bar. “C’mon. Let’s dance.” 

“My feet hurt,” you pout in mock-protest, but your limbs are loose from the booze and you’re easily whisked away to the dancefloor. 

The Darling is the nearest bar from the restaurant with the cheapest alcohol. It’s a dirty thing, drenched in obscurity and the occasional neon sign, smelling like sweat and cigarettes, and sticky to walk on. It plays the same songs over and over again— every night for the past decade, the same playlist booms from the speakers. You know the tunes by heart now, screaming the lyrics without a single title coming to mind. 

The Darling is where everyone crashes after shift drinks, itching for a bigger buzz and a dance. Your coworkers crowd the place, talking to the bartenders like old friends, familiarly finding the labyrinthine way to the toilets. (Find the bar, take a turn to your right, follow a dark corridor, beside the kitchen to the left.)

You’re sore and tired from a double, a neck vein nearly popped when a customer dared ask for—no, insist on a steak half rare-half medium on each side uncut. Dread filled you when you approached the kitchen, putting on a dazzling smile to transmit the ridiculous request. Sighs, and swears, and that shake of head that makes his curls bounce filled the room as he got to work, frustrated and pissed, but obedient still. 

Him. You spin on your feet, finding Matty still at the bar, sipping on a dark drink with George. You smile, eyes twinkling, detaching yourself from your friend as you sway towards him. You practically fall on his side— his hand catches you at your waist, near your hip, decidedly inappropriate, but instinctive. 

“Hullo,” you say in a poor imitation of their accents. George snorts. “Watcha drinking?” You ask Matty, scrunching your nose. 

He arches an eyebrow, sliding the glass towards you. “Have a taste.” You grab it without hesitating, knocking a mouthful and immediately regretting it. You cough, shaking your head. That’s straight liquor. Matty laughs, soothingly rubbing a hand on your back. “You okay?” 

“What is wrong with you?”

“Aw, princess,” he coos, taking a sip of his whiskey and not even twitching as the bitter taste washes his mouth. “You’ll like it when you’re older.” 

Again, you roll your eyes. Taking an easy dig at your age when he’s been between your thighs some nothing-days ago is hypocritical. The retort burns your tongue, but you bite it back for present company. Matty looks at you a little gleefully, like he knows, like it amuses him. 

You turn to George with a smile. “What about you? Are you drinking something sane?” 

He snorts. “Just a rum and coke, sweets. I’m afraid it’s not very special.” 

You reach for his drink anyway and he offers it gladly, metal rings around the cool glass. You tip it, smiling at the sweetness, licking it off your lips. “George, you have much better taste.” 

“Hey!”

“I know.”

“Order me a drink, will you?” You say, fluttering your eyelashes at him. As though you would even need the extra persuasion; he’s already shouting a drink at a bartender, putting it on Matty’s tab with a point of a thumb. 

Matty rolls his eyes beside you, his fingers digging into your waist in warning. Something low simmers between your legs. You smirk to yourself. You like the feel of that. 

“There you go,” George says, passing you the orange drink that’s been slapped on the counter. “A sweet drink for a sweet girl.” 

You smile gratefully at him, tasting it. It’s fruity and light; your lips stretch up. “Thanks, George.” 

“‘Course.” 

Ross crashes in your group, swinging an arm over George’s shoulder, clearly smashed. “Mate, they fixed the PacMan machine.” 

“No way. Is my score still on it?”

“DICKH3AD bright and red!” With a laugh, the two of them whisk away to the arcade game, off somewhere to the left, tucked between two tables. 

You’re alone with Matty now. A thrill resonates within you— it’s silly. It’s not like he’s gonna bend you over this bar and take you right this moment, in front of anyone. It’s not like he’s done anything of the sort since the walk-in fridge. Still, you spin to face him, arching an eyebrow, practically inviting him to. 

He sees the meaning tacked onto your eyelashes, clear as day, yet he does nothing but grin to himself, taking a sip of his awful whiskey on rocks. 

You huff, opting for another strategy. “Are you upset I asked George to order me a drink?” You try instead, hoping to prod and poke until he snaps again— finally. 

Matty smirks. “I’d have picked something lighter. Little girl like you can’t handle her liquor yet.” He pouts, “She’s just started drinking.” Your fingers grip around the glass, something hot and shameful dripping inside of you. 

“Why? Have plans for me I can’t be drunk for?” 

Matty leans back on his stool, properly looking at you. His gaze licks up your naked legs, your short skirt, your white top. Your heart beats twice as fast. Subconsciously, you straighten, needing to be taller, older, more mature. To satisfy, to excel. 

“If I said yes, would you not drink it?” His eyes flick to the orange glass between your clenched hands. It’s barely sipped, condensation running on your fingers. He meets your gaze next. There’s a game of chess, and you can’t seem to figure out what he wants. How to win. 

You want to win. You need to win. You feel it throbbing between your legs, that desperate urge. 

You drop the glass on the counter. It clinks on the wood, then settles, pretty and discarded. His turn. 

Matty smiles, satisfied. He stands from his stool, and a surge of excitement shoots up your spine. You don’t need the alcohol when you have him anyway.

Matty leans in, then pats your shoulder. “The boys are waiting for me.” He sidesteps you, then gets lost into the crowd. You watch him go, mouth parted in offense and disbelief. 

What a fucking dickhead. You make a low noise of annoyance, taking your glass and slurping half of it down in rebellion. You march to one of the empty booths, rage twisting your guts. 

You just want him to fuck you. It’s been five days. What is he waiting for? 

You slide into the sticky bench, ruminating in your anger as you chew on the plastic blue straw of your cocktail. 

“Hey,” Landon, a server, nods at you as he pulls into the opposite side of the booth. You nod back. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I’m growing tired of The Darling’s playlist.” 

“Take two shots. It’ll be back.” 

“Sage advice.” He tips his chin towards your drink. “Are you taking revenge for turtles or has this straw personally wronged you?”

You sigh, letting go of the plastic, pushing the glass away from you. “It’s killed my family. Arson, you see? It was brutal.” 

“I would offer my condolences, but that would mean my boss is dead, and I’m not the biggest fan of his. Would a muted hooray be acceptable?” 

You huff, smirking at him. “Bold of you to tell the boss’ daughter.” 

“Well, I’m quite drunk.” 

You smile. “I’ll cheer to that.” You knock your empty glass to his beer mug. 

Landon gasps. “In the eyes,” he chastises. “Or it’s seven years of bad sex.” You laugh, opening your eyes comically wide to cheer him next. You’ve just broken the curse. You’re not about to be pulled back into mediocre hookups now. “Better,” he nods, finally taking a sip of his beer.

You haven’t talked to Landon much before, nothing other than pleasantries and the quick quips exchanged between two tables. You quickly find that he’s funny, pulling snorting laughs out of your tipsy mouth as he recounts some of his worst customer stories like grand, epic tales. He offers sips of his beer graciously, then buys you your own when the supply is diminishing. You don’t even like beer, but you accept the gift nonetheless, letting the awful taste fizz in your mouth and slacken your head. 

A hand over your mouth, you half-hide your laugh as it bursts out of you. “I can’t believe you would say that!” 

“And I got fired for it,” Landon argues, screaming a defense. 

“Well, obviously—”

“What’s the funny story?” Both of you jump in surprise at the intruder. Turning towards the voice, you find Matty sliding in the booth next to you. 

Already, he takes his place like he owns it, spreading through the leather seats. His legs part comfortably, his thigh sticks to yours, his arm hangs over the back of the booth, tickling your nape. He wraps a hand around your beer, pulling it towards him, taking a sip shamelessly. He sits like he owns you. 

You roll your eyes, taking back your mug, though you hold it between your hands and don’t drink it. Silence reigns around the table. Neither you or Landon feel particularly inclined to talk. 

“C’mon,” Matty pokes, looking back and forth between the two of you. “I want to know the funny story.” 

“It’s just about this customer at my old job who was an asshole,” Landon laughs easily to his credit. “Bet you heard a thousand like it before.” 

“Yeah,” Matty nods, “I bet I did.” There’s something dark in his eyes, in the intensity of his gaze on Landon, like there is some hidden insult he’s supposed to catch. 

Matty’s eyes fall on you next, flicking to the beer and then back to your daggering glare, cocking his head condescendingly. “I didn’t know you liked beer.” He says it like some genuine question, but you know he knows the answer. 

“It’s okay,” you say tightly. 

“Mmh, yeah,” Matty smirks. “I’m sure Landon could give you a lot of okay things.” Your smile crisps on your face. The fucking asshole. 

“Landon,” you practically shout, turning towards him in a desperate attempt to ignore Matty. “I heard you were applying for the position of lead server?” 

Matty snorts. “Did your daddy tell you that?” 

You grit your teeth, “As a matter of fact, yes.” You smile at Landon. “He wanted my opinion. I’ll tell him I think you’d be great.” 

“Thanks,” he smiles at you genuinely. “I promise I won’t call anyone a raging hormonal grade A wanker.” 

You laugh. “Oh, please do if I ever need it.” You shake your head, twisting the beer in your hands, but still avoiding the aftertaste that would linger in your mouth. “Yesterday, I had a woman who—”

Matty’s hand rests on your naked thigh, cold from the glass and a smoke outside, rough in sinfully familiar ways, spreading over your leg like this, too, he owns. You stifle a gasp. The words die in your mouth. 

“Who what?” Matty encourages you, frowning at you like he’s not perfectly aware of what he’s doing under the table. 

As though he’s trying to entirely rob the words out of your mouth, he trails his fingertips up and down your thigh, raising goosebumps on the skin. You throw him a glance with some furious demand to quit it, but there’s a deeper need for him to do just the opposite. 

You rake your throat, flipping back to Landon. “She came in already pissed and prissy, telling me she’s never gotten a good experience here. Why she bothers to come back is completely beyond me. I mean, you would think she would give up then, because—”

Matty’s hand dips to your inner thighs and your lips hang open, mind shortcircuiting. Without even thinking, you spread them for him, giving him further space. He smirks at that, at the resounding blush on your cheeks as you realize what you’ve done. 

He presses into the meat of your leg, one finger at a time, so you’re so aware of him you might get dizzy. His pinky slips under the hem of your skirt, inching close to inappropriate. 

“Um, anyway,” you laugh awkwardly, desperate to get through this story. Your face heats up, the knowledge of Matty’s teasing under the table — in front of Landon — burning at your mind. Matty chuckles beside you. You rake your throat. “I try to do my best, you know— smile so fucking wide I could rip my cheeks— but she’s just asking me stupid question after stupid question like this is an interrogatory or something.”

Your eyes flicker between Landon and Matty, moving from amused eyes to a condescending nod, urging you on as a warm hand slips further and further up your thigh. Pleasure wakes up in your belly— just a little, just the idea of what it could be. God, you need him, and the worst is that he knows, staring at you so fucking cocky and proud. 

You stutter, “And— And she speaks to me like I’m the dumb one in this interaction! I mean, she’s asking me the size of our salad leaves because if they’re too big then I’ll have to cut them and yet—”

Matty’s finger meets the apex of your thighs. You jump, hips rolling into his hand, hand flying to your mouth to cover a moan you just barely avoid letting out. You need this story over. 

Matty seems to predict your plan to wrap it up, wasting no time to linger and tease and brush, instead rubbing his fingers up and down, pressing into your soaked underwear. You clamp around his hand, biting your lip. 

“So she pulled me every which way during my whole shift and—” He finds your clit easily, pressing on it through the cloth, making lazy circles that have your legs shaking under the table nonetheless. Pleasure rushes up them, burning with memory and apprehension. 

Your voice trembles as you continue, “—and I had to scream in the fridge so I wouldn’t lunge at her from the table—” You make the mistake of looking Matty’s way and he grins at you knowingly, the crow’s feet by his eyes denting as he licks mischief off his lips. His fingers push your underwear aside. 

You grip his wrist under the table, but he gathers a pool of your arousal still, as though to point out how much this little game is actually affecting you, no matter your useless protests. Your breath hitches. He pinches your bud meanly. Your head spins and spins deliriously. 

You focus on Landon, rushing out. “And then she tipped me 2%.” You grin at him cartoonishly big and fake, practically screaming, “Your turn!” 

“I think I remember that,” Matty cuts in before Landon can say anything. He teases your entrance and a jolt of ecstasy zaps through you. He smirks, “You screaming in the walk-in.” You glare at him, remembering being so wet and tired in the fridge you thought you might liquify and melt on the floor, holding onto his back for dear life as he thrusted inside of you, over and over, finding that perfect spot that had you screaming. 

You’re red and hot and fuck it. You stand up, his hand falling out of your skirt. “Actually, I need a smoke.”

Matty stands up beside you. “I have a pack.” You’re off before Landon can add anything, lost to the swallowing crowd of drunk service workers. 

You make a beeline for the bar. Matty catches up to you easily, knocking against your side, clearly so fucking pleased with himself. If you weren’t so turned on you think you could actually catch fire, you might tell him to fuck off. 

You turn to the right into a dark corridor. “He wasn’t flirting with me,” you say through gritted teeth because you would like to at least establish that. 

Matty snorts. “Don’t be naive. He fucking wanted you.” 

“It’s not because I have a conversation with a guy that we’re automatically about to get it on.” 

He scoffs. “I know guys, and I know that guy would have gotten it on with you right there on the fucking table if you had asked.” You roll your eyes, which only seems to piss him off. “And what were you doing giggling at him?” 

“Am I not allowed to laugh?” 

“Landon isn’t that fucking funny. The guy barely has enough wit to sustain a conversation.” 

“You don’t even know him,” you protest with a disbelieved laugh. Kitchen. To the left. 

“I’ve worked with the bloke for three years. If he’s told a joke in that time, I’ve yet to be around to hear it.” 

You push the bathroom door, giving him a prissy look behind your shoulder. “Well, you’re missing out. Maybe you should talk to people other than waitresses half your age—” The bathroom door slams behind the both of you. Matty grabs both your cheeks and crashes his mouth against your lips. He shuts you up with a heated tongue and sure, callused fingers on your skin, and it works. 

You part your mouth instinctively, kissing him back with fervor and unbridled need. Adrenaline shoots up your spine, alongside childish glee, the thrilled knowledge that this is finally happening. The argument is a faraway concept you don’t care about. 

Your hands dig into his back, clutching on the flimsy material of his washed-out white shirt, wishing to rip it off of him. He groans into your mouth, tilting his head and kissing you harder. 

Matty pushes you against the door, fixing you in place with a hand on your hip and another palming roughly at your breast. You moan in his mouth, lick into his with devotion. Your fingers hide in the mess of his curls, tugging. Hoping it makes him a little crazy— the instinct to poke and prod and tug for something still boiling inside of you. 

And it works. His fingertips dig into your hip, pressing meanly into the bone, and he shivers. He kisses you with abandon, stealing each breath from your mouth until you’re drunk on the lack of oxygen and him. He tastes like whiskey and cigarettes, and you kiss and kiss and kiss until your mind swirls lazily in your skull. 

He bites your lip, tugging it and releasing it with a smirk. You whine, so fucking wet it drips down your thighs, titling your hips in hope of finding some friction. You tremble between his arms and you know, desperately, deliciously, annoyingly, that he has you right where he wants. 

“Please,” you whisper in the dark of the bathroom, already pleading your case like you know you’ll have to. Matty licks his lips, digging under the risen hem of your skirt. “Please, please, please, Matty,” you rush immediately again, rolling your hips against nothing. 

“What do you want?” 

“You.” You take his wrist, puppeteering his hand up and up until it finds the wet patch of your underwear. You bite your lip, a gasp seconds away from spilling. “Your fingers.”

“Mine, huh?” He says, and indulgently slips your underwear aside. This time, nothing stops the resulting breathy moan. “Those fingers?” He brushes up your entrance, finding your clit and rubbing gently at it. 

You roll your eyes, letting your last hand fall to his shoulder and clutching it for support. “Yes.” As though satisfied with your answer, he rewards you with speed, circling and swiping at you until your face breaks open with a silent moan. Pleasure blooms in your belly. Finally. Every aching muscle in you sings in unabashed thrill. “Fuck, Matty.” 

He dips into your neck, kissing and licking at the delicate curve, climbing up your jaw. He’s unrelenting between your thighs and you simply grip his wrist, letting yourself be washed with euphoria. Those calluses might kill you one day.

“You’re so fucking desperate for me,” he says, and though the words are harsh, the tone is reverent. He looks down at you, at your body bending and parting just for him, at your pleading stare, at your red, panting mouth. Devours the sight. “Got you so fucking ready just from touching you under the table. Did you like it, princess? Liked being bad? Liked getting fingered in front of your little buddy?” 

You nod furiously. Pleasure loosens your head enough to lose the inherent need to be a rule-abiding, prim, moral girl. Yes to taboo, yes to indency, yes to anything if it’s him. 

“Bet he’d be so upset if he saw you now. Should we go get him? Give him a show?” Faintly, you shake your head, embarrassment and ecstasy spinning your mind. You moan into his neck, desperate. Your hips grind against his hand for more. 

He presses into your clit, making your eyes roll with a gasp. “He’d love to see you like this. Fucked out when I’ve barely even touched you. Making the prettiest sounds ever. God, I could fucking hear them all day. All desperate and whiney, like you can’t get enough of me.” He rubs at you twice as fast just to hear you whimper, muffled by a bite of his shoulder. His name drowns in the fibers, shirt wet by a slack mouth. 

“I can’t,” you admit, shaking in his arms.  

“Fucked the old, dirty man at work and now you can’t fucking live without his cock, right? What would they all think if they saw you, cockdrunk and fucking begging for it?” 

“Yes! Just— Fuck, just do something, sir.” 

“So fucking wet for me,” he coos, all proud and pleased. You grin, letting go of his shoulder to press kisses up his neck. He shudders. “We should show them, right? At least let them hear it.” Two of his fingers dip to your entrance and enter, slowly, letting the pornographic, squelching sound resonate through the quiet room. “There you go.”  

You’re too blissed out to care how it sounds, too busy getting used to the delicious stretch of his digits to fully notice how each thrust makes sopping, wet noises. You shiver, gripping his shoulder, biting wherever you can get your teeth into. Matty groans in your ear and you grin, happy. 

“No one can fuck you like this,” Matty whispers, and indulgently speeds up his movement, curling into you as a reminder. 

Euphoria coils in your belly, familiarly burning and tightening the strings of your body. You shake your head. “No one,” you agree, religious. 

“No one can get you off.”

Again, you grip his shoulders, promising, “No one.” And it’s true. Even your own hand has been a poor replacement to the art he can draw on your skin, making your body sing like his favorite instrument. His thumb rolls at you in tandem, a fast, harsh tempo. “Fucking hell,” you cry and scrunch your face. 

He smirks, whispering, “No one can see you like this.”

“No one, Matty. Only you.”

Matty kisses your cheek, a serpent smile on his lips. He coos in the shell of your ear, “Then why were you flirting with him?” He doesn’t want you to mistake his sweet tone: he pulls out of you. 

Your eyes flash open, fear gripping your guts. Your cunt already misses him, throbbing around nothing. The taste of pleasure lingers on your teeth, just out of reach. 

“I wasn’t,” you try to plead, but Matty’s already stepping away from you. Your arms fall to your side. Matty nods, but it doesn’t reassure anything in you, now hyperaware of the dangerous gleam in his eyes. “I swear, Matty. I didn’t— He just made me laugh.” You shake your head, chuckling, “Who fucking cares about Landon Williams?” 

Your hand reaches out, grabbing his and drawing it back under your raised skirt. You brush it against your soaked underwear, biting your lip as it makes contact. You whisper, “He doesn’t do this to me.”

Matty is unimpressed. “Of fucking course not.” He bites, pulling away. You pout, displeased, too empty to think. He crosses his arms before you get any other ideas. “Did you finish that drink, princess?” Your cheeks heat up and you look down, caught. He snorts meanly. “Say it.” 

“Yes, but—” 

He cuts you off, furrowing his eyebrows in a comical pout, as though speaking to a little child. “Where did my good little girl go? So fucking eager to please. Brought up with manners and all, right?” 

He takes a step, tilting your chin up with a strong thumb. You part your lips, readied and offered, pleading. “You taste like beer,” he whispers, and then offers a solution: two wet fingers, just out of reach. The message clicks. You don’t hesitate.

You get on your tiptoes, sticking your neck out to catch the digits and suck them between your lips. You roll your tongue around them, moaning with a full mouth, letting the tangy taste of you linger. You release him with a pop, grinning up at him proudly.

You keep it wide open, waiting, and he smirks at you. Knowing exactly what you’re asking for, he bends and spits in your mouth. Sick pleasure fills your mind and you moan, swallowing it, barely catching your breath that he’s muttering, “You’re so fucking dirty,” and falling on your lips. 

You kiss him back eagerly, trying to keep up with his angry, furious pace. You’re wound up so tight you might burst from any touch: just a brush, just a flick, just a thrust and you’d be screaming his name, falling apart on his callused hand. 

“Matty,” you beg between two kisses. You throb around nothing. 

“Taste much better, sweetheart,” he breathes.

He presses a kiss on your lips, then pulls away from you again. You’re whining before he’s even had time to unwrap you from his arms, release your tits from his palms. You frown at him. You’ve done everything he asked. 

“Let this be a lesson, princess.”

“Are you fucking serious?” You cross your arms, fuming. He’s really gonna leave now? Matty seems a bit too happy at your reaction, watching you like his favorite entertainment. 

He smiles, stroking your hair. “How else are you supposed to learn?” He pouts. “If I can’t have my good girl, I’ll make her.” He brushes the saliva and gloss off your lower lip, then opens the bathroom door. 

It falls close with a slam. You stare at the graffitied, dirty mirror and think you might murder someone.

—

Matty is sizzling some meat, twisting salt and pepper above it. The kitchen staff runs around him— they’re late, falling behind because of a missing aioli sauce. 

You wait for your plate and dagger him with a glare. You’re still sticky and unsatisfied from yesterday; you spent until the early hours of the day rubbing between your thighs, desperately trying to satisfy some itch. 

Matty’s eyes rise up as though feeling the handmark of your stare on him. They lock with yours, take in your displeased, furious look, and he smirks. Winks at you. You grab the hot plate sliding across from you with a huff. 

Walking away with a balancing tray, you secretly wish for him to tug you into the nearest bathroom until the whole restaurant knows his name. He doesn’t, of course, and you find your hungry guests with the fakest, biggest smile of all. 

—

The restaurant is eerily calm before the dinner rush, a few seated tables scattered across sections: rushed parents and elderly folks slurping soup. You have just enough of a break to chug the bottle of water you keep at the host stand, pestering Adam as you finally have a minute to quench your thirst. 

Veronica finds you at the stand, leaning both elbows on the wood as she smiles sickly sweet at you. Your eyes narrow in apprehension. “I just got asked something interesting.” You arch an eyebrow. “Landon wants to know if you and Matty are a thing. Said Matty practically pissed all over you two days ago.” 

Your lips don’t even twitch. “Okay.” 

Veronica gives you an expectant look. “Well?” 

Beside you, Adam turns to his computer and decidedly chooses to ignore this. “I am not part of this conversation,” he declares. 

You roll your eyes. “We’re not a thing.”

Veronica laughs. “Oh, come on. No one here is blind. You guys eyefuck so much sometimes we feel like we’re intruding just by picking up a plate.” Admittedly, your cheeks heat up slightly at that. You didn’t think you were that obvious.

She sighs, giving you a serious look. “Just be careful. I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into. He’s not like the little goody-goody boyfriends you’ve had. He’ll eat you alive.”

You flutter your eyelashes, faux doe-eyed. “Promise?”

“Reservations, tables, tables. Mmh, chairs.”

You give her a look, entirely ignoring Adam’s interjection. “I’m young, Vee, but I’m not stupid. I’m telling you there’s nothing going on. We’re just having sex.” You click your tongue. “And even then, we’ve only done it, like, once. Once and a half at most.” 

“And a half?” Adam pipes up, then seems to remember who you’re talking about. He raises one hand, shaking his head, defeated. “I don’t even want to know.” He practically bends over the stand to see the computer, as though if he just got close enough to the screen, he could be sucked into its world. 

“I’m leaving for college in less than two months,” you continue. “I’m not trying to date him, or whatever other tragic ways you think he’s gonna break my heart.” You smirk, shrugging, “I just find the gray hair hot.” Veronica snorts at that. 

Still, there’s something relieved in her eyes. Maybe even proud. She smiles at you, then turns to Adam. “And what does Matty have to say about it?”

“No comments.” 

She gasps, facing you with an excited grin. “That means he’s talked about you!” You bite your lip. Could he have? What did he say? 

Veronica is already on it. She pokes Adam’s arm, forcing him to look up at her. “What has he said? C’mon.” She gives him a solemn look, holding her heart. “This is a safe space.”

“That it’s none of my business,” Adam deadpans. “And neither is it yours, brat.”

Before Veronica can add anything, a family of four enter the door, wiping off their sweaty, red foreheads. They laugh as they approach the stand, mentioning the weather. Adam practically jumps to greet them, begging them to follow him. 

“I’m sitting them in your section. That’ll give you something useful to do,” Adam hisses at Veronica, and she pokes her tongue out at him. 

She waits until he’s just out of earshot to trail, “Now that he’s gone…” She faces you with a smirk, rounding the stand and joining you. She gives you a teasing look, biting back a grin. “How was the sex?” You can’t stop the smile shining on your face. It breaks your cheeks. She gasps. “Oh, I knew it. Julia said he was the best sex of her life, too.” 

“She didn’t lie,” you admit, flushed. You cock your head. “You haven’t slept with him?” You’re almost surprised. For all her don’t fuck the line cooks warnings, you had assumed she must have been burned before. 

“Nah,” she shakes her head. She trails, teasing, “I was too busy with Ross.” 

“Hypocrite!”

“I never said anything about bartenders!” But before you can tease her more, Adam calls her name and Veronica’s off with a spin and four menus, blowing you a kiss.

—

It’s dark outside. The street lamps slope over cars, bathing the street in semi-obscurity. You cross your arms, some pretend at a shield. The crew has long left for The Darling while you finished up your closing duties. You wiped your forehead and found yourself too tired to handle another boozy, dancy night, to wake up the next day still a little drunk and off-kilter for a grueling Saturday shift. 

Something catches the corner of your eye. Your head turns, squinting to be sure you’re not mistaken. No, it really is Matty’s car parked in the alleyway. You’d recognize the dirty, beat-up thing anywhere for all the rides it has given you—not in the sense you would like. At least you can ask for one now, avoid the stressful walk home, clenched and quick, holding keys between your fingers. 

You dip into the dark alleyway, walking the cigarette butts-lined path. The car is smoky, a gray curtain to the outside world. You frown, knocking on the window of his backseat. Matty opens the door, bloodshot eyes staring at you, eyebrow arching. He holds a joint in one hand and the door’s handle in the other. The earthy smell attacks your nostrils; you scrunch your nose. 

“Don’t let the smoke out,” Matty chastises, sliding away to leave a spot beside him. 

Your brain throbs in your head. Flashes of grand preachy speeches given to friends as they passed bongs at parties come back to you. Embarrassingly, you flush and step into the car, closing the door behind you. 

Matty grins at you, pleased, taking a hit of his joint and blowing the smoke into the car. The air is heavy and thick, pressing against your skin. This is such a bad idea. 

“What are you still doing here?” You ask. He pointedly looks at the joint as though obvious. You roll your eyes. “You could do that at home.”

He shrugs, “Didn’t want to.”

“Are you gonna drive?” 

“Was planning to, yeah.” Your lips part for a scathing, moralizing reply, but he cuts you off, repeating in that same tone of yours, “Are you gonna give me a sermon?” 

You scowl. “Was planning to, yeah.” Matty chuckles. He knows you far too well already. 

“I’d leave if I were you, princess. This car’s becoming a hotbox.” 

You should, of course. Weed has carcinogens, and causes lung damages, and slows development, and wrecks the body’s natural nutrient reserve, and all the other priggish arguments you’ve known and repeated by heart. 

But Matty has a loose grin you find a little adorable. Gray-streaked hair flops as he leans his head on the backseat, lips drooping with the weight of the joint. The shape of them is addictive, a perfect O as he blows smoke out, just like he would on the inside of your thighs to get you to jump and squirm for him. 

Your breath is heavy. You feel stuck to the leather seats, skin gluing you in place to watch and rewatch the show he gives you. 

And, really, you’re a little curious about what weed is. Your friends have all indulged at some time or the other; your dormmate used to crack a window, light a candle, and infest the room with the earthy smell as if it would cover any of it up; even your mom would laugh and wave smoke away when you caught her off the clock with her coworkers back in LA. 

Matty laughs, languid and slack and, fuck, it’s such a pretty sound. “You don’t want to, do you?” He teases. Your cheeks heat up. “It’s okay, princess. Don’t even need to smoke it. Just breathe the air and save your pretty pink lungs. You can even do your little speech to me if it’ll make you feel better.” 

“Don’t condescend me,” you say, as though there’s not something sick in you that enjoys when he does it. Matty raises two arms in a show of innocence, cheeky as they fall down. He knows you like it, too. 

“My apologies, darling.” In complete contradiction, he spreads his knees and looks down at his lap, telling you, “Come sit on my knee.” And in complete contradiction to your warning, you do just what he asks. 

You don’t even think about it; you’re scooping yourself up and dropping on his knee, biting your lip as you settle over his tough jeans. His hand loosely holds your hip, looking at you pleased. 

Now that you’re on his lap, close enough to count his eyelashes, to lick the smoke off his lips, you feel yourself growing needy. The memory of a stolen orgasm in a dark bathroom comes back to you in hot flashes. You have to think about stilling your hips to stop you from grinding on his knee. 

“Are you serious about this?” He asks, arching an eyebrow. You’re not sure what he’s referring to, but the answer’s the same anyway;

“Yes.” 

He taps your hip. “Open your mouth, princess.” You’re flushing as you do so, imagining him spitting in it, slipping two fingers and making you slobber your sermon around them. Instead, he takes a hit of his joint and blows it into your mouth. You inhale as he’s taught you. “Good,” he grins. “You remember how.” 

“It’s not rocket science,” you bite, deadpan. 

“You’re right. Smart girl like you. This is nothing at all.” It hits true, strumming the right chords inside of you. You shift on his knee, holding back the shameful groan that threatens to spill out at the friction. It’s really not fair that he makes you sit here, close enough to kiss and rub and grind until you’re dripping on his lap, and not do it. 

Maybe you’re starting to feel something. Your body is light and slack, a pleasant buzz resonating through you. You feel relaxed, more than you have in years, always strung high, clenched and straight-backed. A giggle threatens out of you. 

Maybe it’s why you say, “I think you should fuck me.” Though, really, it’s all just an excuse for the fact that it’s all you’ve thought about for the past week, ever since that night in the walk-in fridge. You should do it again. Right now. Please. Over and over, like the beating drums of an earworm song. 

Matty smiles, indulgent. “Is that so?” You nod frantically. His fingers dig into your hip. He takes another hit, ever casual. “D’you think you deserve to?” 

“Yes.” 

“How so?”

“I—” You huff. Well, yes, maybe you haven’t really been anything but a brat recently, wearing low-cut tops and winking at other line cooks in hopes of riling him up. But it’s really his fault for getting you so fucking ready you’re begging for him, then walking off. You pout at him. “Please.”

“Ah-ah,” he says, tugging on your lip with his thumb, smearing your lipgloss. “None of that.” Being cute won’t seem to work this time. 

“I’ll earn it,” you say desperately. 

“How?”

Your mind scrambles. An idea sparks in your mind. You rise from his knee, then you get on yours in the cramped spot of the backseat. 

You look up at him, blinking innocently, hand traveling up his thigh. Matty takes the joint to his lips, but you can see from the way his chest rises and falls in quick succession that he’s worked up. Good. You fucking have him. 

You might be inexperienced, an unknower of pleasure, but if there’s one thing you can do, it’s a fucking blowjob. 

“Go on, then,” Matty says, choked. “Earn it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Your greedy hands finally find his waistband. You undo the button, fingers frantic as they work his jeans down enough to reveal his half-hard cock. You lick your lips, staring up at him while you wrap around his length. 

He hisses, bucking into your fist. His dark eyes are locked in yours, barely willing to move away from your face to take a good look at the little show your hand is giving him. It’s like he wants to see you, pupils wide and lips swollen, so fucking turned on and ready just to suck his cock. 

You slide up, swiping your hand up to his tip, collecting the precum and spreading it down. It’s a slow pace, meant to tease, to beguile him. Get him so ready for you he’s begging for once. 

You repeat the motion over and over, never in any kind of repeated rhythm for him to really get used to anything. His cock hardens in your hand until it’s standing proud and ready. Matty breathes heavily, letting a low sound out every time you brush his tip. You smirk every time, teasing your nails on his sensitive skin. 

“Stop teasing,” Matty warns. His hips fuck into your fist every time you slide down, silently begging for more. 

You cock your head, blinking up at him innocently. “Where are your manners?” 

“Careful,” he says with a dangerous tone. His eyes gleam. “You don’t want me to teach you another lesson.” 

You giggle. You dip your head down, kissing his tip. A moan spills out of him and you flash your teeth at him. You lower a little, pressing another kiss, then again, and again, until his whole cock is covered in tacky lipgloss. 

Your tongue sticks out to lick a stripe up his length, rounding his tip. Just when he’s ready to feel your warm mouth embrace him, you give him another sweet kiss. He curses under his breath. “You think you’re funny.” 

You lick mischief off your lips, staring up at him with a cheeky grin. “Say please.” 

His hand free of the joint rakes through your hair, grabbing a handful of it and tugging until you look up at him. Pleasure sparks from your head to your toes, reveling in the sensation. He sees right through you. 

He lets go of your hair, soothing the sting as he travels down your temple, your cheek, your chin, pushing a thumb between your lips and parting them. Thrill gathers in your belly. Your mouth hangs wide open, breathing harshly. “Do it or I will.” 

It’s his turn to be cocky, spotting how you shift on your knees at the graphic images he puts in your head. His hands in your hair, sure and strong as he fucks up into your— No. You want to show him what you can do, prove you’re not just some lost little girl. 

You laugh, sucking around his thumb then releasing it. Saliva coats it, and it dries on your cheek as he caresses it. “You’re no fun,” you tease, pouting. 

“Shouldn’t fuck a crass man if you wanted pleases and thank yous,” he retorts. “But then, you wouldn’t enjoy it, would you? Need to be railed dirty to get off, right?” 

Instead of answering— too proud to give him the yes he’s right to expect, you suck his tip into your mouth. He makes a low whine, patting your hair, swearing under his breath as you roll your tongue around him. “That’s a good girl,” he coos. “Take me in now.” 

There’s the instinct in you to do just the opposite, the born and bred need to be difficult, but you give in anyway, a bigger want to be extra good for him. You push him past your lips, lowering until he hits your throat. “Fuck,” he chokes. You smile around him, then bob your head. 

You set a steady pace, stroking what you can’t fit with your fist. The car fills with wet, gagging noise and those puffy breaths he takes. Your tongue sticks out, licking his length as it passes him, making him shiver under you. 

“Give me your hand,” he demands. You offer it without thinking, reaching up towards him palm-out. 

He takes your wrist and spits on your hand. Saliva drips on your palm as he lowers it back to his cock. He wraps your fingers around him, pumping himself once, then twice, then releasing you. You keep going to the same pace he set, cursing around his length, somehow more turned on now. 

Your hand works in tandem with your mouth. You leave his cock just long enough to spit on it yourself, spreading the saliva until he’s wet and messy, then bringing him back between your swollen lips. Precum and drool sticks to your chin, but you bob with a mission, uncaring of the sopping sounds that come out of your mouth. 

“Ah,” he groans. His head falls back on the seat, spreading his thighs as if to give you more space. You quicken your moves in response, trying to coax more pretty sounds of him. “Shit. Fucking hell,” he laughs. 

His eyes roll back, and he takes a hit of his dwindling joint. You stare at his lips as he does so, still as sickly fascinated by him smoking as you’ve always been. The car drenches in smoke, an added mix to the condensation dripping on the windows. 

Matty’s face pulls down to look at you, right as you swallow him up with an especially deep trust. He makes a whine, caresses your hair. Sees the way your eyes are dark and aroused for him, obsessed. “D’you want another hit?” He asks, cheeky. 

You release his cock, out of breath. “Yes.” Your hand continues to jerk him as you smile at him. 

“Magic word?”

You scoff. “Coming from you?” 

He laughs. “C’mon. How many tutors taught you all those good girl manners? Can’t destroy all that hard work. I don’t want to corrupt you too much.” Your eyes narrow at him. Your thumb swipes on his tip, stroking him quickly. He jumps at that, moaning. Matty shakes his head, hair flopping with it. “Minx.”

“Please,” you say, because you know it’s a lost battle to do anything but. You brush his tip on your lips, kitten-licking him, like some added argument. He smiles proudly. 

“Of course, princess.” The joint comes to you, end faced towards you, just enough out of reach that you have to kneel up to wrap your lips around it. You take a drag, tipping your head back as you blow it out. 

Your body feels hazy, tingling pleasantly throughout. There’s a loose smile on your lips as you bend down to swallow him back in your mouth. Euphoria twists in your mind, pulling at the strings of you, and you double in efforts eagerly, happily. 

You bob quicker, deeper, moaning around his length. You breathe through your nose, trying not to gag every time he hits the back of your throat. It’s all worth it for the swears he mutters under his breath, low groans filling the car. Every fucked-out praise shoots you straight to the core. You’re dripping on the floor, wet and empty and begging for him. 

“My perfect girl,” he praises, a whiny, worshiping sound. “So pretty on her knees for me. Fucking drooling everywhere.” You laugh at that, feeling saliva drip down your cheeks. “You were made for my cock, weren’t you? Made for me.” 

You try to agree, but it’s a slobbering mess around his dick. The vibrations are enough; his eyes roll back into his skull, his hips jump. You choke on his length, releasing him with a cough, then diving back to work. 

“Can’t fucking get enough of me,” he says. His hand caresses your hair, a soothing motion. “D’you want more?” 

You nod around him. He smiles, gripping a hand in your hair. The sting gives you the same reaction as before; you moan around him, toes tingling. He pushes your mouth deeper around him. This time, you expect it; breathing through your nose, you welcome him in your throat. 

“There you go,” he whines. He can’t stop looking at you, at the mess of your mouth. “So fucking filthy.” Again, he presses you down. A moan spills out of him. You grip his knee with your free hand. 

Matty controls your head, pushing it deeper and deeper around his cock, making the most fucked-out noises from the feel of it. You pump him with your hand every time he pulls you up to his tip, stroking back to the base as he lowers you down. He does it quicker and quicker, setting a fast pace. Again, you shift on your knees, trying to soothe away that burning need between your thighs. 

Matty spots it immediately. “Are you wet?” He taunts, though it’s a little ridiculous when he’s out of breath and on the edge of a moan. You nod around him, a little whine coming out, and he smirks. “Soaked ‘cause you’re sucking my dick, huh? If I knew it got you going like this, I would have had your mouth around me every single fucking day, darling.” And it’s not like you would have objected, considering you’re the one who’s been practically chasing him for the past week. 

“Dirty girl. They all think you’re so innocent, but I know.” He smirks. “Bet your father would love to know what I’m doing to his precious girl.” Need and shame burn inside of you, and you can’t figure out which one makes you flush and your mind spin. Cockiness drips from his tongue as he trails, “‘S not my fault his daughter loves my cock, right?” You don’t know whether to nod or shake your head, instead moaning around him. 

Matty reaches the joint out, telling you, “Hold that.” You frown. It’s unlit by now, useless, and he could certainly throw it anywhere in the backseat to fish it out later. It’s not like his car is clean; trash litters it, cigarette burns scar the leather, and the smell of weed is permanent. Still, you don’t question it, unwrapping your hand from his cock to take the joint. 

It becomes apparent, then, why he asked you. Raking two hands through your hair, he keeps your head in place as his hips fuck up into you. With your hand gone and occupied, he thrusts deeper into your mouth. You gag around him, and he releases you just enough to catch your breath, before pumping past your lips again. 

He groans at every stroke, burying your nose in the faint hair scattering up his belly. Pleasure blooms on his face. He’s so pretty, so vulnerable and fucked out, face wrinkling and lips panting. 

His head falls down to look at you again. He makes a whine from the back of his throat. “Fuck, you’ve got spit everywhere.” It’s true, chin wet as slurping sounds resonate on the steamy windows. 

If your ex-boyfriend had even tried to lose a hand in your hair and push your head down, you’d have bit him with a vengeance. But kneeling like this with Matty using you only brings a sick pleasure out of you. You feel your core throb, thighs sticky with need. You don’t know what he’s doing to you, don’t understand how he manages to ruin you so thoroughly. 

Your nails dig into his knee, the other hand pinching the joint. Your eyes water at every thrust until tears roll down your eyes, mixing with the wet of your cheeks and chin. 

Matty awes, sickly amused as he sings, “Are you crying?” You feel suddenly embarrassed, attempting to shake your head, deny the proofs streaming down your cheeks. “Is Daddy’s dick too big for you?” The nickname strikes through the daze, shock and arousal coursing through your veins. 

Matty doesn’t even realize what he’s said, too gone to mind any words. A string of curses  comes next as he bobs your head. Still, it’s all you can think about, playing back the word in that filthy head of yours. 

“You’re doing so well, baby,” he promises. “Just a little bit more.” His hand strokes your cheek, wiping at the runaway tears. “Gonna make me come so hard. D’you want my cum?” You nod vaguely. He grins at that. “Yeah? Wanna fucking swallow it?” You hum around him, excited. He moans, “Fuck. You’re such a slut.” 

Again, there should be outrage, should be a dramatic tear off his dick as you tell him off, but he says it in such a reverent way, like a compliment, a praise, and you find yourself whining around him instead. Your cunt throbs, empty and lonely, and maybe you are a slut after all. You’ve been nothing but a needy, begging mess for him anyway. If it gives you this much pleasure in exchange, is there really something wrong with it? 

Matty senses the way you preen under the name. He smirks, fucking up faster, chasing an end. “My little slut. So perfect, made for me. Would spend her days on her knees, wouldn’t she? Till she’s all bruised and fucked out.” His thrusts grow erratic. “I’d take care of you, princess. I’d put you in the best bed and I’d pump you full of my cum until you’re dripping with it. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Like being my little fucktoy?” A yes comes out garbled out of your mouth. “All those smarts, gone for a dirty man like me. Fucking ironic, isn’t it?” 

You hollow your cheeks, run your tongue, hope to finish him. Hear his pretty cries, see his scrunched, coming face, taste his cum. Let it be your turn. 

You take back charge as Matty gets too hazy to make sense of anything, much less the furious tempo he’s set. You bob up and down with abandon, slobbering everywhere. His hips stutter, meeting you halfway. His cock twitches in your mouth. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Matty cries. His fingers dig into your hair, pulling vengefully. “Shit, princess, I’m—” With a scream, he comes on your tongue. 

His body shivers as the tangy taste of white ropes spill down your throat. You swallow everything, watching his face as it grows peaceful. A slack, happy smile shines on his lips. He strokes your hair, as if an apology. 

Only when he softens do you pull out of him, saliva stringing from his tip to your lip. You lick it off, chuckling. Show off your empty mouth. His cum is all gone. 

“Good girl,” Matty praises, out of breath. He tucks his cock back in his jeans. “What do we say now?” 

“Thank you.” 

He hums. “I think you deserve a reward for doing so well for me.” You grin at him, childishly excited. He laughs, taking both your hands and raising you off your knees. “You want that, don’t you?” You bite your lip.

As soon as you’re up, he digs under your skirt, pulling off your underwear. You gasp as the air hits your bare skin. He rubs a thumb on the wet patch of the pink fabric, arching an eyebrow for you. “So fucking ready for me just from sucking my cock.” 

“Not just from sucking your cock,” you say. “I’ve been ready for you all week.”

“Is that so?” Matty flips you around, sitting you square on his lap, your back against his chest. This close, you can smell the sweat and weed on him. Each leg hangs from the sides of his knees. He parts them, spreading you wide, putting you on display. 

There’s the knowledge that anyone could see you tugging at the back of your mind. No matter the smoke, and the fogged up windows, and the dark of the night, it’s still a public alleyway. They could walk in on you, cunt out, wet and throbbing. It’s nasty, and it’s hot, and now you’re grinding against nothing, hoping for friction. 

Thankfully, Matty indulges you, wrapping his arm around your waist and teasing two fingers over your swollen clit. You jump, already oversensitive, moaning at the little contact. He rubs in slow circles. 

“I could have had you any time, then?” He whispers in your ear. “Could have pulled you in the dry storage and had my dirty way with you?” 

“Yes.” 

His touch becomes faster, pressing harder, zeroing in on your bud with a middle finger. You scrunch your face, already so close. A little pout comes on your face. You don’t want to finish without his fingers inside of you, not when you’ve been this eager for them. Your pussy clenches around nothing, unsatisfied. 

“Any day, any time, anywhere?” His hand ghosts at your entrance, gathering a pool of your dripping juices. 

“Yes,” you repeat, almost frustrated he doesn’t get it. You need him all the time. He seems satisfied by your answer, dipping two fingers inside your cunt. 

You gasp, wrinkling your face with the overwhelming euphoria that spreads through you. The stretch is delicious. You’re already rolling your hips into his fingers, begging for more. 

He bites at your earlobe, licking down your neck. Husky and gravely, he teases, “You would scream my name so the whole restaurant knows whose cock is fucking you this good? So they know that little princess likes to get railed filthy by an old, sleazy man?” As though to demonstrate, he pumps his fingers quicker into you. Sopping sounds resonate with your answering whines. 

It’s a silly question. As if you haven’t had that exact fantasy before, playing over and over as guests criticize your every move. You insist, “Yes, Daddy.”

Matty’s fingers freeze inside of you. His heart races, the rhythm drumming on your back. Your eyes snap open, scared you’ve done something wrong. He’s the one who— A flush spreads up your cheeks. You’re so disgusting, using that nickname while he— 

“Say it again.” He’s choked and out of breath. Turned on. You smirk, victorious. 

You grip his wrist and make him pump inside of you again. You let your head fall on his shoulder, moaning, “Daddy, please, make me come.” 

“Fuck.” It’s all the incentive he needs, apparently, because now he’s thrusting and curling inside of you, finding that magical spot each time. The heel of his hand rubs at your clit, making jolts of pleasure spark through you. His other hand snakes around your chest and paws at your breast, digging under your shirt to rub the nipple. 

Every sensation works perfectly together to get you buzzing with ecstasy. You feel drunk— or high— mind swirling inside your head until all you know is his name. Your core tightens, toes curling and uncurling. 

“Come on my fingers,” he demands, voice low and hoarse. “Fucking drench Daddy’s hand. I wanna taste you.”

There’s something so desperate in his voice that makes you even needier. You throb around his digits, eyebrows furrowing, strings thinning. He pinches your nipple. You open your mouth with a silent cry, shaking all over. 

“That’s it,” he coos. “I got you, baby. You’re right there.” You nod frantically. “Just come for me. Come. Come—” Just like he demands, your body breaks and you shatter on his fingers. 

Euphoria spreads through you, that overwhelming sense of relief. His name burns your tongue, over and over, a plea and a reverence and a worship. He continues to slide in and out of you, slowly, tenderly, until you’re done shaking and throbbing. 

Your body hums pleasantly, bone-deep happy. You practically melt on his body, each limb letting go and settling into him. You sigh, satisfied. Finally haunts your head. Yet, you’re already looking out for next time. 

Matty pulls out of you. He brings his wet fingers to his mouth; you hear the pornographic moan he makes as he cleans them. You flush, too tired to make a chastising comment. 

“Best meal in town,” he says, cheeky. You half-slap him, half-giggle. 

His hand falls from your breasts, but wraps around your waist instead, pulling you even closer, trapping you in the heat of his arms. He kisses your cheek. “We can stay like this for a little while. I’ll drive you home after.” 

You crack an eye open. “Are you high?”

He scoffs. “No.” He grins against your cheek, teasing, “You’ve sobered me up.”

Being cute does not distract you. You hum, unconvinced. “What’s the alphabet backwards?”

“Are you fucking kidding—” He blows air from his nose. Resigned, he recites, “Z, Y, X—”

—

It’s fifteen past ten and the house is empty. Groceries linger on the kitchen island and you could, theoretically, put them all together yourself. Though it’s just not quite the same when you have to do the work under the orange light of the kitchen hood, alone except for some sad blues and a bottle of white and the sizzling sound of the pan. 

In your hand, an apologetic text flashes at you. You bite on a humus dipped carrot, bitter. You understand, you say, and pretend you believe him when he swears he’ll make it up to you. You take a long sip of your wine glass. 

You stare at the lonely apartment. An idea tickles the back of your mind. It would be a waste of wine, and space, and freedom if you dutifully went to bed now. Your hand lingers on his contact, then press on the picture of Matty’s frown, cigarette hanging between his lips. 

I have my place all to myself. Do you wanna come? You hit send before you overthink it. A rush of anxiety swipes through you. 

He’s quick to answer. depends. do i get to cum anywhere? You roll your eyes. He’s truly insufferable sometimes. 

Invitation retracted. 

i’m on my way

You can’t control the pleased grin on your face, but there’s no one to see it anyway. You can indulge a little in the childish thrill that blooms inside your stomach. You feel sunshine from the inside-out. 

He’s ringing your doorbell the next time you hear of him. By then you’re already a little flushed with wine, practically running to the door to buzz him in. 

A knock resonates just a few minutes later. You swing the door wide open. “Hi.” Again, you can’t seem to control your giddy smile. 

“You shouldn’t open the door just like that. I could’ve been a bad man.” 

“You are.” Matty snorts. You move out of the doorframe, gesturing for him to step inside. 

He walks your flat with confidence, though he hasn't been here since that fatal night and, even then, it had been a quick in and out thing. He lingers a little to take in the set-up. The open floor plan, the L leather couch, the massive dining table and the kitchen island that hasn’t seen any action in months. It’s a shame for a family of chefs how little you use it. 

It’s the first time you’ve seen him outside of a work setting, either a grueling shift or the drunk aftermath. He’s cleaner; white shirt rid of stains, jeans unburdened by an apron. He still sports a stumble, ever lazy to shave it off, but his hair sprouts in soft curls from his head. There’s a lack of gloomy energy, like what you thought was a permanent tired look was, in fact, reserved for the restaurant. He looks good is what you mean.

Matty stares you up and down shamelessly, taking in your off-duty outfit as well. A collared shirt buttoned conservatively, tucked into a black skirt, leather heeled loafers and white socks at your feet. Your hands shine with silver rings. You are, admittedly, much cleaner than him. Matty seems to dig your preppy look anyway, licking a gaze up and down your legs, rubbing his smirk away with two of his fingers. 

You side-step him, making your way to the kitchen. Matty follows behind you, taking the time to gaze at the paintings dotting your walls. Pretentious things your father bought because he was told by other people they were masterpieces, they were technical, they were touching. You get to the cabinets, searching for a matching wine glass.  

“Why’d you invite me?” Matty asks, seemingly an afterthought. He peers at your half-empty glass, raising it to examine the wine. 

“I was supposed to have dinner with my dad, but he’s too busy today after all.” You turn to Matty with a glass in hand. “There’s some sort of important event with investors that just came up. He couldn’t untangle himself,” you press. You don’t know why you feel the need to rehash your father’s excuses, as though you had to defend him to Matty. It’s silly; he doesn’t even care, instead bringing your wine glass to his nose and giving it a swirl.

“It’s a Chenin Blanc.” You say as you uncork the bottle, pouring him his own glass. You slide it his way, tsking regretfully, “It was gonna pair beautifully with the seared scallops.” There’s a tinge of bitterness in your voice, and you try your best to smooth it. You can’t sound annoyed. 

“Served with what?” 

“Baby spinach and spiced pomegranate glaze.” 

“Damn,” Matty shakes his head. “That does sound good.” He takes a seat at the dining table, shamelessly making himself at home. He cocks his head, bringing the glass to his lips. “So, what? You invited me to cook it for you instead?”

Your lips twitch. “I’ve already eaten actually.” A mismatch of carrots, humus, swiss cheese and chocolate-covered blueberries eaten standing up at the kitchen island, but a meal nonetheless. 

Matty hums. He leans back on his chair, smirking to himself. “You know, I feel a bit peckish myself.” 

Your arch an eyebrow, playful as you drawl, “Is that so?” The cheeky, knowing look on his face wakes the heat in your belly. You clench your thigh; he spots it, amused. “There’s food in the fridge.” 

“A miracle! She has more than kraft dinner.”

“I didn’t specify which food. Maybe mac’n’cheese is all that’s waiting for you.”

Matty smiles. “I think I’m craving something else.” His hand reaches out, grabbing yours until you stumble into him. 

You grip his shoulders to balance yourself, both legs siding one of his knees. He looks at you with those dark, dangerous eyes that announce nothing but trouble. You tower over him, see him blinking his spiderleg eyelashes up at you. His lips part, pretty and red. A rush of excitement shoots through you. Your breath hitches. 

“Wow,” you say, mocking. “You just got here and you’re already trying to bend me over the table. Didn’t even ask me about my day.” 

“Oh, sorry,” he says, faux-apologetic. His hands dig into your thighs, picking you up and hoisting you on the table. You sit before him, blush as he spreads your legs out for him. With a cheeky, shit-eating grin, he looks up at you and says, “How was your day, princess?”

You up your nose, ignoring his bait. “It was good. I—” His hands rise up your thighs, brushing against your silky smooth skin. You can’t stop the shivers. “Fuck, I went to the library and—” 

He bends down, peppering sweet kisses where his fingertips had been. Your breath hitches at the ghosting touch, teasing and tickling and lighting you up. He looks up at you, face nearing where you need him most. “Mmh, and what?” 

“Just— shit.” He spreads your legs further apart, giving him ample access to bite and suck at your thigh, which he does with worshiping abandon. He soothes away the hurt with a tongue. You pant, moaning lowly, “I started early on my first week readings for—”

Matty snorts. “Nerd.”

“It’s actually really essential to—” He slips your underwear aside, finding your clit and thumbing a lazy circle on it. “Ah, fucking hell, Matty!” 

He smiles, so fucking proud. His finger speeds up. “What book did you read?” 

“Well, the textbook. It was— It’s about—” Words escape your mouth when his tongue is burning your skin, getting closer and closer to where his thumb is hard at work. Euphoria shakes in your stomach. You bite your lip, gripping the edge of the table. 

“Yes?” He blinks up at you, condescendingly begging, “Please, educate a poor, simple plebeian.”

You bite your cheek, teasing, “I don’t know if I can. He’s really only good at fucking.”

Matty rolls his eyes. “You’re missing the other reason I’m good with my hands.”

And he makes it easy to forget all about his cooking skills when he dips two fingers inside your wet entrance, pumping you slowly on the dinner table. God-given hands, made to bring you to the very edge and back. You curse, gripping the wood under your palms even harder. 

“I’m waiting.”

You huff. “It’s microeconomics. It’s comparing comparative averages and absolute advantages of high.” 

He grins. “Well, which one wins?”

“Comparative. It’s always better as you lose because the opportunity cost is smaller and— Oh, fuck—” Your legs tremble, your face scrunching as he hits the sinful spot inside of you that has you singing. You pant to catch your breath, groaning, “It’s better when you— Matty—”

“My smart girl,” Matty praises, curling his fingers inside of you just so. “You learned all of this already. Don’t even need to study that you’re fucking moaning it for me.” He plants a kiss on the top of your thigh. “It’s better when…”

Your mind is languid, euphoria pumping inside of you with the rhythm of his hand. You try to blink to conscience, peering down at him. “It’s better when the opportunity cost—” He makes rapid swipes at your clit and pleasure jolts through you. You shake your head. “You know what? You don’t need to know all this. You can just be dumb and pretty and warm my bed all day. Be my trophy husband.”

He snickers. “Yeah? Gonna make me your little housewife?” 

You grin, volleying back, “Keep you cooking and fucking all day while I earn the big bucks, babe.” One hand rises up to his hair, digging into the mess of it. You smirk. “But you’d have to be very good for me. Keep me satisfied at all times.” 

“Oh, don’t worry.” His fingers quicken, thrusting in and out of you until you’re whining for him. “I’d fill you up every night and leave you sticky and happy.” The wet sounds of your cunt fill the kitchen. You don’t doubt him for one second. 

Your breath leaves in puffs out of your mouth. You tilt your head back, moaning for the ceiling, eyes wrinkled shut. Your hand tugs at his hair, rejoicing in his pathetic little groans. You fall back, smiling mischievously at him. “I thought you were hungry.”

His eyes flash. “Fucking famished.” He bends down and licks your cunt. 

You jump, rolling your hips into his face, chasing those delicious reverbs. He licks at your clit with a pointed tongue, pressing into the sensitive bundle of nerves until honey ecstasy is spreading through your veins. 

One hand fucks into you with calculated efficiency; hard and fast, just like you like it. The other holds your red underwear aside, fingers pressing into the meat of your thigh, leaving fingertip prints to remember him by. 

“Matty!” Pleasure boils inside of you. You’ve missed his tongue, missed the way he tastes at you: starved, diligent, fucking slurping the last drop. You cry his name over and over, a sweet chant that encourages him on. 

Thank fuck for his hands. They slide wetly inside of you, searching for hot ecstasy and pulling it out of you in drowning moans. You tug at his hair, grip the table, try to attach yourself to something as you;

“Matty, I’m—” He knows, of course, because you’re throbbing around his fingers. He circles your clit with his tongue, swiping at it, adding enough sinful pleasure that you feel your orgasm grow and grow. It expands in your belly, threatens your limbs; “I’m gonna—”

You come with a scream, falling apart on his tongue. He doesn’t slow yet. His mouth is hard at work, his fingers pumping into you still. He chases your orgasm until the end, until you’re shaking and whimpering from the intensity. You push his head, and only then does he release you, smiling up at you with sticky cheeks. 

“Good?”

You brush his curls back, smiling happily. “You might earn yourself a weekly allocation if you keep it up, babe.” 

“I’m the luckiest trophy husband in the world.” 

You twist one of his curls around his finger, so light and elated that you feel no shyness or shame to say, “D’you want to see my room?” 

He half-grins. “Yeah.” 

You jump from the table, grabbing his hand. He lingers by the table just long enough to shoot back half of his wine glass in one gulp, slamming it down on the table with a satisfied sigh. It stands there with a stain of your slick in the shape of his lips. 

You deadpan him. “Good wine shouldn’t be wasted,” he defends. 

“I don’t even think you let it stay on your tongue long enough to taste it.” 

You regret your choice of words as soon as you say them. Cursing, you already expect the joke when he quips, “Didn’t want to disrupt the other taste that’s in my mouth right now, you see?” 

You roll your eyes. “It’s down the hallway,” you say, and tug at his hand until he follows. 

You push the door into your childhood bedroom. It’s a clean, organized place, but it maintains its youthful element, like a time capsule. Matty steps in, intrigued. It’s the first time he’s ever been and he paces it with curiosity. 

The shelves are decorated with childhood trophies; debate, math, punctuality. Even a participation medal from fifth grade soccer hangs on the corner. Thick, leather books mix with colorful cracked spines of YA literature on the bookshelf, along with fake plants and gaudy trinkets. The walls host picture frames of dental braced friends smiling wide. You have awful bangs in some of them and you stick your tongue out at the flash. On the bed, Mr Snuffles — a leopard plushie — lays like a king. 

You flush. You hadn’t realized how childish your bedroom at home still was. You’ve got an uncomfortable need to tear it all down and build it back as a refined, clean look..

“Cute,” he says, and you want to bury straight into the ground. He taps a picture of prom where you hold the arm of a visibly nervous teenage boy. “Was that your little boyfriend who couldn’t make you come?”

“No, that was my friend. I wasn’t interested in dating back then. I was a very serious girl.” 

He chuckles, turning back to you. He jokes, “Hard to believe now.” You shake your head, pretending to be bothered. He eyes the photograph once more. “You look pretty.” 

“Thanks.” It comes squeaked out of your lips. You really didn’t expect the compliment. 

He continues to inspect until you grow tired of it. You huff, deciding to go on the offensive until he takes a hint. “You know, I’ve actually never had any guy here before.” 

Matty flips to you, grinning. “No?” 

“No.” Your fingers fly to your collar and slowly start unbuttoning the top one, a silent invitation. 

“Very, very serious girl.” Matty watches your fingers, devouring the skin you unveil for him. The cups of your red bra peek in view. His eyes grow dark, though he still doesn’t move to do it himself. 

“I was very studious.” 

You get to your very last button. The shirt parts, a cracked door vision into your needy body. Matty drawls, slow and nonchalant, unrushed, “Must’ve spent a lot of time with your hand between your legs, then, if no one’s been here before.”

You try not to grow embarrassed. You have spent a lot of time doing so, mostly in recent weeks. You push the shirt past your shoulders and it drops at your feet. Matty’s eyes immediately fall to your breasts, rising with panting breaths for him. 

“Maybe,” you whisper shyly. You bend down to slip off your shoes, sliding your socks off your feet. 

“Thought about me a lot during it?” He asks, cocky. 

You straighten up again. You dig in your cheek, feeling both of them heat. “Maybe.” You find the zipper at your side and draw it down slowly, teasingly. Your skirt falls limply around your hips and you shimmy it down your legs. 

It seems you’ve found yourself half-naked to a very much dressed Matty again. His gaze devours every inch of your skin, licking up your legs, biting your hips, teasing your navel. You grow wet between your thighs just from the promise in his eyes. 

Your hand reaches behind yourself to your bra, but Matty tuts. “That’s mine,” he says, and there’s an air of danger in his voice. Your arms fall back to your sides, burned. You stand a bit straighter for him, aching deep inside yourself. 

Matty takes long, slow steps towards you, letting the need boil and bubble inside of you. He stands before you, looking down into your eyes. Your lips part, your heart screams his name. He grazes two fingers along your waist, snaking to your back, and kisses you. 

You respond with an eager tongue, opening your lips up to him and kissing him back. He still tastes like you, like your slick that dried on his cheeks. You shiver at the thought. 

His hands find the small of your back, heavy and pressing into you, so fucking present you feel your mind twists on itself. You travel yours up his arms, finding his shoulders and sneaking into the hair at his nape. 

He tilts his head to change the angle and your legs clench. He draws out all your wanton needs with his skilled tongue, makes you putty and malleable. You’re ready for him, for anything. 

His fingers dance on your spine, climbing up each vertebrae until they catch on your bra band. Your breath hitches. He unhooks it. Matty stops kissing you to pull the bra off your arms. 

Your breasts lay in view, pebbled and peaked. He takes a good look at them, then bends down to catch a nipple into his mouth. “Fuck, Matty!” Your hands twist at his curls, tugging and patting as he sucks and nips your tits. 

He leaves bites on the underside, your sternum, kissing and licking down your stomach until he knees before you. You moan, still unused to the sight of him. Each hand hooks to a side of your underwear and he pulls it down and off your legs. You keep a stabilizing grip on his hair as you step out of it. 

Matty comes back up to you, breathing harshly. He kisses your lips one last time, then draws you on the bed. You’re laying on the purple sheets for him, naked and wet and flushed. Every body part is aware of him and looks it. 

Still, Matty takes a step back. “Show me what you do when you think of me.” You stare at him in shock. You’re naked for him, laying on your bed in godly offerance like a fucking daydream, and he wants you to finger yourself? 

Matty laughs. “Come on, princess,” he teases. “Show Daddy.” The nickname jolts you. Tiny, electrical shivers run down your spine and you bite your lip, brushing a hand down your stomach. 

You waste no time, too drunk on pleasure and want to bother teasing yourself. You part your legs and rub two fingers on your swollen clit, jumping at the sudden feeling. You bite your lip, cracking your eyes open to find Matty’s

His eyes watch you with obsession. You make a low whimper for him, circling your bundle of nerves, arching your back. A tantalizing show, hopefully enough to get him to touch you. You want him so deeply you’re shivering for him, hot and dripping all over. 

You’re efficient and quick; you know all the spots of yourself and press them just so. Pleasure is not something you draw out, pumping and rubbing until you develop carpal tunnel. You’re in and out, wiping your fingers clean on your thigh. 

It’s why you’re already dipping your digits inside yourself. You cry at the stretch, though never as delicious and fulfilling as his. Still, ecstasy runs through your body. 

“Matty,” you moan, and once again hope the breathy, needy shape of his name in your mouth is enough to get him to replace your hardworking fingers. 

“I’m right here, baby,” he says, transfixed by your hands, your mouth, your panting tits. You see his gaze and smirk, grabbing your breast and twisting the nipple. A low whine leaves you. “Fuck. Does that feel good?” 

You nod furiously. Your fingers slide quickly in and out of you. “Not as good as you, though,” you pout. 

Matty grins, cocky and a dick about it. “‘Course not.” 

Your eyes flutter shut. You let yourself be taken over by the euphoria swimming through you. Your mouth calls his name like it was him making you feel this way and not the three fingers fucking into you. In a way, it’s the fact that he’s here that draws this overwhelming pleasure out of you. It’s never been this intense with yourself. 

“What do you think of when you’re in your head?” He whispers, sounding affected by the spectacle you give him. 

You bite your lip, trembling. “You. You on your knees for me behind the bar. You bending me over the sink of the bathroom in the middle of two guests. You letting me suck your dick on the staircase of the alleyway. You fingering me at The Darling in front of Landon until I fucking come all over the booth.”

“All these nasty thoughts while you’re tucked tight in your little bed?” 

You nod. “I replay that night in the kitchen over, and over, and over. I know every little detail, everything you've done to me—” Behind your eyelids, graphic images of you pressed into the ground, giggling and coming, flash to you. It’s too much; you snap. Your eyes flash open. “Fuck me, Daddy. Please.”

“You need it?”

“I need it so, so bad.” Your wrist is tired between your legs. Still, you work, feeling the intensity build to an impossible degree. “Need you. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”

“Shit,” he groans. You see the tent in his jeans and know he’s just as ready as you. “Don’t worry, princess. I’ll give it to you.” A grin shines on your face. You clench around your fingers in excitement. “Just as soon as you come for me.”

You pout. A whiny cry comes out of you. “It’s not the same without you.” 

“I know, baby,” he pouts, faux-broken over it as if he wasn’t the one putting you through this torture. “You’re doing so well for me. I wanna see you come now, though. Can you do that for me?”

Your stomach tightens and you know that you can, that you will. You’re still a little bitter, holding back as though in just a few seconds Matty was gonna get to his knees and finish you off yourself. 

“Your clit’s feeling a little neglected, isn’t it?” You moan, pressing into your bud like he silently demanded. Your legs kick at the sensation. You arch your back, crying to the ceiling. “That’s it. You’re so close.” You rub and fuck until you can taste the ecstasy. Goddammit. 

“You’re right there,” he says, and makes it true. You feel your orgasm threaten the edges of you. “Just a bit more. Come on, fuck yourself. Think of me, of my cock. That’s right, princess.” You scream, staring into his eyes. He devours each inch of you, so fucking eager. “You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you? Right now. Come for Daddy.” With a mewl, your climax crashes through you. 

Your body slackens, pleasure swooping through you in one grandiose wave. Relief washes you, and then the slight bitterness that it was all your own doing. Barely reeling from the orgasm and you’re already needing more. 

You don’t ride out the climax; Matty rips your fingers out of you and sucks them into his mouth. You sigh at the sight as he rolls his tongue around your digits. It’s sinful the way he moans, like the best fucking meal of his life. 

He releases them with a pop, then kisses your palm. “So good, babe. You did amazing.” He kisses your wrist. “You’re my little princess, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you pout. His lips trail up your arm, tickling your sensitive skin. You shiver, moaning as he brushes your shoulder and licks up your collarbone. 

“How do you want me? Since you’ve been thinking about it all the fucking time.” He kisses your neck. You moan, fluttering your eyelashes. 

“I wanna ride you,” you breathe out. 

Matty smirks against your skin. “Yeah? Gonna get yourself off on Daddy’s dick?”

You grin, nodding eagerly. “Gonna make you feel so good, too.” 

He smiles. “Alright then, baby.” He rolls onto his back, pulling you on top of him. You sit on his lap like a throne. “Make me feel good.”

You shake your head, pulling his shirt up his chest. “Get naked first. I wanna see you.” 

“She’s demanding.”

“It’s my fantasy.” Matty chuckles. Still, he tugs his shirt off his shoulders, throwing it beyond your bed. 

You had been so drunk on his cock the first time it happened, you hadn’t been able to really get a good look at him. This time, your eyes lap up every inch of his skin, especially the tattooed ones. You draw the outlines of them with the tip of your fingers. He shivers at the feeling as you dance on his hip, his happy trail, his chest. You press a hand there, holding yourself up. 

“Pants,” you order. You have a finely tuned demanding voice; you’ve led many school projects with an iron fist and an unarguable tone. Still, you know Matty only humors you when he obeys, kicking off his shoes, unbuttoning his pants and pushing them off. 

His cock slaps his stomach. It’s hard and leaking, and your mouth waters at the sight. You feel your sticky thighs beg for him. Cunt fluttering, you take him in your fist, jerking him slowly. Matty moans as his head falls back on the pillows. Oh, you will like that. Already, the power rushes to your head, loosening it drunkenly. 

You hoist yourself on your knees, then hesitate. Quickly, you grab your leopard plushie and turn him around until he faces the other way. 

Matty stares at you in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?” 

“Mr. Snuffles doesn’t need to see that!” You cry out, defensive. 

“I can’t believe I’m about to shag in a bed with a stuffed toy right there.”

You raise your eyebrows, cocky. “Don’t get it wrong. I’m shagging you.”

Matty’s hands travel up to your hips, spreading over the bones possessively. He smiles up at you. “Do it, then. Fuck me.” You smile, taking his cock and leading it to your dripping cunt. 

You line it up, then slowly slide down on his length. Loud, relieved moans leave your and Matty’s mouth. A shared song drumming up both your spines in harmony. You bottom out and think fucking finally. 

“Oh, God,” you breathe, eyes rolling back. You take a second there, immobile, reveling in the heavenly moment. The way he fills you up so perfectly, stretches you in the most delicious ways. Your cunt throbs around him, eager. 

He makes a low curse, digging his nails into your hips. You sense his becoming restless, the insistent way he presses into your skin, as though physically stopping himself from holding you in place and fucking up into him. Indulgently, you begin moving. 

You haven’t been on top very often. You always used to find yourself sore and tired and bored after a few minutes, begging to either roll onto your back or end it right there. This time, however, there’s a practically all-consuming need to succeed. You want to fuck him, to permanently engrave his brain with the memory of you. 

You come at it like schoolwork; focused, diligent, persistent. You attempt experimental thrusts at first, getting yourself used to how deep he hits you. It’s slow, tentative things; you try different angles, sliding in and out, frowning as you analyze the different ways pleasure blooms under your skin. 

Under you, Matty groans, puffing out breaths. “I can hear you thinking. Stop it.”

You arch an eyebrow. “It was ‘what a smart girl’ thirty minutes ago, but now it’s ‘turn off your brain’?”

“Exactly. Want you to be fucked stupid now.” 

You snort. “That’s not gonna happen.” 

He hums, smirking. “Don’t give me a challenge.” You roll your eyes. 

You settled on a rocking rhythm, something that hits all the perfect places inside of you. Your hair sticks to your nape, effort trembling your thighs already. You moan, roll your head back. “Like that?” You breathe out. Euphoria begins to prickle at your skin and your smile slackens your mouth. 

“Yeah, baby,” Matty nods. “Just—” His hold on your hips is strangling. His hands clench, begging you to give something mindnumbing. “Go faster.” 

You ignore his request, continuing that slow, teasing pace. You love feeling every inch of his cock as you buck on it, love to hear him grow desperate for you for a change. Every pathetic, quiet groan he makes resonates straight to your core. Head still rolled back to the ceiling, you rock stubbornly, smiling to yourself. 

A particularly artful stroke has your nails digging into his chest. He shivers under you. “Fuck, faster,” Matty pants.  

You smirk down at him, cheeky. “What’s the magic word, princess?” 

Matty rolls his eyes. “Don’t get bratty,” he says, then gives your ass a warning spank. You jump at the sting, bucking on his cock. Low heat simmers through you. You bite your lip, quickening your thrusts dutifully. Matty smirks at you, all-knowing. 

You speed up, falling back on his length again and again until the slapping sounds of your skins fill the room. You sense the resonating ecstasy pull at your stomach. You’re aware, unfortunately, that he’s right. It’s better, stronger. 

“That’s right,” he says, and you want to slap that shit-eating grin off his lips. “Fucking faster.” You obey like some deep-seated instinct, bouncing above him. 

A part of you wants to slow to a snail pace and teach him a lesson — get him reciting all those patience proverbs he’s so keen on — but a bigger part of you melts and drips at the ecstasy pulsing through you. Speedy, deep rolls have you shaking, moaning his name like a worship. You’re irrationally convinced you might die if you even try to slow down, like losing the pleasure he’s coaxing out of you right now would be a fatal crash. 

Again, he gives you that teasing, devilish stares that tells you he’s well aware of the burning heat he causes you. His lips stretch up into a smirk, and he parts them to talk some more. You slap a hand over his mouth instead. “Shut it,” you warn. He laughs under your palm, too happy at your reaction. 

His tongue sticks out, licking your hand childishly, and you release him. “You only like my mouth for one thing,” he says, pouting at you. 

“Don’t give me ideas.” 

“Want to sit on it again, huh?” He teases, cocking his head. “Maybe when you’re done fucking me.” He licks his teeth. “Though I doubt you’ll have the energy to sit up then. I’ll have to lay you down and clean you all up. Would you like that, baby?” 

“Anything that doesn’t involve you talking.”

Matty hums, and you sense the danger in his tone. You’ve pushed him just a bit too far, and the low thrum of thrill resonates in your stomach. You hold your breath, sick apprehension bringing you sinful pleasure. 

“You’ve got a mouth on you today,” he says. “Should’ve filled it up before I gave you what you wanted. Wouldn’t have so much to say if you were drooling and crying for my cock.” You wonder if that’s exactly what he’ll do; pull you off by your hips and onto your knees for a lesson. 

Instead, his hand pinches your nipple, then snakes up your chest, your collarbone, spreading over your throat. You clench around him, lust flashing in your eyes, and he smiles at you. “My little slut,” he coos. “You’d let me do anything.” 

You rock on him furiously, humping his lap to get rid of that building pressure in your core. Your mouth hangs open, pathetic whimpers spilling out every time your clit rubs on his pelvis. “Yes, Daddy,” you say in that sweet tone he knows is nothing but trouble. 

“Touch your clit,” he orders, and you’ve got a hand flying between your thighs, swiping on the bundle of nerves with abandon. You mewl in his lap, fucking and rubbing until you’re dripping on him. When you’re halfway through a moan, pussy clenching around his cock, Matty presses into your neck. 

The moan dies in your throat, mouth hanging open as a rush of adrenaline spreads through you. Your head swarms with silence, a sort of calmness buzzing and tingling under your face, and you feel every thrust of his cock he pumps up into you like a true hit of ecstasy. You whine, suspended in the moment. 

“My pretty girl,” he whispers. You roll your eyes. “My girl.”

His fingers release your throat and the sudden breath of air buzzes through you. The world sharpens; you sense his cock, his skin under your palms, his hand still around your neck— like he owns you. Your cunt tightens at the idea, something pretty stringing up your spine. Pleasure intensifies, practically breathing with you, until your brain rushes with endorphins.

“There she is. So good for me now,” he says and your lips stretch up with a proud grin. You’re lazy on your bones, letting him rock you on his cock without a care. “You wouldn’t do this for anyone, would you?” 

You shake your head fervently. “Only you.” 

“That’s right,” he nods. “Only me.” He sneaks a thumb to your clit, pushing away your slack hand and working at it himself. “No fucking guy can make you feel like this.” 

“I know,” you whine, and there’s the faint heartbreak of it tugging at the back of your mind. Nothing tangible, just the knowledge of what you’ll spend the rest of your life mourning and missing once he’s gone. Once you’re gone.

He lets go of your neck, dropping it to your waist, and you whine at the loss. It quickly turns into a moan as he uses both hands to guide you on his length properly. A quick, hard tempo sets, shaking your legs with growing pleasure. You feel him in the deepest part of you, hitting again and again that sweet spot as he puppeteers your freely given hips. 

“God, Matty.”

He smirks. “That was redundant.” You roll your eyes, half from pleasure and half from annoyance. He chuckles at that, happily giving a deep stroke that has you purring for him, as though to prove his point. 

You hold your weight up with a hand beside his head, drooping into the mattress. You tilt your hips, angling yourself perfectly for his drilling cock. Your face breaks open with a moan, but you shake your head. You force your eyes open to take in his face; sweaty and flushed and overwhelmed with pleasure and work. You lick your lips. Pleasure swirls in your belly, tightening and tightening until you have to believe you’ve driven yourself mad. 

“Daddy,” you whine for him. Your free hand flies back to your thighs, rubbing at your clit until your lungs catch on fire. “Make me come,” you plea. “I need you. I need—” You press into your bud, groaning at the rush of ecstasy. 

Matty laughs and the mean sound only drives you further into lust. You grip the sheets, trying to catch on fire. “Thought you were gonna shag me,” he mocks. “Thought you were gonna get off all on your own.” He tsks, bucking into you wildly, sounding out of breath as he adds, “But you need Daddy to make you come, don’t you?” 

You shake your head, as if the evidence wasn’t dripping all over his cock, spilling from your lips in incoherent slurs. “No?” He says, again just as merciless in his taunting. He halts inside of you and you cry, shaking your head. “Do it, then,” he laughs. 

He raises his hands up your waist, dancing on the ribs. He gropes your tits, circling the nipples. It becomes apparent to you that he’s not joking. You pout, finding your balance again and rising to your knees, falling back with thunderous force. Your legs shake; you’re exhausted and sore, whiny as you obey him. 

“That’s it, princess,” he praises. It’s enough to spark some motivation. You furrow your eyebrows, bouncing on his cock, puffing breaths falling from your lips. Sweat pearls on your forehead, but you continue, undeterred. “God, you’re so fucking filthy.”

You mewl, redoubling efforts. You find something close to those quick, harsh thrusts Matty was giving, just slightly poorer. You fuck mindlessly, not bothering to rub your clit on his pelvis or find that delicious spot inside of you. Pleasure fills your mind anyway. 

“Doing so well,” he moans. His fingers play with your nipples; your head pulls back, crying out. “Use my cock. Ride it ‘till you come all over it.” You whine, nodding fervently. “Need to feel you again,” he pants. “Need to feel that cunt as it fucking squeezes me.” 

Ecstasy swarms through you. You moan, digging your claws into your sheets. You squeeze around him, over and over, a clear-tell warning. His name and a string of curses come out of your lips broken. He pinches your nipple. 

“I’m gonna—”

“Ask,” he groans, a choking sound that rips out of him. 

“Can I—” Your body trembles, the taste of climax spreading under your skin. You scrunch your face. “Daddy, please, can I—” You finish it with a moan, losing your train of thought.

“Use your big girl words,” he taunts, climbing one hand up. Your breath catches as he nears your neck; a swirling hit of excitement so true it makes you lightheaded. Still, he doesn’t linger, instead cupping your jaw and sticking his thumb in your mouth. 

Your hips are artless and loose, sliding and rolling and thrusting without any reason. It’s wild, brutal strokes that have you drooling around his finger. 

“C’mon, princess. I wanna hear you.”

He doesn’t slip his thumb out. You speak around his digit, drooling and slurring, incoherent. “Pleashe, pleashe, pleashe, Daddy, let me come. I want to come. I’ve been so good, I’ve— fuck, I’ve needed it for so long. Just—” You cry, shaking your head. “You’re so fucking deep in me.”

You take his hand away from your jaw, feeling spit drip down your chin as you spread it over your belly instead. “Fucking love you inside of me. Where you belong,” you moan. 

“Fuck, yeah.” He pushes on your stomach, making you feel his cock sliding into you. Your mind rolls inside your skull, drunk. “Made for this cunt.”

“Made to make me come.” He nods again eagerly. Your hips stutter, exhausted. “Please, then,” you say, hopeful. “Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplea—”

“Come for me, princess.”

“Ah—” You convulse, dropping on his chest, a scream drowning in his shoulder as your climax hits you in one drowning wave. Ecstasy sparks under your skill, overwhelming. 

Matty holds you in place with one soothing hand on your spine. Ruthlessly, he continues to fuck up into you, riding the end of your mindnumbing orgasm. “Fuck, I got you. Ride it out, princess. Ride it out on my cock. That’s it— Shit, I can fucking feel you.” 

Your fingertips buzz pleasantly, and there’s the distant shape of his words in your ear. You grin, loose and happy, heart filling up with his name. “D’you feel good?” He asks, kissing your cheek. You nod, humming. “Yeah? Came so hard for me?”

“Yeah.” You moan, his cock still thrusting inside of you slowly, waking you up again. Your legs shake. You tilt your hips slowly, ever so slightly rolling them. Matty grins against your cheek, kissing it again and again. 

He caresses your back, soothing away all those leftover shivers. “So fucking pretty when you come,” he promises. “The best girl. My best girl.” He grips your back, choking out, “Can you turn around for me?” 

You whine, tired, but still straighten up on his lap. You hoist up with great efforts, turning around with shaky knees. He coos some congratulations, hooking an arm around your belly and laying you back up on his chest. You practically melt on it, back against his stomach, head tucked in the crook of his neck. Each thigh hangs from his knees and he spreads you wide open for him again. 

“Don’t have to do anything, baby,” he breathes out, snaking a hand down your body to grab his still hard cock. “Let Daddy take care of you.” You groan, nodding in agreement. He likes himself up with your dripping entrance, then slides into you. 

He allows you a single slow thrust to get used to the stretch again, then wastes no time mercilessly ramming inside of you. You grip the arm around your waist, digging your nails into his tattoos, barely holding on from the brutal pace between your thighs. You mumble a strange mix of his name and the word Daddy, blurring out of you with all those pathetic sounds you shamelessly let out. 

You can tell he’s close too, chasing his pleasure with abandon, practically using you to get off. The knowledge makes burning heat spread through your lower belly. You throb around him, wanting him to come, to fill you up. Wanting him to feel as good as he makes you. 

Matty smirks against your cheek. “Oh, are you gonna come again?” His hips snap quickly, taunting. You stutter a response, biting down a scream. “What’s that? Can’t hear you when you mumble.”

“Shit,” is all you manage to say, already feeling pleasure grow inside of you again. He’s delighted to find this, grabbing a pebbled breast and playing with it. “I— Fucking, I’m—”

He hums, licking your neck. “Does Daddy’s cock make you forget how to speak?” You tremble in his arms, hot shame filling up your mind, a strange, sinful heat that has you yelling out absurdities. Matty’s relentless between your thighs, knowing exactly how to prove his point. 

His knees fall further on the bed, spreading your thighs wide open for him. He snakes a hand to your clit, rubbing at it with his palm. You jump in his arms, shaking your head. “Can’t—” It’s too much, too soon. You feel the edges of you unspool, unwind. 

“Can’t what?” He teases, merciless. “Can’t think? It’s okay, baby. Just lay there and take it. I’ll do the rest.” 

You practically buzz, incapable of taking in the pleasure that he’s already fucking and rubbing some more out of you. You choke, giving him some empty pleas, unsure of what exactly you’re even asking for.

“My dumb little slut,” he coos, kissing your cheek. “Fucked all stupid, as she should be.”

He dips his head in your neck, nipping and licking at the skin, peppering it with sweet love. It drowns your mind, makes it sticky and happy. You claw at his arm, desperate. 

Matty’s legs shake under you. You know he’s growing tired too, ready to burst anytime. The knowledge pokes at your mind, hot and eager. You grind on his palm. 

“Come in me,” you beg. You’ve completely relinquished the control of your tongue. “I’m on the pill now. Please.” Matty twitches inside of you. 

“Fuck,” he groans in your neck, choked. “That right? Got on the pill specifically for me?”

You did, searching up doctors and prescriptions, belly humming with the idea of him not pulling out this time. “Yes.”

His hand leaves your breast, climbing up to your neck. You throb around him, reveling in his presence around your throat, the silent mark that he owns you. “Needed me to fill you up that fucking bad? To have my cum dripping out of you.” 

“Yes,” you scream, wrinkling your face. 

“Gonna come for me first, though, right? Be my good little girl and come.” Though the words trigger something in you, you shake your head stubbornly. You’re almost afraid of letting go, as though the building euphoria inside of you could crush you to death, could blow your skin off your bones. It’s safer here, just on the edge of the fatal. 

His cock slams into you and his hand presses into your clit, driving you wilder and wilder. You choke a scream, feeling your limbs tighten in apprehension. You’re there, just there, and still you refuse. 

All the sensations are too much. You call his name, the only word you seem to know. Pressure presses against your skin, threatening to burst. You feel yourself begin to cry. 

Matty shushes you soothingly. “Oh, princess,” he says, kissing away your tears. “Shhh. It’s okay. I’m right there. I’ll catch you.” 

You pout, shaking your head, sobbing from pleasure. It’s a useless fight; Matty presses into the sides of your throat and suddenly the world catches on fire. You’re flying into orbit, imploding with ecstasy, screaming his name and all the curse words you know in worship. 

“Did so well,” Matty screams. “Fuck. Look at you coming all over my cock. What a good girl.” He releases your neck just when you come down from your high, shooting you up in another rush of pleasure. You moan, melting on him. “Gonna fill you up, now,” he warns. His words sound desperate, stretched thin. “Gonna come so deep inside of you, you’ll feel me for days. D’you want that?” 

“Yes!” 

His hips stutter. He twitches inside of you. “Say it— Shit.”

“Fill me up, Daddy!” 

“Ah, fucking hell—” He comes inside of you with a cry of your name, shaking under you. He groans, shaking, washed with pleasure. He continues fucking into you mindlessly, slower and slower, until he’s stopped, panting. His hold on you is murderous; it’s like he’s afraid you’ll slip away from him in his most vulnerable state. 

You watch him, observe his solemn face as he lingers in ecstasy, eyes shut and smile wide. Your chest warms, a grin teasing your own lips. Sweat and tears and drool dries on your face.

Matty softens inside of you. His cock slips out, cum spilling out of you. You moan at the feeling, getting on your elbows to watch the spectacle. Still laying down and catching his breath, Matty plunges two fingers inside of you, pushing his cum back in your cunt just so you can watch it fall again. You shiver, falling back on him with a sigh. 

“God,” he says. “I’m too old to fuck in twin beds.” You laugh in surprise and he snickers with you, his chest drumming against you. “You’re rich. Why don’t you have a king sized bed and feather pillows or some shit?” 

“I’m sensible,” you say, sticking your tongue out. You roll to your belly beside him, finally letting him take a full breath. He stretches on your mattress, taking up almost all the space. It’s a little ridiculous, this man in your childhood bed. 

You smirk, traveling down his chest and stopping near his soft cock. You lick the length, sucking him into your mouth to clean the mix of your wetness and his cum. He jumps, sitting up to push you anyway. “Fucking— Do you want to kill me?”

You laugh, falling back on the pillows, cheeky. “See? Not so easy.” 

“Well, you’re young and healthy. I expect more of you.” Matty opens his arm, inviting you to tuck your head in his shoulder. Your arm drapes over his chest, halfway across his tattoo. “When’s your dad gonna be back?” He yawns.

“I don’t know,” you admit. It’s always up in the air; often, you don’t know he even came back until you wake up to the strong smell of Ethiopian coffee and the ghost of him in the flat. You shrug, “You could always sneak out if he’s there in the morning.”

Matty rubs his face. “Ugh, I feel like a teenager.” 

You rest your chin on his shoulder, teasing, “Shouldn’t fuck such a young, innocent girl, then.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Innocent? You’ve seen the things you’ve done on my dick?”

“Shut up.” Quieter, you mumble, “I don’t think Mr. Snuffles’s ever gonna be able to unhear tonight.” His laughs rocks you, resonating against you. You grin on his skin. 

You nuzzle further into his warmth, exhaustion settling in your bones. His arm warms your waist, pulling you further into him. You know you need to clean yourself up soon, but you allow yourself a short moment to relish the shape of him. 

He tugs you out of sleep by piping up, voice sticky-tired, “If you want, I know the best fucking scallop place in town. We could go tomorrow.”

Halfway asleep, you say, “I’d like that.”

[forcryingoutlloud]

Greedy

or ‘beg for it’ pt 2

warnings: smut (18+ minors dni!), cursing, slight bondage?, degradation, slapping, spitting, masturbation (m), cumplay, unprotected p in v, fingering, dom matty

a/n: it’s quite a long one so buckle up! i feel slightly ashamed that my brain came up with this but oh well. enjoy!

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

“please- fuck!” she sobbed out, utterly exhausted as she tried to close her legs to stop the torture. he tutted at her, turning off the vibrator that he had placed on her clit and moving off the bed.

her head whipped up and looked at him, his back muscles tensing as he rooted around for something in the bottom of the wardrobe. “w-what are you doing?”

he turned back to face her with a smirk, holding a pair of silk ties in his hands. she gulped and his smirk widened as he took slow, deliberate steps towards her on the bed.

“what was the one thing i told you to do before we started?” he raised an eyebrow at her and she took a few deep breaths before whimpering.

“keep my legs open.” she pouted and looked down, not able to stomach the fact that she had disappointed him. he grabbed her chin between his fingers and brought her gaze back to him.

he frowned at her and cocked his head to the side. “and what did you do?”

“i closed my legs,” she mumbled, tears brimming her eyes. she was deeply submissive at this point, all the orgasms he had given her had wiped her head of every thought that had nothing to do with him.

“yeah,” he hummed. he brought his hand down her body, brushing past her nipple and ghosting down her core, before grasping her ankles. “now i have to tie them apart since you can’t do as your told, stupid little slut.”

he tied each of her legs to the posts at the end of the bed, and she felt exposed under his hungry gaze.

his eyes darkened at the sight of her all spread out for him to use however he pleased. he took a deep breath and snuck a hand under his boxers to palm himself, giving him some relief. he closed his eyes in pleasure and tipped his head back, until she let out an utterly desperate moan.

he brought his eyes back to her face and cocked an eyebrow, “something wrong sweetheart?”

his eyes ran over her body, not quite sure where to focus on. her eyes that were filled with tears, her heaving chest and hardened nipples or her core that was all puffy and swollen from his actions in the last hour.

she whimpered again and he brought a hand down to harshly slap her thigh. “words, brat.”

she blinked a few times, trying to make sense of the words in her brain before she even attempted to speak them.

“want you to t-touch me,” she gazed up at him through doe eyes and fluttered her lashes, “please daddy?”

he scoffed and took his hand out of his boxers, placing them on each of her thighs and sliding them up to her hips so he was leaning over her.

“such a greedy little slut,” he clenched his jaw and brought his fingers down to lazily rub at her clit. the pornographic-like moan she let out at the contact brought a slight smirk to his face. “i’ve given you, what, 6 orgasms and you still want more? desperate little whore.”

she whined and writhed against the sheets, pulling against the ties, just wanting to touch him. “want you to fuck me, please!”

“aw little princess wants me to fuck her?” he shook his head at her and moved off the bed to take his boxers off. his cock was rock hard and leaking precum and she let out a garbled moan at the sight of it.

“well that’s too bad princess,” he pressed kisses up her body, quickly sucking a nipple in his mouth, continuing his pecks before he stopped right next to her ear. “you don’t deserve it.”

she whined, displeased with his words but stopped when he placed a firm slap on her face. “enough of the whining, you don’t deserve it and you know i’m right. not after the little stunt you pulled.”

he clenched his jaw and she sighed, knowing he was right, but that didn’t mean she had to be happy about it.

“now, you’re going to lay there and watch me, and if you move an inch or make the slightest noise, i’ll get myself off and leave you there wet, needy and pathetic until you’ve learnt your lesson, understand?”

she had to fight the urge to whine at the thought of him pleasuring himself and not being able to help, but she knew the reward afterwards for being good was far more worth it. reluctantly, she nodded.

“words sweet girl.”

“i understand, sir.”

he smiled at her and pecked her lips lightly, “good girl.”

the sweet act was gone as quickly as it appeared. his face hardened and he sat on his knees beside her, giving her a good view of the show he was going to put on. he wrapped a hand around his cock and sighed at the feeling. it didn’t feel as good as it would’ve if it was her pussy, but she didn’t need to know that.

“fuck..” he groaned as his hand ran over his tip, collecting the precum and spreading it around his cock. he stroked himself in short, quick motions, desperate to reach his orgasm. he felt he had been teased enough after her relentless edging, and the sight of her cumming more times than he can remember brought him a lot closer to the edge than he cares to admit.

he brought his bottom lip between his teeth as he tugged at his cock, throwing his head back in bliss. “shit, ‘s so good, fuck!”

she, on the other hand, was not having a good time. she had to bite her lip so hard she could now taste blood so she wouldn’t make a noise, while ignoring every instinct she had to try and reach out and touch him.

his movements quickened when he opened his eyes to look at her, smirking at her glassy eyes and pouting lips.

“oh sweet girl,” he mocked her, pouting condescendingly before being cut off by a moan at the feeling of his rapidly approaching orgasm. “i’m gonna paint that pretty face in my cum, shit-.”

despite her efforts, she whined at the thought of being covered in his cum like some sort of erotic masterpiece, and felt a rush of arousal through her core.

he smirked at the noise. “yeah, want me to cover you in my cum? course you do, just a dumb little fucktoy for me to use as i please, isn’t that right baby?”

she nodded furiously, opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out, awaiting his release.

he groaned and let his saliva drop from his mouth into hers, groaning at the look in her eyes. “hold it for me baby, don’t swallow.”

she whined and furrowed her eyebrows, but relaxed when he angled his cock at her face, cursing under his breath. “fuck gonna cum- fuck fuck fuckkk!”

his orgasm hit and he came in white spurts, hitting her chest, her face and some getting in her mouth. he took a few deep breaths to calm himself before scooping some of his cum off her tits with his fingers and pushing them in her mouth.

“suck.” she sucked his fingers diligently, moaning as she did so. he pulled his fingers from her mouth and wrapped a hand around her jaw. “swallow.”

she swallowed obediently, mewling at the taste. he groaned and crashed his lips onto hers, shoving his tongue into her mouth. he pulled away from her and positioned himself over her, lining his still hard cock at the opening of her pussy.

she whined and looked up at him with wide eyes, silently begging him to fuck her. he smirked and slammed into her, giving her no time to adjust to his size.

she screamed at the intrusion, pulling at the ties around her wrists and whining when she realized she still couldn’t touch him. “please sir, w-wanna touch you, fuck!-.” he smirked down at her and brought his fingers down to her clit and rubbed in rhythmic circles.

“i know you do princess,” he pouted at her mockingly. “cum for me and then i’ll untie your wrists.”

she whimpered, but cumming for him wasn’t gonna be an issue. she’d been close to release since he started touching himself, and the way he was fucking her now was going to push her over the edge in no time.

the coil began to form in her stomach and she moaned, her muscles clenching around him.

“fuck, you’re so tight- you gonna cum for me sweet girl? yeah, drench my cock baby, such a little slut for me-.”

she’s not sure what it was that threw her over the edge; if it was his dirty words, the way his cock was slamming into her repeatedly, or a combination of everything, but her orgasm crashed into her.

she arched her back and screamed, chanting his name over and over again repeatedly.

her legs twitched in the aftershocks of her orgasm, but his thrusts never stopped.

“my good girl, fuck- made such a mess, dirty little slut-,” he reached up and untied her wrists, and she wasted no time wrapping them around his shoulders and digging her nails into his back, leaving red scratches in her wake.

“fuck matty-,” she closed her eyes and threw her head back, slowly starting to be overstimulated.

she looked up at him, in a way that she hoped came off as seductive, and whimpered in his ear. “want you to cum for me daddy, please. i’ve been so good, wan’ you to fill up my pussy.”

he groaned at her words and his hips stuttered, but he quickly regained his composure.

“yeah? this slutty little cunt is just begging to be filled huh? no matter how many orgasms i give you, you’ll never be happy until you’re dripping with my cum will you? shit!”

his cock twitched inside her and she clenched her walls around him as best as she could, and he came with a cry of her name. he thrust into her a few more times before his cock softened, slowly pulling out of her.

his eyes snapped down to her core, where a stream of white liquid was slowly pouring out of her. he stifled a groan and pushed it back into her with two fingers, causing her to whine at the overstimulation. he looked up and cooed at her, slowing his fingers but not removing them.

“i know sweet girl, just have to make sure it stays where it belongs, we can’t have any going to waste can we?”

she pouted, but nodded, sure that she would agree to anything he said in this state. his thumb accidentally rubbed her clit and she hissed, her eyes filling with tears and he withdrew his fingers.

“oh i’m sorry baby, ‘s too much is it?”

he stuck his fingers in her mouth and she sucked, moaning at the taste and he smiled at her.

“such a good girl, did so well for me.”

[underthenightskydreamsneverdie]

Carnal, chapter four

Summary: Mattheo Riddle can’t stop thinking about Daisy Waters, the pair admit their longing for each other, and she gives him an assignment

Warnings: 18+, mentions of sex, mentions of masturbation, Idiots in love, use of many pet names, a touch of dom!Matty

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x f!OC Daisy Waters

Word count: 2383

A/N: I had so much fun writing this chapter, I hope you guys like it. Also a reminder that they start school at a later age in this fic making them both at least 16 in this chapter.

Divider credit to @enchanthings

Chapter one Chapter two Chapter three

Character mood board Chapter two mood board Chapter three mood board Chapter four mood board

(I've been having trouble with links lately, if these links don't work please let me know.)

Taglist: @sylviaonyx , @helendeath , @secret-sophieee , @evaslytherpuff , @hotcinnam0nspicy

The first week of school had passed far too quickly for Mattheos liking, something he never expected to think about school. With Daisy by his side the days seemed shorter, never giving him enough time with her. Even with everything going on at Hogwarts this year, the Triwizard Tournament, all the extra students filling the castle, she was still the only thing he thought about, the only one he saw.

Sitting together in the Great Hall watching as older students dropped their name into the Goblet of Fire he had something more specific on his mind. Her lips. They had shared a few soft kisses since the train ride but Mattheo was ready for more, ready to show a little bit of his desperation, his hunger for her. Tearing off a piece of paper from his notebook he wrote her a note. 

Can’t stop thinking about kissing you.

He dropped it on her open book, watching as she smiled sweetly. He was quickly learning that she was good at covering her emotions with a pretty smile while in public but she would let her guard down when they were alone. She’s such a mystery but I’ll figure her out one day, he thought to himself, chuckling as she pulled the pen from his hand, turning her body away from him as she scribbled a response. Standing, she closed her book and slipped the note into the pocket of his shirt, brushing her fingers over his cheek as she walked towards the exit. Moaning at her flirty touches he fished the note out, groaning as read her words. 

Then do something about it…

Gods this girl is going to be the death of me. 

Closing his notebook he raced after her, grabbing her hand when he caught up, leading her into an empty corridor. He wanted to pick her up, roughly press her against the wall, and kiss her until their lips bleed, but still trying to take things slow, he stopped and let her make the first move. 

She surprised him, leaning in and sniffing him, closing her eyes and moaning. What the fuck? Did she just sniff me? 

“Like the way I smell, do you?” He chuckled, not sure what to make of this but feeling himself getting excited nonetheless. If that’s what does it for her…

“You have no idea, Mattheo. No idea.” 

The undertone of lust in her voice made his cock ache and he bit back a moan, stepping closer to her, slipping an arm around her waist. “You’re an odd girl, Daisy. I like that.” Squeezing her tight to him, he kissed her passionately, making his hunger for her, all of her, known. 

“I’m so glad you do, Mattheo.” She whispered against his lips, nuzzling her nose against his cheek, something she did a lot during their time together. The first few times he thought it was a little weird but now he loved it, longed for those little moments, never wanted to go without them, they made him feel like she was gently staking her claim on him. 

“Tell me something. Anything. What’s on your mind, pretty girl? I want to know every thought.” While he waited for her to respond, why is it taking her so long, he covered her face in kisses, her little giggles making his heart flutter. “Having trouble deciding what to say? Or do I just take your breath away?” He meant it jokingly but looking down at her he realized he may not have been far off, her face reflecting the confusion of his own feelings for her. “What is it, baby, what’s wrong?” 

“I don’t know how I feel about my feelings,” she sighed, burying her head in his neck. “I’m so into you, Matty,” Matty? Oh I like that. “I’ve wanted you for so long but now that it’s happening I'm torn… I’m falling for you so damn quickly, everything I feel is so intense…” Is she reading my mind right now? 

“You’re not torn about being with me, right?” He didn’t care if he sounded insecure, not with her, he didn’t even think there was a possibility that was the reason, but he had to be sure. 

She whipped her head up so fast he heard her neck crack, a stunned look on her face. “What? Fuck no!” 

He’d never heard her curse before and the vehemence with which she did, shoving aside his idiotic thought, turned him on like nothing ever had. Growling, he picked her up and pinned her against the wall. “You feel torn between taking things slow because this feels so fucking right and you’re afraid of messing it up versus ripping our clothes off and not leaving my bed for days? Something like that?” 

The look in her eyes, like she would die if they didn’t figure out how to do both, told him everything his heart needed, her whimper of agreement and her fingers tangling in his hair didn’t hurt either. “Thank Merlin, I thought I was going crazy.” He chuckled, kissing her again, relieved he wasn’t the only one feeling this way. “What do we do about it, pretty girl, cause I gotta do something, need to make you mine one way or another.” 

“We let down our walls, share our secrets, we trust, we…love. I want to show you who I am, Matty, and there’s so much to share, so much I keep hidden…but I need to know you’re willing to do the same for me, know I’m safe giving you my heart.” 

“You are, Daisy, I swear, so fucking safe with me. Gods, my walls crumbled the moment you told me your name, the same moment I fell for you.” He stopped, feeling his face flush with this confession, knowing it was too soon to admit, but he didn’t care. He loved her already, beyond all reason, and even though it terrified him he wouldn’t want it any other way. “Trust me with your heart, help me learn to trust you with mine.” He pressed his forehead against hers knowing she could feel the things he didn’t know how to say. Words had never been his strong suit but he would find a way to show her what she already meant to him and that he couldn’t wait to see their relationship grow.

Daisy was good with words, he knew this, but many times she chose to stay quiet using soft touches and expressions to make her feelings known. He wasn’t surprised when she nuzzled against his cheek and pressed soft kisses to his face, making him sigh happily. 

“I trust you, Mattheo,” her breath fanned across his lips as she whispered, “more than logic tells me I should, more than I’ve trusted in a long time. I know trust is hard work, let’s take it day by day, yeah?” 

“Day by day…” He agreed, trying to ignore how worked up the feel of her breath was getting him. You’re in the middle of a tender moment, don’t bring your cock into it. 

She must have seen how hard he was struggling, is she struggling right now, too?, because she pressed her lips to his in a hungry kiss. “Annnnd we slowly work our way up to ravishing each other for days on end.” A blush spread over her cheeks, the cutest thing he had ever seen, and she giggled, hiding her face in his neck. 

He groaned, his cock twitching, hardening. Fuuuck yes! Sliding a hand into her hair he gently pulled, lifting her head. “Don’t hide that pretty face from me. I love the way you blush when you talk about naughty things. Say a few more for me. You really want me to ravish you, princess?” 

She moaned, locking eyes with him, her body shivering as he called her “princess”. Guess that one’s a keeper. My pretty little princess. “Want it? Oh, Mattheo, after the summer I’ve had, wanting you twenty four hours a day, I’m ready to demand it.” She pressed her forehead against his, gritting her teeth and growling softly. “I want to devour you.” 

He didn’t even know what to say, all he could focus on was his cock straining in his pants, begging to be free, to feel her. He groaned desperately and bucked his hips in an attempt to rub against her, getting frustrated when he couldn’t get good friction. “Let go, Daisy, I need to set you down, need to feel you against me.” He gently set her down barely letting her feet touch the ground before forcing her legs apart, hands gripping her hips, and grinding his aching cock against her thigh. 

“What was that about wanting me twenty four hours a day, princess? Is this what you imagined? Did you touch yourself to thoughts of me?” His voice was low with desire, desperate to know if she had done what he had forced himself not to and given in to her lust. Please say you did, baby. Please please please. 

A sweet whimper left her lips as she nodded, looking up at him with her deceptively innocent eyes. “More than I thought possible, so much more…was never enough, needed you…” The way she spoke made it clear that she was getting lost in those thoughts again, her lust clouding her mind, taking over. She gripped his hand, guiding it to her thigh, lifting her leg. He got the hint immediately and slipped his arm under her thigh, spreading her legs open further, giving him full access to her. What he wouldn’t give to pull his cock out and rub it against her folds. Why didn’t I take her back to my dorm? 

“You naughty thing…here I was all summer trying my hardest not to get off to thoughts of you, not wanting to disrespect you. Do you have any idea how difficult that was for me? You’re so fucking perfect, I was desperate for you, Daisy.” Spoken right against her mouth his words came out in hot heavy breaths, he couldn’t hold back his need any longer. “I haven’t cum in months and you’re going to help me fix that. Now.”  He let go of her leg, intending to drag her to his dorm, when a cold voice echoed through the corridor. 

“Mr. Riddle. What are you doing here…ah, Miss Waters.” 

Mattheo froze, groaning with frustration. Snape. Go away, we’re busy. 

He looked down at Daisy, who had frozen in place as soon as her foot touched the ground again, loving the irritated look on her face. He wanted to kiss it right off her face. Hold on, is she growling? The faintest rumble reached his ears, her body the only place it could be coming from.

“Mr. Riddle, go to your dorm. If you’re not there in ten minutes I will inform the headmaster of what I saw here. Miss Waters, I will be informing Professor Sprout so that she may keep an eye on you. Get to your house.” With one final glare Snape turned on his heel, robe billowing out behind him. 

“Fuck. I’m sorry princess, I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” Mattheo leaned in and kissed her as soon as Snape was gone, desperate to have just a few more seconds alone with her. “Let’s get you to your dorm, pretty girl.” He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close as they walked. 

“Don’t worry, Sprout has different views than Snape on two kids making out in a hallway. She’s rather easy going.” She paused for a minute, her face blank as they reached the Hufflepuff house entrance. “How on earth did you manage to hold off, Matty? I felt like I would burst if I didn’t…please myself at least once a day.” 

He felt a blush creep up his neck knowing she had caught him. Do I admit I drew her multiple times a day? Sounds a bit creepy, but if she could confess to touching herself to fantasies about me… “I sketched you. A lot. A lot.” 

She gasped, her eyes lighting up, a grin spreading over her cheeks. “You did not!” She playfully smacked her hand against his chest, giggling. 

“I most certainly did, pretty girl. I’ll show you…if you ask nicely.” He teased her, kissing her neck softly. 

“Oh you want your princess to beg, Matty? I could do that, but you’d never be the same.” She teased right back, her smile turning into a smirk. Fuck. 

“Merlin, you look so good with that little smirk, my naughty girl. So fucking good. Now that you mention it, I do want you to beg. Beg me, Daisy.” He pressed her tighter to him, his lust for her spiking again. 

His stomach flipped, his knees going a little weak as her pretty eyes went wide, a little pout on her perfect lips. “Please, Matty, show me your sketches.” 

He groaned, a broken, needy sound, gripping her chin so she couldn’t look away. “So fucking good for me. How could I ever deny you, pretty girl. I’d do anything for you. All you have to do is ask.” 

She didn’t blush the way he had expected, instead her eyes sparkled mischievously and she smirked at him. “Is that so? Anything at all?” 

“Mhmm.” He nodded, kissing her lips softly, completely lost in her. What are you planning, little one? “What exactly did you have in mind?” 

“Spend the day with me tomorrow.” 

It was such a simple request, he couldn’t help but laugh. “Daisy, I was going to do that anyway-“ She cut him off, her fingers pressed against his lips. 

“I wasn’t done…there’s one more thing I want you to do. I want you to give in. Go get in your bed and think about me. Cum for me, Mattheo.” 

It wasn’t a suggestion, she was demanding this of him and it drove him insane with need for her. “Fuck, princess.” They were the only words he could manage, his mind already swimming with his favorite fantasies about her. 

She giggled, kissing him softly before pulling away. “Goodnight, Matty. Sweet dreams.” 

“Goodnight, pretty girl.” I love you. He watched her disappear into the entrance of the Hufflepuff common room before turning and running to his dorm, eager to obey her.

[crissiebaby]

Million Diaper Baby: Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: This story contains diaper usage, humiliation, domination, sissification, chastity, masturbation/diaper sex, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

Commissioned By: Gun1242

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*THUMP! THUMP-THUMP!*

Holding up a pair of punching mitts, Matthew did his best to ignore his overtly feminine attire while serving as Amy’s dutiful sparring partner. His pink dress, made of lace and taffeta, severely contrasted the target gloves and protective headgear, the latter of which he was thankful to hide his blushy face behind. If only he could say the same for his regulation boxing diaper, which was on prominent display beneath the hem of his short, frilly outfit. The noisy article was even more obnoxious than usual without a pair of gym shorts to dampen the sound. Adding to his distress was the wet itch of makeup that saturated his sweaty face. He was lucky Amy used waterproof products so it wasn’t running into his eyes, though that also meant his face stayed “pretty” throughout the entire day. And to think, this was only day one of seven. Amy’s punches were certainly fierce but no impact would ever land as fatal a blow as the one she delivered to his ego.

Meanwhile, Amy was having the time of her life squaring up against her sissified bestie. It wasn’t that she felt zero guilt for what she was doing to Matthew and his image around the gym. It was merely that the guilty part of herself was greatly overshadowed by how amusingly cathartic it all was. Every day since she was old enough to train alongside Matthew, she’d been reminded time and time again that she would never measure up to him, or any other guy for that matter. If only those same naysayers could see her now.

*DING! DING!*

“Fighters! Trade out!” announced the gym’s manager, clearing the rings to allow the next set of boxers to spar.

Relaxing his stance, Matthew made a beeline for the ropes. Never before had he been so happy to hear the final bell toll. It had been a grueling twelve hours of back-and-forth workouts, brawling, and waiting on Amy's hand and foot, the latter of which was by far the most energy-draining. Still, regardless of what Amy had planned for the six days he had left on his sentence, the first was officially in the books.

“Ahem!”

Matthew began stepping between the ropes, only to pause at the sound of Amy’s grating voice. “Well? Aren’t you going to hold those open for me?” she said, gesturing at the ropes in his hands.

Ignoring the ardent jeers being lobbed at him from anyone in earshot, Matthew glared at Amy as he stepped aside and stretched the ropes wide enough for Her Highness to step through. No matter how hard he tried not to let these little moments get to him, it was the condescending tone she used when ordering him around that truly got on his nerves. “Really milking this for everything it's worth, huh?” he said snidely, attempting to dampen whatever satisfaction Amy was getting from this.

“Oh, Matti-cakes, if you think this is milking it, you’ve got a big storm coming,” responded Amy as she squatted between the ropes. Midway through, she allowed her back foot to kick the rope out from under Matthew’s foot, dislodging it and causing the elastic to snap back to its original position, “Oops!”

*TWIP!*

“GAH!” grunted Matthew, forced to cling to the top rope as the middle one slammed against the base of his diaper. The padding did provide some level of protection but not enough to make it painless. His body slowly rag-dolled to the ground.

Covering her mouth and feigning innocence, Amy rushed to Matthew’s aid. “Youch! Sorry about that,” she said, patting his head in the least soothing way possible, “But hey, look at it this way. At least you know you’re still a guy under all this.” Her fingers teasingly picked at the frilly shoulders of his dress.

Swatting Amy’s doting hands away, Matthew attempted to sit up, only for Amy to immediately pull him back to the floor. “Ugh, c’mon,” he muttered, feebly pawing upward like a turtle on its back. The indentured servitude schtick was bad enough without literally being pushed around schoolyard bully style. Sadly, there was little he could do to fight back since his hands were tapped into thickly padded target gloves.

*CUP!*

Matthew gasped as Amy’s hand abruptly planted itself against the front of his diaper. “My Goddess! I’m shocked you’re not leaking with how soaked this thing is,” she stated loudly and proudly, acting as though she hadn’t refused to give Matthew a single bathroom break. Her cruel, greedy smile expanded as Matthew’s cock stiffened beneath her palm, “Ya know, Mama Amy would be happy to change her baby girl’s diapee. I bet my Matti-cakes would like that lots.” Her performative behavior quickly garnered attention from many of the gym’s attendees, and unlike before, the gymnasium was nearly at capacity.

Curling his arms around his head to mask how flustered he was, Matthew knew shoving Amy’s hand away would expose his boner to everyone gawking at the two of them. The last thing he needed was for anyone to believe he enjoyed Amy’s sissy baby treatment. Caught between a rock and a hard-on, he could do nothing but lie flat and pray that Amy would take pity on him for once.

Unfortunately, Amy had a million thoughts swirling around in her mind, and not a single one of them was merciful. “Roman, would you be so kind as to retrieve my duffle bag?” she said as she watched the gym revolve around her like clockwork, bending to whatever whim popped into her head next.

Lifting his arms from his face, Matthew’s heart skipped a beat as Amy’s heavy gym bag was plopped down next to his head. “What’s going-�� he said, silenced immediately by Amy’s pointer finger pressing into his lips. Amy had certainly had her fun up to this point but there was no way she was going to do something as depraved as changing his diaper in front of the entire gym…right? The answer to that question appeared to be a resounding yes as he watched her pull a soft, plastic rectangle out of her bag of goodies. He lunged forward in an attempt to get up only for Barry’s fat hand to plant itself against his chest, gluing him to the floor. He wasn’t going anywhere until Amy said so. “This is messed up, Amy!”

“Oh, hush. What’s a diaper change between friends?” said Amy, brushing aside Matthew’s well-justified concern as tore the tapes off his diaper one by one.

Matthew opened his mouth to protest only for a pacifier to invade his oral cavity, halting his speech. He gagged as his tongue lapped up whatever strawberry-flavored jelly seemed to be coated around the bulb, which was by far his least favorite flavor. 

“Quit your yapping. You freeball around the locker room without a care in the world. It’s nothing we haven’t seen already,” quipped Barry, referring to Matthew’s shamelessness when it came to locker room shower etiquette. He took joy in nudging the binky back into place anytime Matthew tried to spit it out.

Squirming in place, Matthew was helpless to do anything but avert his gaze as the front of his diaper was pulled open. “Dude! Haha! You’re not actually supposed to use your diaper!” “No fucking way! Is he hard?” “I think we’re gonna need a new Welterweight champ after this.” The mocking and opportunistic voices of his toughest competitors swarmed him, eating away at the last vestiges of his reputation as Amy proceeded to thoroughly wipe down the length of his diaper area.

“I hope you know that this would go a lot faster if you’d quit wiggling,” said Amy, playfully slapping at Matthew’s erection with a wet wipe before rubbing the length of it multiple times over. Her smirk was impermeable as she whisked away the droplet of precum that had formed at the tip.

For as miserable as Matthew was, it was hard to deny how euphoric Amy’s diligent fingers felt. His breathing became shaky and haggard as she mopped away the urine that had soaked into his crotch with a cool, soothing wipe. Gritting his teeth against the rubber pacifier, he opened his mind up to the dismally somber concepts of war, famine, pestilence, and death in hopes of easing back his saber from its battle-ready stance.

Thankfully, Amy didn’t hold on scrubbing Matthew's cock longer than necessary, her hands instead moving southward to continue cleaning. Using her free hand to grip both of his ankles together and hoist them high, she ran a second wipe down his grundle and in between his untouched booty cheeks. His adorable reaction to her teasing his little hole for a split second further fueled her inner sadist. It wasn’t her intention to awaken anything inside herself but sexual domination was something she could see herself delving more into. Armed with a kinky hypothesis to test, she returned to her duffle bag, curling her lips inward as she examined the vast array of fetish products gifted to her by CrissBaby in her welcome package.

With his legs back on the ground, Matthew prayed that his diaper change was nearing its end. However, he soon realized this would not be the case as he spotted Amy removing a pair of CrissBaby’s trademarked changing products from her bag: a half-used container of CrissBaby Infinity Powder, which was an adult baby powder designed for extending wearing, and a full bottle of CrissBaby Dreamy Cream, an aphrodisiac-infused diaper lotion.

Not that Matthew was familiar with either product. Typically, boxers simply utilize an odorless talcum powder to prevent chafing from their diaper. As such, he was oblivious to all the different lotions and powders involved with changing a literal baby. He wanted to refuse and ask for his usual powder but for some odd reason, he found it impossible to cease suckling on the pacifier between his lips. It was as if his anxiety jolted anytime his sucking slowed. What was Amy doing to him?!

*SQUISH!*

In an instant, Matthew’s resistant thoughts were vaporized as his stiffy was unceremoniously coated with a handful of creamy lotion. He had barely held it together when she came at him with the wet wipe. That pleasurably prickly sensation one feels before an orgasm radiated around his cock like a rapidly spreading wildfire, causing his hips to buck against Amy’s hand.

“Uh oh, I think someone’s starting to like having his diaper changed,” taunted Amy, leaving Matthew with blue balls as she shifted away from his penis after a few seconds. Men were known for possessing only a single load, and she didn’t want him wasting his just yet. Depositing another several squirts of lotion onto her fingertips, she again collected Matthew’s ankles and moved to lather him up from taint to tailbone.

Though, it was Matthew’s tailpipe that ended up seeing the most attention. In the midst of buttering up his rear crevasse, a cruel desire arose within Amy. It was his doleful yet huffy expression that did her in. She couldn’t get enough of that timid look in his eyes. She needed more. Bunching her index and middle fingers together, she swiftly and secretly jabbed at Matthew’s colon.

“WUHH?!” muttered Matthew from behind his pacifier as a shockwave of aching arousal laid waste to his weakened lower half. It was only momentary but the impression Amy’s digits whipped his already withered mental state up into a frenzy. Unbeknownst to him were the effects that the various CrissBaby products were having on his body, specifically the lotion, which lingered to stimulate his prostate even after Amy’s fingers had fully retreated. Tangled within a spider’s web of lustful prurience, he gasped with eyes as wide as dinner plates as he began adding to the amount of white cream in his diaper.

The crowd was once again launched into an uproar over Matthew’s mortifying bodily reaction. Each spurt of jizz elevated the volume of their incessant cackling. Not a soul among them held a shred of respect for Mr. 19 and 0 any longer.

“Whoopsie-daisy. Looks like someone had a little accident,” cooed Amy, twisting the knife further as she mopped up the lines of cum drizzled across Matthew’s lower tummy, “Good thing I have a solution that should nip your teensy problem in the bud.” The male chorus at Amy’s back cheered viciously as she plucked a small, pink chastity cage from her gym bag and waved it around for Matthew to see.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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[because-she-goes]

the truman show

warnings: this is my first time writing smut so please be gentle! anyways 18+, swearing, choking, vulgar language, dom!matty, biting, spitting, praise kink, voyeurism, male solo masturbation, oral (female receiving). Enjoy!

Itwas late. The room was humid, sticky and littered with bodies. Not an inch of space to move. Bass thumped over the speakers and the taste of shitty tequila rested on the tip of her tongue. Why did they have to bring her here, she was perfectly okay at home with her cat - infact she had planned to cozy up with some wine, take out chinese food and binge Love Island for the hundredth time. A true night in - bliss. The only issue was that it was her 28th birthday and her friends insisted on bringing her to a club to “let loose” as they said over the text thread the previous evening. She debated whether or not she could feasibly sneak out without them knowing - saying she had food poisoning or suddenly had to take Frankie out for her nightly stroll. Deciding on just going for a smoke break and sticking around, she maneuvered her way through the swarm of drunk people. She was nowhere near as drunk as her friends, let alone the people she was bumping into. Not liking the feeling of being blacked out and out of control.

Cold air cooling her as she opened the large door, she grabbed a pack of Newports from her clutch and the lighter her Mom had gotten her one year with her initial engraved on it in beautiful calligraphy. It is then, she notices the feeling of being watched. Fear crawling up her spine, she takes a shaky breath deciding to look around for the other presence looming over her.

She spots a figure in the shadowy alleyway not to far from her. It strolls towards her - like a lion stalking a gazelle careful to not move too quick and spook it away. The figure moves menacingly.

“Now, what is a pretty thing like you doing all out here alone in the cold, hmm?” A man’s voice reaches her ears. Still not able to make out a face, she is cemented in her spot. Paralyzed - she doesn’t know if it is in fear or a twisted curiosity to see what he looks like.

Salt and pepper curls are the first thing she notices. Then a jet black cashmere sweater revealing the inner portion of his collarbones and neck, stretching over his shoulders and biceps and then coming to a halt at his wrists. Scanning down his waist, she sees grey pinstripe pants and beaten loafers. All in all, he is easily, without contest the most alluring man she has ever seen.

Like a moth to a flame, she walks to him, meeting him in the middle. Remembering he asked her a question, she coughs and says “Its my birthday, 28 to be precise. My friends dragged me here.” She nervously explains, butterflies filling her belly and bottom lip pulled a little between her teeth - a nervous tick she’s had since elementary school apparently.

“Lovely. You look absolutely ravishing by the way.” He smirks, eyeing her slowly, making a point to stop at her lips. She was wearing whatever her friends decided to pick for her, choosing to pick her battles and go along with this whole charade. Her friends had found a leather jacket wrap dress hidden in the depths, tag still attached to the collar. It had fit her like a glove when they forced her to try it. Hair in a ponytail at the base of her neck, gold delicate jewelry sprinkled across her arms, collarbone and neck. “You look good enough to eat.” He remarks under his breath, taking the hem of the dress and rubbing it between his fingers - admiring her choice of fabric. “Afraid to say though I forgot a light, would you be kind enough Darling?” He asks, eyes burning into her soul, unflinching. Her skin feels like it is on fire, flames dancing up her neck and licking at her cheeks. She gives him the cold lighter, his thumb brushes over the engraving and he gives her another look.

“Y/N, my mum had it made for me last christmas.” She explains quickly.

“Beautiful. I’m Matty by the way, but you can call me Truman, baby.” He states, cigarette cherry illuminating his gorgeous features, leaving her breathless. With a puff, he hands back the lighter and occupies the spot in-front of her. Her thighs clench over the thought of him moaning her name.

“Now, love. Hows about we go back to mine after we finish our smoke, I have some wine and I can order a pizza if you’re hungry?” He suggests, trying to hide how desperate he is to wrap his hand around her pretty neck and make her squirm. He coughs, composing himself. If he lets his mind wander like that, they won’t even make it to his door.

“Okay, sure. I would just have to let my friends know that I left, I’ll text them now.” Pulling up the text thread, she types “mission get laid is a go.” and clicks send, hoping to god he didn’t see that. He did, smirking at how innocent she is - notifying her friends and ensuring they knew she was safe…. or at-least as safe as she can be while also being with him.

The pair make their way to his house, silent on the cab ride. His hand makes its way to her thighs and creeps up, hiking the hem of her skirt up higher and higher. He then feels it - the lace of her underwear. He breathes out, reeling himself in again. He’ll let loose once he’s got her to himself, for now he’ll just tease. Expert fingers dance along the edge of the delicate fabric, slowly but confidently. She mutters an “oh fuck” under her breath, hips relaxing forward towards the hand.

He then makes his way to the center of the fabric, feeling a damp spot. Oh jesus christ, could she get any better. He leans over and whispers just quiet enough for the driver to not hear, but loud enough for her ears to be consumed by his voice. “Now tell me, baby, who got you soaking through your panties hmmm? Wanna be a good girl for me, yeah? Oh thats it baby, keep it together angel then you’re all mine.” He taunts. She whimpers. His fingers now teasing her clit in tight circles above the fabric, lace adding a sensation she’s never felt before.

“Yes, gonna be your best girl, Truman.” Remembering the name he gave her at the club, he moans in her ear. Both of their hearts beating in sync. Her chest heaves, breathing shakily as she tries to not get so worked up by his tone and filthy mouth. “Good girl, almost home baby” He praises, pulling his hand away from the lace. His eyes alight with lust. She shivers at the loss of contact, now on a razor’s edge.

The driver finally pulls up Matty’s driveway and as soon as the car drives away, he pulls her into him. Giving the back of her dress a firm pat, her legs wrap around his waist. He gets the key in and unlocks the house smoothly. He kisses her messily, teeth gnashing at points. “Fuck baby, you’re so reactive, so eager. Want me baby?” His voice piercing her ears. She gives a quick nod. “No angel, wanna hear you say it. How do you want me baby?” He prompts, needing the sound of her innocent mouth speaking pure filth to hit him.

“Truman, I n-need you please. Don’t torture me baby, just wanna make you feel good. Wanna be so good for you, Truman.” She pleads into his neck. Walking up the steps and into the large main bedroom, he drops her onto the bed roughly. She props herself onto her shoulders, making certain her chest pushes out to him. Needing him everywhere.

“Music? Drink?” He directs towards her, walking to the record player and pouring himself a glass of brown liquor.

“Drink would be nice, wine?” Holding out her hands for a glass. He goes and gets the bottle he keeps for times like these. Leaving her for a moment, her breathing now settles. She can’t believe what she is doing. Letting a man she met not even 3 hours ago, take her home and tease her in the car on the way here. She blushes.

Coming back, he pours her the red wine in her glass and flicks the record player on - “Sunshine of your love” by Cream. Perfect, he thinks.

Standing in front of her, he downs his glass and places the cup on his bedside table. She downs her win with a grimace, placing the glass next to his. Hands moving toward his belt, he swiftly undoes the latch and zipper combo on the pants. Her mouth watering. She is in a trance at this point, he devilishly smirks. Pulling his pants off and throwing them in a corner, he starts to palm himself. “Like what ya see, honey? Want me to make you happy? Gonna be a good girl for me baby? So sweet giving me your lighter earlier. So innocent and cute. Soaking your pretty panties for me. Adorable.” He mocks her, now taking his dick out of his boxers and smearing the precum across himself, moaning her name softly. She drools. He spits roughly into his hand, her mind feels like TV static. His head throws back as he moans, hand pumping slowly over himself. “God, yeah thats it baby. Just like that, so good.” He moans, knowing he is being cruel to his guest and frankly not caring.

“Please let me touch you, baby. Need you so bad. Bet I’d feel better than your ha-“ She tries to tease back at him, but before the words can even leave her mouth his other hand grabs her by the throat and he looms over her darkly. “What the fuck did you say to me? I get to decide when to use you, doll. For now, you sit still like a good little slut for me, yeah?.” Releasing her, he spits on himself again and jerks quicker. More roughly, swearing with each pull. Her thighs squeeze and a whimper threatens to leave her throat. “Thats the fucking shit baby, oh what a good girl you are being so still for me. Like a goddamn statue you are. So fucking perfect and obedient. So sweet for me.” He praises, watching her squirm a little. She sits on her hands, trying to create any sort of friction she can. She may as well be dripping for him. “Gonna devour you baby, you wont even remember your name. All you’ll be able to say is Truman. What a cute little slut you’ll be moaning for me hmm?” She shivers once more, less this time not wanting to upset him. She notices he’s getting sloppier and faster with his hands, her mouth drops open, allowing him to cum in it if he so chooses. “Good girl, giving me your sweet mouth. So considerate fuck. So sweet baby. Fuck baby, ready?” He double checks. Nodding, he unloads down her tongue, she swallows cleanly, not a drop going to waste. She shows him, leaning down he kisses her and whispers a “good fucking girl swallowing me, baby” in her ear. He nips at her ear lobe and jaw as he comes back up, she melts.

“Been so patient for me, honey. Bet youve soaked all the way to the sheets by now. Tsk tsk tsk, im sorry honey. Gonna take care of you, okay?” He undoes her dress in a single motion, body revealing itself to him. The first thing he spots is her lacy pink thong, the second being the lack of bra. “So sweet, baby. Oh you look so perfect for me. Gonna be good for me? And how naughty of you, not wearing a bra baby… want all those men in that club to see your tits, princess?” He asks before kneeling before her. “No, sir. Only you, Truman. Only wanted you to see. Wanna be so good for you.” She mumbles to him.

“Awwe how cute are you when you’re flustered.” He says pulling the lace to the side and her hips closer to the edge of the bed. He rubs his hands op her calves then on her thighs, wrapping in ward pulling her legs apart. She is shimmering in front of him, truly appetizing in every way. He licks his lips, twisting his tongue around the outside of her and taking sudden swipes in towards her center. She yelps. Teasing her even more, he places kisses to her inner thighs and in a line from her clit all the way to her center. Her head is thrown into a dizzying spiral once he finally swipes across her. “Feels so good, Truman oh my god. Feels like heaven, baby.” He moans into her with delight, getting off on the fact that she’s enjoying this just as much as him.

“Tastes like watermelon candy baby, my god. So good for me, so perfect and sweet. All mine baby, all fucking mine.” He groans wickedly, biting her thighs. She moans, the praise making her more and more turned on with each sentence. She feels like she could explode. Tongue gliding across her beautifully, his curls popping out from her thighs. “Gonna cum baby, need to cum so bad.” She warns him. He stops abruptly.

Taking a lap around the room, catching his breath. “You only cum when I say you can, got it!” His eyes like wildfires now staring at her heaving body. He demands, voice booming around the house. “Yes, sir. Yes, Truman.” She obeys. Following his every command like gospel. She thinks she would kill for him if he asked her. Be the Bonnie to his Clyde. Her eyes swimming with want, hunger and lust.

“Atta fucking girl!” He pounces back to her, giving her throat one more tight squeeze before resuming the oral like he never stopped. A lightning bolt goes through her at the sudden restart. Her legs shake, his hands grabbing them tighter, holding them still. One hand droops over the thigh to her clit and teases as he continues to eat her alive. Somehow, she feels the pleasure increase 100 fold. “Good girl, baby, knew you’d love that pretty clit getting some attention.” He says into her thigh. The other hand reaches to her chest and meanly twists her nipple, she screams. He smirks into her, finally getting the sound he has been awaiting all night. “So fucking responsive, so good baby. Close yet?” He checks.

She nods then realizes he can’t see her. “Yes, Truman! So fucking close for you, wanna come all over your tongue! God this feels so fucking good!!” She screams quickly, pleasure starting to burn at her insides. Threatening to come undone he feels her clench around his touch and clit twitch under his fingers. “Cum for me baby. Be Truman’s good fucking girl and come all over my tongue, angel. So fucking filthy and perfect for me baby. I fucking love hearing you.” He steadies her legs as she tries to clamp on his head. She wales. Her wetness covering his face with a magnificent sheen. “So fucking good, baby.”

He mutters one final time before standing up and walking to his bathroom. Grabbing wipes and filling his empty glass with some water, he cleans her up and has her drink. Wiping his own face with a wipe and cleaning his hands he comforts her noticing she had gone quiet and shy. “Good job baby, so perfect for me. I had such a nice time. You sound so pretty for me. Want a bath or have a cuddle and go to bed hmm?” He asks, kneeling in-front of her again, eyes now soft and warm. No trace of the man who was grabbing her throat and yelling a few moments ago. She decides on a nice long bath to unwind, he orders some pizza for delivery while she bathes figuring she didn’t eat at the club. They spend the rest of the night, kissing and talking about their lives. Whispering sweet nothings to each other. Wrapped in sheets, comfortably. A complete opposite picture to the two people leaving the club earlier that night. Before she falls asleep in his wonderfully soft bed, she hears him whisper a “Happy Birthday, Baby.” and he kisses her forehead.

[the1975attheirverybest]

Following on from anons porn question. I think they'd watch it before sex, maybe Matty would show her something and be like "would you want to try this". I can't imagine them actually watching it and masturbating together infront of it, but maybe that's just because I would always be too shy to do that no matter how long I'd been with my partner 😂

Maybe Matty would come into the bedroom one time whilst you're watching porn and when he comes in you get all embarrassed and quickly put your phone under the pillow. He's like "umm... what were you doing? Show me?" And you're so shy you're saying "no no nothing nothing" and he's like "come on babe show me what you were watching" and then when you do show him he's like "oooh so this is what you're into is it"

🌷🌷

🌷🌷

omggg yessss. i know its a common trope in fanfics that like y/n would be too shy to admit she's into a specific kink or something. so, maybe, like, she uses a video to "show him" like "hmmm this just gave ma a crazy idea that totally only occurred to me right this second why don't WE try this?" and he's kind of sure this whole thing is an act but just glad she felt comfortable enough to share it with him so he totally embraces it

[bisluthq]

https://www.tumblr.com/bisluthq/757239601082548224/for-the-people-who-think-taylor-never-cheated-on?source=share

Emotionally cheating that's a given, but I'm not sure they actually did something physical (or atleast I don't know if we can infer from those lyrics. I mean she had no problem telling us about masturbating thinking of him, so mentioning secret encounters, stolen kisses that kind of thing would be mild next to it and we didn't really get that)

Idk from what Taylor told us I also don't get the sense that if it went to physical it went all the way to actual having sex. But I can see in February 2023 where supposely they were stuck in the studio that making out or a kiss could have occurred. Not that it matters anyway, it was bad enough and if they happened is more just a technicality that anything else. But Taylor's pattern of cheating seems emotional to me tbh and that's why as soon as she's ready to leave the new relationship starts at full speed

I think we would be able to tell more if we knew how long was this going on. They reconnected for Midnights right, but did they actually go into full contact right after that and all the way through 2022? Because until like August or something, it seemed like her and Joe were still giving it a fair shot. So I think the timeline of when they actually got closer and the affair fully started would be important. Cause they were friendly before right, so talking with each other wouldn't immediately equal an affair. But when did the lines started to blur? I would bet it was around fall 2022, cause that's when they were seen hanging out, then she went to his concert in January, in February they were in the studio together and March the relationship ends

yea there’s just no real way to know exactly what happened physically (obviously there was intimacy but it could be anything from cuddles and hugs only to some kissing to full on sex like I’m not Taylor or Matty so idk) and there’s no real way to know the exact timeline also because in those types of situations the timelines are often blurry even to the people involved. Like who knew first that they liked the other person as more than friends? When did the texting increase? When did it go from joke flirtations to them meaning it? When did he start making promises? Like idk lol and I’m not sure they themselves would be able to pinpoint the exact moments those things happened.

[hoewkeye]

mass.

This fic is a part of my Sin collection.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

Summary: Matt’s trying his best to be a decent man, but you prove to be the biggest tribulation he has ever faced.

Tags: fem!masturbation, exhibitionism, religious connotations

Word Count: 1,015

Notes: This is going to be a part of my new collection named “Sin” with a lot of religious references because I’m ruined. The greatest @little-diable beta’d it for me again and I’m so grateful because she’s spectacular. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this blasphemy - there’s a lot more to come.

———

“You are drunk,” Matt stated when you put your hands on his shoulders, massaging his muscles with a playful smile on your face.

You had just arrived home, a few hours later than usual, and he was already worried when he smelled your perfume mixed with some cheap vodka coming from the building’s stairs.

“I am not,” you giggled, then added, “Not drunk enough, at least.”

“I can smell alcohol all over you, sweetheart,” he smirked, grabbing your wrists gently to pull on your hands, that were now on his chest, off him. “Let’s get you to bed.”

His smirk died on his lips, though, when he felt you getting closer, your breath now meeting his lips, “I’m not drunk enough, Matty,” you repeated. “Just happy.”

He tried to control his heartbeat, your smell never failing to leave him at your mercy — especially when you were so close. He gave in, knowing damn well you were dying for him to ask, “Not drunk enough for what?”

He could hear the blood running to your cheeks, turning red, and smiled to himself. You seemed so brave a second ago, but yet so shy and innocent. It was gratifying to see you at his mercy as well, since he had been your worshipper for a long time now.

You — his intern, his roommate, his troublemaker, his sin. The owner of his deepest desires, who had awakened something in him he didn’t know he had. The serpent that had tempted Eve, with your unique way that would make him pray for hours.

“Not drunk enough to kiss you right now,” you replied. “I’ll leave that to you.”

He didn’t want to disappoint you, but his moral compass wouldn’t let him kiss you in such a state. Even if you weren’t that drunk, you were still drunk, and he couldn’t. Matt closed his eyes and took a step back, hoping he’d have a chance for redemption in a future not so distant, a sigh falling off your holy lips.

“We’ll talk when you’re sober.”

The apartament fell silent for a few minutes before he heard the sound of your dress being unzipped. He stopped on his tracks, mouth slightly open.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to have fun, Murdock,” you announced before walking towards your bedroom. “Follow me if you dare,” you let out a devilish laugh. “You can try to fool me, but I hear you when you’re dreaming. It’s my name you beg for.”

Your dress fell to your feet as soon as you reached your bedroom, your underwear quickly leaving your body as well. You were aching for Matthew, your temperature so hot as if you had a fever, and every time you saw his figure it only got worse.

To your surprise, he actually came to the bedroom. His cane in his hands, his hair messy and the tie loose. He just stood there, as if waiting for a priest to start the mass — waiting for his religion to be preached so he could pray in silence.

You looked at his honey colored eyes as you laid in your bed, a soft moan coming out of your lips just by staring at him and his details. Your eyes drifted to his large hands and you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about them on your body, how firmly he would hold, squeeze you. Leave marks.

Your hand traced a path shyly to your core, a groan escaping your lips when you rubbed your clit anxiously. “Do you know what I’m doing, Matty?” you asked innocently.

He took a few seconds to answer, “Yes.”

His answer satisfied you, so you kept going; playing with yourself while feeling your stomach burn with the knowledge of being heard by him. Watched, in a way. It was so much better to touch yourself while Matt stood there in your doorway, fighting against the Devil that lived in him; fighting not to succumb to the sin that you had become.

“Touch me, Matt.”

“No,” he denied you once again, his entire body tense.

The fire of his sight played with your body as if you were in his personal hell, the sound of your fingers sliding in and out of you driving him insane, his hands gripping hard on his cane in a desperate attempt not to give into his deepest desires — not to join his little sin in the bed, not to touch his hard cock and pray for your name.

“Matty…”

He licked his lips, never feeling so tempted in his life. All the noises you were making, so obscene. He could hear your heart pounding, your little whimpers, your wetness making a mess on your fingers. He could smell your arousal, your sweat, your perfume mixed with the alcohol you had ingested before coming home.

“Don’t you want me, Matt?” your voice cracked, but you didn’t stop. He was facing his very own tribulation, “Don’t you want to make me feel good?”

“I can’t. Not today.”

You curled your fingers inside you and the sound you made was animalistic, so loud he almost split his cane in half of how strongly he held onto it. “Oh, God.”

The name of God slipping out of your lips was blasphemous, he thought, because you were the forbidden fruit from Eden. But also— you were a divinity, his divinity, his goddess, and he could feel your orgasm coming closer and closer.

So, in an act of repentance, he walked towards the bed and sat by your side, grabbing your neck gently and approaching his face to your ear. Your pleasure was too sacred to be experienced alone and, as your disciple, he’d help even though he couldn’t touch you the way he’d like to.

Submitting to you, he whispered, “I want to make you feel good, sin. I want to worship you like a servant, treat your body like an altar,” he placed a soft kiss on your jaw. He was so hard it was painful to move. “Cum for me now, and tomorrow you can cum wherever you want.”

[gustingirl]

the sound | j.kiszka x reader

“And I know when you're around 'cause I know the sound, I know the sound of your heart”

- how much can a person take when their mind is out of control? -

warnings: smut, masturbation, dirty talk

“And the fucking bitch had THE NERVE to yell at me! All I did was compliment her!”

And with that line, your boyfriend had everybody laughing hard, including you. Matty just had that personality, you know? Charming as a prince, funny as a buffoon, and the looks given by God himself. You couldn’t believe the man you had by your side, as you watched him entertain the table with ease. You recalled meeting him on the streets, and how his smile alone had you head over heels for the stranger that approached you as you were concentrated in your own world. All he needed to do was compliment your dress, pointing out how elegant you looked, and soon you were a blushing mess for him. And as easy as it sounds, he got your number and, months later, your heart. It had been three years and you couldn’t be any happier….right?

I mean, things happen in a relationship. You obviously had had your ugly fights and you had to admit you considered a break up many times. But you deeply believed a relationship had to be fought for. Nothing in life is easy, especially when love is involved. Matty wasn’t an easy person either, and you had to admit you weren’t one to speak. Still, every relationship or friendship involves a 50 and 50. You gave up many things, many pet peeves and such, for the one you believed was the love of your life. You expected he did the same, but with the years passing, you started to believe you were the only one truly putting the effort in the relationship.

It also didn’t help as your group of friends seemed to have a lot to say. It was especially Tina who truly didn’t like Matty. She had all sorts of negative thoughts about him, and suggested you dump his ass at least once per month. At first you were annoyed at the way she would get involved in your business, but with time, you started to feel she was warning you. All sorts of thoughts were always in your mind, but the second Matty’s hands were on you, he was the only one living rent free in your head. Actually, no thoughts at all were there. He could switch all your lights off with just one touch, and you loved every single one of them. You soon would remember he truly was the love of your life. There were no other men on earth who could move you the way he did.

But then he appeared.

The night was truly a blessing, the best one of your life. You were celebrating your boyfriend’s promotion at work with his friends and his friends only when your eyes were called towards the door. You had no idea if it was the sound of loud chatter that invaded the fancy restaurant out of nowhere or just destiny, but as soon as he walked into the restaurant, your eyes were there. To your surprise, you found yourself in a staring contest. This random man had just walked into the place and was already looking straight into your eyes. Something took over your body, and it was all covered in goosebumps within seconds. It even made you look away. Your body was on fire, and something bothered you in between your legs. Just one stare was enough to shake your whole balance off. You felt dizzy, and instantly held onto your boyfriend.

“You good?” Matty questioned as he looked over at you. You looked back and nodded, and he soon went back to the conversation.

You tried to follow as well, but something from the other side of the room was begging you to look over. You couldn’t fight the urge and suddenly, your eyes went back to the mysterious man. He seemed to be immersed in his own conversation, so you took the time to take in all the details you could.

He seemed to be Matty’s height, though his appearance was totally different. He wore a long hair style pretty amazingly, which made you think of iconic rock stars you liked when you were younger. His slightly opened black shirt was letting part of his chest breathe, which simultaneously took your own breath. Your eyes dared to linger lower, and you caught his hands softly massaging his thigh. The scene was to die for, and you even started feeling rather unholy thoughts coming up inside your head. All ideas about his outfit were gone and soon, your concentration remained only on his hands. You watched them go everywhere; from his thigh to his face, to later his hair to end up taking the bottle of wine and pouring a lot on his empty glass. You swallowed, dying to be sitting there with him. There was something so comfortable and warm about his presence. You could stare at him for years, even centuries. But he caught you.

You never looked away so fast in your life before. You knew how bad it was, he probably caught you. You felt your face turn red as you pretended to be interested in your own table. It was then when you began realizing you didn’t know anybody sitting there. They were all your boyfriend’s friends and none of them seem to even notice your presence. You had never thought about how left out you were feeling until then. You tried distracting yourself from the stranger across the room, and thought maybe joining the conversation could work out. But the second you opened your mouth, you realized nobody was even looking at you. You swallowed and sighed, something that Matty caught right away.

“Sweetheart” he called you by your favorite pet name and, as he placed a hand on your thigh, he shifted on the chair to face you properly “are you sure you’re fine? We can always leave if you don’t wanna be here”

You had no idea why but your heart was being shattered as if it was made of glass. The concern in your boyfriend’s eyes as he stroked your leg with caution made you think how lucky you were to have him by his side. You knew he loved being with friends and you also were pretty aware of how he would let himself go when hanging out with them. It was something that bothered you but, as we said before, you gotta give up on some things when you date someone. He was the perfect man for you, and some distractions were not going to be enough to have you dump him. You smiled widely, faking it as much as you could.

“I’m totally fine, baby. I’m just a bit tired, that’s all”

“Mmhm, I’m not sure I buy that excuse” he knew you damn well, you should have expected it. He wasn’t mad, though. He knew how badly you hated to seem weak, even with him. It would always take him some time to get the truth off you, but he never complained. So he showed you a sincere smile as he removed some hair off your face. You looked down shyly while smiling and sighed once more before replying.

“Would you please buy it for tonight? It’s your moment and I don’t wanna ruin it. It has nothing to do with you, I promise”

There was quite a silence before he nodded slowly and kissed you quite passionately. You felt every possible emotion with that one kiss, but the goosebumps from before did not make an appearance. As you watched Matty return to the conversation, you overanalyzed inside your head whether you were telling the truth or not. There was something about your boyfriend that seemed to bother you that night, but you weren’t quite sure if it was important or not.

It didn’t take you a long time before you were once again stealing glances from the nameless man. This time you were not alone, as you found him staring back. Unlike you, he didn’t look away once you caught him. Quite the opposite, actually. You thought you were delusional thinking that he was smirking. It could have been a smile you were not reading well.

But you did notice his eyes going up and down on you. It was too obvious to ignore. He didn’t even hide it. Like he wanted you to know he was checking you out. Your body began feeling like fire, like needing to peel off your skin. But something inside of you wanted to run towards him and erase all sorts of questions his presence was giving you. You had never been so curious before over someone you literally knew nothing about. He could be a serial killer or he could be married, but something made you want him so badly.

Guilt had never taken over you so fast before, as you felt Matty’s hand on your thigh again. This time, nothing came to your mind. His touch seemed meaningless, and your mind was only thinking of the man across from you. However, something down there was burning. You knew what you were feeling, you knew why you needed to clench your thighs all of a sudden. But it wasn’t Matty’s actions. No, it was the way the man’s eyes fell on your thighs that he could easily see from his position. Right then you thought you couldn’t be crazy when you caught him smiling. No, it wasn’t a smile. He was watching you with a smirk as your boyfriend caressed your thighs, with each movement approaching your crotch, while your eyes were stuck on the enigma sitting tables away from you. He was just enjoying every second of it; how you were being touched in such an ungodly way by someone you were obviously comfortable with, yet your attention was only on him. You could even feel him getting turned on, as you were apparently feeling the heat of it yourself. The second this man looked right back at your eyes with the same look of lust on his face as before, you felt everything inside of you explode. As if fireworks were suddenly being lit inside of your body, you could even feel yourself cumming right there.

Feeling a bit ashamed, you removed Matty’s hands and excused yourself. You took one look at your boyfriend who was now wearing a face of concern. However, not many thoughts could worry you at the moment as you rushed to the bathroom. It was lame, the attempt of jogging you did while making your way to the bathroom, trying hard not to grab your body to not give off any idea of what was going on with you.

But there was not much you could do as you basically threw yourself into the last bathroom stall, away as possible from the entrance. You sat in the bathroom, not truly caring about hygiene at the moment. The feeling of sticky wetness in your underwear was bothering you too much to care about anything else but to reach climax. Way too many unholy thoughts were invading your mind, and you needed to do something about it as fast as possible.

You slid down your panties, biting your lip at the sight of them. You realized how long it had been since the last time this had happened. Not that Matty didn’t satisfy you, but lately it had been kind of difficult to actually cum. You felt bad for lying to him, claiming you did finish. But you just couldn’t accept the reality. He was too lovely and nice to you, and the mere idea of not satisfying you would break him.

With no second thoughts, you opened your legs and drove your hand directly to your clit. You started moving your hand, started with a slow rhythm to tease you a bit. You knew it was dumb as fuck; you just needed to release and leave all this behind. But as soon as that man was once again inside your mind, it seemed like you just couldn’t reason at all. It was more than wrong, you should be thinking of your boyfriend, of Matty doing things to your body. But it wasn’t him the one conquering your thoughts; it was a handsome, mysterious, rockstar alike that sat a few meters away from you and whose stare could undress you in just seconds.

You closed your eyes and threw your head back as you sped up. You bit your lip to prevent any moan from coming out of your mouth, but the pleasure was too good to keep it down. You sighed after a rather loud moan escaped your lips. You relaxed a bit though, knowing that you were pretty far away from the entrance and could hear if someone came in. However, the feeling was taking over you and many more moans were released within minutes. Upon feeling the knot you knew so well, you brought a hand to your breast. You were feeling unstoppable, untouchable, in your fucking dreams. The dirtiest scenarios were being played inside your mind, with the nameless man as the protagonist. You were clean of shame by now. You needed him so badly, like a man lost in the desert seeks for the oasis. You were so close, you could feel it in your chest. You were preparing yourself for the climax, with your mind focused on the man’s face. You could see him so clearly you even thought you could hear him.

“You know, it’s not good to stare at another man while your boyfriend sits right next to you”

And just like that, you were frozen in your place. Were you going insane? That clearly didn’t sound like Matty.

“Now tell me, please, was it his hand on your thigh or me watching you that made you moan like that?”

It was definitely not Matty. You didn’t know what to do, what to say, not even what to think. Damn, you were not thinking at all. All you could do was work hard on calming down your breathing, though he was not helping at all.

“Come on, baby, don’t stop right there. You sounded like an angel, please don’t let me disturb you”

You swallowed hard. In no moment did you ever hear him come inside. But there he was, standing outside the stall, begging to hear you cum. You were a trembling mess, and you knew seeing his face wouldn’t help at all. But you needed it, you needed to confirm you were not going insane.

You put on your underwear once again, rearranged your hair and dress and opened the door with confidence. Confidence that was soon washed away as you were now facing the mysterious man, with only a few centimeters of distance from each other. You gulped so hard you could swear he heard it. The little smirk from before made another appearance and your legs began shaking the moment he adjusted your hair. You were not breathing by now, and he instantly realized.

“You can’t go back there looking like this. What if he thinks you’re cheating?” even the evil chuckles he released were hot. You were dumbfounded upon the man in front of you. He seemed to see through you, like an eternal lover. You were so astonished you couldn’t even form a sentence. “Is everything ok, princess? You’re quite silent now, I mean, in comparison from minutes ago”

“I…” you started, once again dumbfounded by every word that would come out of his mouth.

“JAKE!?”

Your eyes widened when a third voice showed up. It sounded loud yet far, and fear possessed you. You couldn’t be found like this, not even by a stranger. But something inside you clicked. Was Jake his name? You didn’t know, and his eyes were still so hard on you that no expression could be read on his face.

“JAKE!? ARE YOU HERE!?”

The sudden yet attractive eye roll was enough sign that Jake was indeed his name. He sighed before yelling back.

“I’ll be there in a second, Josh”

You were so confused at the moment, you truly had no idea what to think. But your mysterious man now had a name to go with that face, and that really was never going to abandon your mind. In the same silence in which he arrived, he made his exit with elegance, not before leaving with the last words.

“Won’t you cum for me, darling?”

hope you guys like it!! and feel free to request, love ya <3

[floral-and-fine]

A Sweet Feeling part 2

Matt the radar technician x female reader

A Sweet Feeling part 1

Solo triplet AU

warnings: mentions of masturbation 

Summary: Kylo and Ben come over for an unexpected visit with Matt.

A/n: Might write a part 3 :)

Matt’s smile quickly fell the moment he saw his two brothers in his apartment. The giant grin plastered on Ben’s face was a dead giveaway that something was up. Kylo was trying his best to keep a straight face, but Matt could tell from the look in Kylo’s eyes there was an urge to smirk and openly taunt him.

He knew his brothers well enough to know when they had something up their sleeves, something humiliating.

“So Matty, been pretty preoccupied lately?” Ben chuckled.

Kylo bit his lip and averted his eyes trying to resist from laughing.

“What is this all about?” Matt questioned.

Ben shrugged his shoulders, “nothing just stopped by to visit.”

“For no reason?” Matt asked skeptically.

“Just wanted to check in on our little bro,” Ben said feigning kindness.

Matt rolled his eyes, “Can you guys just get to the point, and make fun of me like I know you’re going to?”

“No,” They both responded simultaneously.

“You know how much we enjoy prolonging your suffering,” Kylo explained. 

“Assholes,” Matt mumbled.

“Have a seat Matty,” Kylo instructed.

Matt sat in a chair across from the two of them. Kylo was sitting with his legs crossed. While Ben lounged on the couch causally.

“We’re concerned about your performance at work lately,” Ben said in a mocking tone.

“According to Phasma, you’ve been distracted and taking frequent work breaks,” Kylo elaborated.

Ben broke into a little giggle fit as soon as Kylo mentioned “breaks.”

Matt could feel the heat rise to his cheeks, there’s no way they knew about that. He was so careful.

“We promised Phas that we’d have a little chat with you, but honestly we didn’t know it was going to be so much fun,” Ben mentioned giddily. 

Matt squirmed in his seat. There’s no way they were going to talk to him about something like “that”.

“Masturbating at work, Matt do you not have any self-control?” Ben scolded playfully.

Kylo finally unveiled his smirk, “you know Matty, that’s a very inappropriate thing to do even in a public restroom.”

Matt just wanted to disappear as he sunk down in his chair.

“Things really haven’t changed since high school,” Kylo stated shaking his head.

“At least you never had to share a bathroom with him,” Ben muttered.

Why did they both have to be so cruel? Matt just wanted to die, “Okay you guys have had your fun, can we just drop it now?”

“But there’s more,” Ben announced clapping his hands.

Matt groaned, what else were they going to tease him about.

“We did a little snooping,” Kylo started to explain. “We were curious as to why you started a new hobby at work.”

“And that’s when we met y/n,” Ben sighed putting his hands behind his head. “She’s really pretty, Matty. We can see why you like her so much.”

Kylo nodded in agreement, “she’s got a nice figure too. Of course, none of that has escaped your attention.”

Matt looked down at his hands, how could this get any worse, getting called out for something so embarrassing and now they know about his crush.

“Aw man, I wouldn’t mind spending some time alone with her,” Ben winked. “The things I’d do to her.”

“Guess Phasma should be thankful that Matt only masturbates at work because you’d end up getting sexual harassment charges,” Kylo complained.

“But did you see the way her hips sway, and those soft lips of her’s… honestly wouldn’t mind having them wrapped around my-” Ben added.

“Stop,” Matt pleaded, not wanting to hear Ben talk anymore.

“Calm down, Matty,” Kylo murmured.

“I just really like her…” Matt mumbled. “Think I might be in love with her.”

“We know, and that’s why you have a date to get ready for,” Ben revealed.

“What?”

“Yep, at 6, so you should probably change. Wouldn’t want y/n to think she’s been stood up do you?” Kylo stated pointedly.

Matt looked at his watch, it was already 5:15. He stood up quickly and rushed into his room. He searched for a dress shirt to thrown on.

As fast as he could, Matt brushed his teeth and sprayed himself with cologne. He felt nervous but was in such a hurry he couldn’t really sit there and think about it. He was about to go on a date with y/n.

Matt grabbed his keys and jacket.

“Have fun, and try to at least make a move,” Ben advised patting Matt on the back.

“Thanks, you guys,” Matt said looking back at his brothers.

taglist: @skellingtonbatz @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night

[wellamarke]

a sailor's heart is never run aground

humans challenge, week 2, day 6: pirate au a prequel to on the sapphire seas

There was a knock at Mattie’s bedroom door, and she gave a heavy sigh. She didn’t want to have this argument again. Her mind was made up and her bags were packed.

“Don’t come in, Dad, I’m masturbating,” she said, in a flat tone. He’d know she was lying, obviously, but she didn’t have the energy to care about that. She longed to be free of this house, to feel the deck creaking below her feet again, the swaying of her mother’s ship that had always felt so much like home. Being on land was suffocating. She couldn’t stay here.

It wasn’t her father’s voice that replied, though, and Mattie cringed slightly at the realisation that it was Mia out there, not Joe. “Your mother wants you downstairs, Mattie. Shall I pass on that message?”

Mattie could hear the note of levity in the synth’s voice, and she scrambled off the bed to open the door. “No, I’m good,” she said, grinning sheepishly. “That was just to throw Dad off. Where is he, anyway?”

Mia considered. “I’d hate to tell you anything that would deter you from carrying out my captain’s orders,” she said, mock-seriously.

Mattie rolled her eyes. “So he’s with Mum, then.”

The synth gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid so.”

“Ugh,” said Mattie with feeling, and started towards the stairs. She could hardly make her case for boarding the Emerald Eye by expressly disobeying her mother’s wishes, after all. If she did sail, as she was determined to do, Laura would be her captain as well as Mia’s.

She found not just her parents, but her whole family, waiting for her at the dining table.

“Mattie,” said her father. “Sit down.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Is this some sort of intervention? I’m eighteen, Dad, and if I want to sail, the only person who can say I’m not allowed is the captain. The rest of you can stay out of it.”

At a warning look from her mother, she sat down more meekly between her brother and sister. Sophie leaned close to her, clinging onto Mattie’s arm.

“As you said,” her father began calmly, “You’re an adult now, and I can’t stop you boarding the Emerald if that’s what you want to do.”

Mattie was surprised at that, but kept quiet for a moment, wondering where he was going with this strange line of reasoning, which started off by admitting defeat but so was so clearly meant to persuade her otherwise.

“But I’m still your father,” Joe continued. “And I still think you should consider this carefully. This isn’t just another jaunt up the coast, like you’ve been doing since you were Sophie’s age. This is a real voyage, and you won’t be back for a year or more. You’ll be abandoning your schooling, for good this time.” He gave a half-smile, as if regretful. “You’ve missed enough of it as it is, but no master will have you back if you’re away so long.”

Mattie nodded. She understood all this. She would be giving up a lot. But there was nothing for her here, neither in her father’s fields or the nearby town. Her heart belonged to the sea, and it always would.

“And it will be different this time,” her mother said, in the same grave tones Joe had used. “I can’t have you aboard as a guest anymore. If you come on this voyage, you’ll have to work as hard as the rest of the crew.”

Mattie was offended by that. “I’ve always worked on the Emerald. Did you think I thought it was a holiday?” Her eyes flashed with the injustice of it. “I’m not a deadweight! I make myself useful, ask anyone.”

“I know you’ve helped out,” Laura said, more gently. “But you’ve never been assigned as much work as the others. They’ve always treated you as the captain’s daughter, as well they should, but if you want to join the Emerald full-time, you’ll be the same as anyone else. No going to bed early when you’re tired. No picking and choosing who you work alongside, although I imagine you’ll be able to spend enough time with Max and Leo anyway.“ For a moment a knowing smile played on her lips, but then her stern expression returned. "And definitely no special treatment. The others don’t get to talk back to me. Neither will you.”

Mattie opened her mouth to protest, but then she remembered all the times she’d quarrelled with her mother on board the Emerald Eye, before rushing below deck to hide in Max’s cabin. Granted, she and Laura argued much less on board the ship than they did on land, but if she was to join the crew properly, her relationship with her mother would have to change a lot. They couldn’t quarrel like mother and daughter anymore; they’d have to swallow down even the tiny bickerings of a healthy rapport. Mattie would have no choice but to make those changes, and fast.

“I understand,” she said, biting back the annoyance she’d felt initially. “I can live with all that, if it means I can be on the Emerald.”

Laura looked pleased to see her backing down, but clearly she had more to say. “It’ll be me having to live with it too, Mats,” she said. “It’ll be me having to live with myself if anything happens to you, because you’ll still be my daughter if I lose you in a raid, and you’ll still be my daughter if you’re swept overboard.”

Laura glanced up at Mia, who was standing by the wall, watching the family’s discussion. “Obviously, I wouldn’t take you if I thought those things were likely. I try and keep all my crew safe.” She met Mattie’s eyes again. “I just want you to understand the dangers. You know what our aim is with this voyage.”

Mattie knew. They were going to chase the Joybringer, a much larger ship who’d fallen to pirates three summers ago. Mia’s brother Fred was still aboard, the only conscious synth in a crew of mind-controlled puppets who raided and killed whoever they came across. While it was true that the Emerald Eye had her own cargo to deliver on the various stops of the voyage, their overall aim was to claim Fred back.

Nobody went against the Joybringer if they could help it, but Captain Laura was determined to look out for the family of her first mate, Mia, just as Mia would do anything to help the Hawkinses. The two women were inseparable, and many assumed they were married, being very surprised to learn that there was a Mr Hawkins who kept himself tied to the shore. Mattie wondered if her father had heard the same rumours, and if part of his reluctance to let Mattie sail was rooted in the desire to control her, the way he couldn’t control Laura while she was at sea. Her mother would never be unfaithful while her father lived, Mattie knew, but perhaps Joe couldn’t imagine anyone keeping to a higher standard of morality than he was capable of himself. If there was uncertainty in their marriage, he’d put it there a long time ago, and through no fault of Laura’s.

Mattie looked away from her father, and locked eyes with her mother again. “You’re going after Fred because he’s Mia’s family,” she said, boldly. “And if that makes him your family too, then you can’t expect me not to feel the same.”

She sat back in her chair. There was nothing more to say.

Laura and Joe exchanged a glance. Mattie’s father looked weary, but he managed to smile at her. “I’m proud of you, Mattie,” he said. “You know where you’re headed. I can’t bring myself to like it, but I won’t hold you back.”

“Thank you,” said Mattie. Truly, she was grateful. But it wasn’t her father’s approval she really needed. He wouldn’t be her captain.

“Well then,” said Laura, her eyes shining. “I suppose I’d better welcome you onto the crew.”

Joy swelled through Mattie, but she kept her expression serious, and raised a hand to her temple in a salute. “Aye aye, Captain,” she said, voice soft with the magnitude of the occasion, even when she wanted it to sound tough and unafraid.

There’d be plenty of time for that when they faced the Joybringer, she resolved. For now, she had a family to say goodbye to.

[southernconundrum-blog]

Making a Case for 13 Going on 30.

I can still remember my Wednesday evening History of Film class in Film school. (Yes I went to film school, we can still like cheesy rom-coms) And the night my professor, a former DP for Columbia during the “golden age of film” stood in front of the entire class and proclaimed we were about to view, what most experts call the greatest film of all time. You guessed it, Citizen Kane. 

He went on to explain that what made it so great was the technicality and the innovation of it. The first film to use flashback and continuous wide shots, blah blah. I thought it was a snooze fest of straight white male nonsense. Yeah technically it’s cool they did all that with cut and paste film. I respect that shit, I do. But Citizen Kane is one of the most un-relatable stories ever. At least to me as a gay woman. It’s like the Catcher in the Rye of film. I have a hard time identifying with rich white dudes who feel like they don’t belong in a world created for and by them. If anyone actually read this blog I bet I’d get ALL the haters up in here leaving me comments about how oppressed men are now. Do it. I masturbate with male tears.

ANYWAYS. Fuck Citizen Kane in it’s boring ass face. I’m here to talk about the greatest movie of all time. The movie that is best picture every year in my heart and soul always and the one movie by which every other movie is measured. 13 Going on Motherfucking 30.

Yes it’s entertaining. Yes it’s a feel good romish-com with a cute cast. Yes it has Judy Greer. But what makes it the best? I’ll break it down for you.

CAST:

We all know about JGar and MRuff, and before we get to Judy Greer, let’s talk about the supporting cast: 

Christa B Allen 

For you true Jgar fans you’ll note that this was not Christa’s only time playing a young Jen. She also does in Ghosts of Girlfriends Past (another one of my faves but more problematic). Christa’s got the looks and the chops. She’s not only a dead ringer for the younger Rink, she’s also actually a great actress. Here’s what she looks like now BTW.

Pretty fucking spot on from the casting director I’d say. So if Christa B. Allen was the homerun, Sean Marquette (young MRUFF) is the grand slam. 

Then and now:

Yeah that could be Mark Ruffalo in the early 2000′s. And Sean does a great job himself in the younger role. Moving on.

BRIE OSCAR WINNER CAPTAIN MARVEL LARSON

In a bit part with ONE freaking line. She nailed it by the way. That’s how extra this movie is. Oscar winners as basically extras.

FUN FACT THAT ONLY A PSYCHO WOULD KNOW:

When Jenna is looking at her yearbook with Matty years later, it flashes this picture of the Six Chicks:

Notice Jenna is now “practically their leader” and Brie Larson is nowhere to be found. Presumably she has already been kidnapped and is in ROOM. Too dark? Or too REAL.

ANDY FUCKING SERKIS

You can use IMDB to go through this guy’s laundry list of amazing credits. And don’t stop at Gollum in LOTR because he was basically just getting started in this bitch. He’s also an accomplished director. He plays Jenna and Lucy’s (tom-tom) boss and the editor of Poise magazine. He’s also gay bc representation in 2004 hella mattered.

KATHY BAKER (Jenna’s mom)

Where have you seen her? Bitch, everywhere. She has a staggering list of nominations and awards from film, tv and stage where she’s had a phenomenal career. My favorite roles are between that gem up there in Edward Scissorhands and the woman of many marriages in the Jane Austen Book Club. She’s a legend and she’s NOT EVEN THE STAR OF THIS FILM.

Marcia DeBonis (Jenna’s admin asst)

It’s easier to tell you what she HASN’T been in. Like Kathy Baker, she’s made a career out of small, scene stealing roles. She also has a pretty impressive career in casting. 

I’m not going do Jen and Mark because we all know all of their shit. I’m the biggest JGar fan on earth so don’t get me started, but they are obviously mega stars and I need to save some room for.......here it comes...it’s finally here...you know it was coming..and here WE. FUCKING. GO.

JUDITH THERESE EVANS GREER

If Judy BAD BITCH OF LIFE Greer is in a movie? I’m seeing it. Why? BC SHE’s in EVERY MOVIE. Judy Greer is a brilliant silky chameleon with ferrari engine precision comedic timing. I would say she ties with Melanie Lynksey for all time underrated actress in history, but I think she pushes just past her since her body of work is unbelievably large. She has done indie, rom-com, sci-fi blockbuster, you name it. She can and has done anything and everything and I love her with every sad and broken cell in my fangirl body. She doesn’t support scenes, she carries them. And the only reason you think someone else is the star is because Judy wants you to think that. There are like 2 people on this Earth I love as much as I love Judy Greer and they are basically my mom and Claire Danes. She is an angel we do not deserve sent to us straight from a place we can never know. I legitimately worry that not enough people know what a treeey zzzurrre we have in Judy. I will do whatever I can to always spread the Gospel of Greer in this flaming shit bag of a world. If you haven’t seen Addicted to Fresno, please excuse yourself from whatever meaningless nonsense you’re doing right now to go watch it. Thanks.

STORY

A perfect cast, and yes this is one, does not a good film make on it’s own (see all those shitty Gary Marshall vignette films). 

Lucky for us we also have a perfect story.  This film has everything: redemption, friendship, love, betrayal, materialism, capitalism, competition, fucking TIME TRAVEL. And a dance number to goddamn Thriller. 

This movie created the catch-phrase, “Fabuloso”, which would eventually become the best smelling cleaning product of all time. It brought back Razzles, no doubt saving that entire brand from bankruptcy. It has complicated parental relationships, complex female friendships, a pre-wedding love confession scene, an NYC fall photoshoot montage, an accidentally fall-down kiss scene, a popular high school guy now a balding loser scene, a heroine saves the magazine scene, and a Pat Benetar slumber party pillow fight. 

SETTING

NEW. MOTHERFUCKING. YORK. CITY. Is there any other place where a 30 year old can be the editor of a fashion magazine and live in an $8 million apartment???

SOUNDTRACK

I mean, you’ve got The Go-Go’s, Whitney Houston, Madonna, Billy Joel, Liz Phair, Rick Springfield, Talking Heads, Soft Cell, I COULD ON AND ON. 

CONCLUSION

I am a rom-com SLUT. I have seen all of them, but this one is the stand out. Instead of limiting Jenna to the “she falls in love and finally changes her life” trope, it explores ALL the reasons Jenna’s life went off track. Not just because she lost her best friend along the way, but because now she’s dishonest, disloyal, and though she has the trappings of the life she dreamed of, she isn’t the person she thought she would be. In fact, Matty is not even the main thread of all of it. 

The takeaway here is that being present is more important than worrying and wishing about the future.Which is actually some intense deep Buddhist shit. 

By living in the moment we’re in, we can shape our lives however we want. Jenna was so intent on creating her idea of a perfect life, that she missed what was right in front of her. When she got a glimpse of what she thought she wanted, she realized how empty it was. The money, the cool job, the $8 million apartment doesn’t mean shit when you don’t have any real connections to anyone. And is there any better moment then when she goes back to her closet birthday party, kisses Matty and slams Tom-Tom’s drink in her face and calls her a “Biatch”? NO. It’s the most satisfying moment in American cinema. 

TWO THINGS

1.This movie has 0 diversity and is 100% straight white people problems. I acknowledge it. It is problematic. I don’t know what to say. It was the time, I didn’t make the movie, and thank the lorde things are changing.

2.Lucy’s take on Poise re-branding was 100,000% better than that Abercrombie bullshit Jenna came up. Don’t @ me.

JUDY GREER 2020

[rafguinabroad-blog]

March - May 2017

One of the reasons I missed out writing the blog for the last couple of months, is that there really isn’t much to write about, all I do is sit at home writing, playing computer games, reading and masturbating*.

As to the writing, my word count is:

Relative Ties – 60,000 Words (vampires and revenge) Apprentice – 30,000 Words magic and war) Librarian – 12,000 Words (sequel to Librarian,) Playboy Cop – 21,000 Words (playboy solves crime – shit title, I need a better one) Orcs – 17,000 Words (orcs join humans and go to war, everyone dies) Sapphire – 2000 Words (outline/plot only – female sheriffs’ deputy and white supremists)

Part of the problem is there is so much on the internet, especially addictive content like Facebook; I’m in my mid-fifties and am addicted to the crap that’s on there. I am also job hunting, and to date have applied for over twenty jobs. These range from forklift driver, courier, office manager, and office assistant, and haven’t had a single reply.

It’s quite dispiriting. Some of the employment agencies have a counter on the web-page when you apply for a job. This means you can see how many other people have applied for the position, one of them was up to 167, and most are hovering around the one hundred mark.

I am hoping to use my remaining Enhanced Learning Credits to do a HGV course, we’ll see how that pans out; it also means these coming weeks will be filled with the Highway Code and Hazard Perception practice.

Myself, Matt, Marc, Pat, Ashley, and Matty, spent the other Saturday at the Cambridge CAMRA beer festival. My first impression was that it was organised by a bunch of Doolally** monkeys who had problems organising a piss up in a .... oh wait! When we arrived, we spent 10 minutes queuing, got to the end of said queue, and discovered that we were in the CAMRA Members only queue. There was no sign or any information that we were in the privileged line, until we got to the part where we had to pay.

We then had to go to the end of the queue snaking in from the opposite side, and requeue for another 10 bloody minutes. This may not sound a lot, but when you have already had a shit load of coffee, water and beer, and your bladder is the size of an under developed orange, those extra 10 minutes are quite emotional.

Anyway, once we were in, CAMRA redeemed themselves with good overall organisation, and a superb selection of beers and food vendors. For those of you who don’t know how a beer festival works, the first thing you do is buy a one-pint beer glass.

This glass is marked up with measurements at the one-third, one-half and one pint marks, so when you womble up to the counter you can order those sizes, this helps prevent you only ordering pints all day and getting totally smashed.

There were approx. 216 beers, ciders, and meads. There was also a stand with wine, which I didn’t taste. To give you an example of how seriously the Brits take their drinking, here is a selection of my favourite beer names taken from the Cambridge Beer Festival website: • Twisted 7.0% • Lavender Honey 3.7% (with real lavender added) • Milk Shake 5.6% • Mariana Trench 5.3% • Black Pig 4.2% • True Blue 3.9% • Henry Tudor 5.0% • Death or Glory 7.2% • Strawberry Sundae 4.5% • Lonely Snake Citra & Simcoe 3.5% • Repetitive Strain Injury 5.6% • Brainstorm 4.0% • Slightly Foxed 3.8% • Ginger Panther 3.7% (this one made me think of Craig – but replace the Panther with a Sloth) • Dark Side of the Moo 7.0% • Chocolate Orange Stout 6.7% • Marcus Aurelius 7.5% (apparently it’s an Imperial Roman Stout) • Spiffing Wheeze 3.9% • Horny Goat 4.8% • Crispy Pig 4.0% • Prince of Denmark 7.5% • Fallen Angel 4.2% • Visions of Heresy 5.7% • Hand of Doom 8.2% • New Balls Please 3.7% • Mad Monk 4.8% • Back Sack & Quack 4.2% • Scream If You Want To Go Faster 8.1% • Smooth Hoperator 4.0% • Fall of Man 6.0% • Hot Dog Chilli Stout 5.0% (Just enough chillis to produce a pleasant aftertaste) • Bitter Invention of Satan 8.6%

Remember, these are beers or ciders, and all of them are handmade with love and affection. I enjoyed drinking them, not only for the taste, but also so I could walk up to the counter, hand over my glass, and say “New balls please.” Or “May I have Visions of Heresy please.” The other good thing about the day, was I was not the largest person there, not by a long way, in fact some of the women could have easily dominated me.

Matt and I had a most fantastic handmade pizza, which was made in front of us for lunch, and although it was slightly expensive, it was worth it. The only downside to the day was that my back had given way the week before, so I was in the most terrible pain. I was alright when I was walking, but struggled with sitting down. So the rest of the lads decided to show their caring side, and we walked the couple of miles back to the train station, and had bit of a pub crawl on the way back.

Marc held his 48th Birthday in his back garden, and he and I did a BBQ. For those of you who are unaware, Marc has a bar and a reasonable sized hot tub in his back garden, and as the weather was okay, most of us had a good time.

The only two creepy events of the evening were; Marc seemed determined to get me in the hot tub with him – I fought him off bravely; and I spent 20 minutes using a rolled-up towel to gently flick the bottom of a 6 year old girl in a swimsuit as she ran back and forth daring me. All present seemed comfortable with it. But I suspect that come my trial, it’ll be used as evidence against me.

Anyway, moving on. I’m currently looking for love, or just good old sex, on Tinder, and my age range is 45 – 60; apparently, it’s wrong of me to put 16 – 25 – who knew! One thing I have noticed is that a large number of women around my age, post pictures of their dogs, cats, horses, etc, instead of themselves. Why, do they think I’ll find the pets sexy?

How am I as a middle aged-to-old man, supposed to know if I can love you, or mate with you, in a loving and non-kinky way, when all I can see is a picture of a parrot, a pussy, pug or poodle, are the women subconsciously sending out a message as to what they think they look like? If so, they need to be seeing a psychiatrist, not looking for rejection or perverts on tinder.

Every couple of months I get my haircut by a gentleman of Brazilian descent, and the other day as I was sitting in the chair all tucked in, I couldn't help but notice that, a) he wasn't wearing underpants, and b) he was quite well endowed. Imagine if you will somebody walking around you in a tight circle, occasionally brushing your arm, with a small snake wiggling around in his pants. It was the closest I've been to sex in years, even if it was with the wrong gender.

Envisage if you will, a snake charmer whose snake is hiding in his pants and swaying gently from side to side, and it occasionally brushes up against you like a cat, or rather a snake, behaving in a non-threatening manner.

A few blogs ago I queried why manufacturers made deodorant that was good for 48, 72, or 96 hours. Since I have stopped working, quite often I'll not bother showering every day, and my record is three days. In other words, the manufacturers make deodorant for the unemployed. And I suspect it's not because we're all skint, it's because we either can't be bothered or we lose track of time.

The other week Whilst in Norwich, I went to Jacamo to get some t-shirts for myself, and when Marc found out I was going, he asked me to pick up a couple of things for him. He wanted sleeveless t-shirts, and when I questioned him about his poor choice, he told me that sleeveless was the correct dress code for the gym. Now, to be honest, I’ve seen him wearing nothing but a pair of swimming trunks, and trust me the correct dress code for him at any time, never mind in the gym, is a burqa and gimp mask.

Julie and Pat came round the other day for dinner, and as she walked in, the first thing Julie asked was “Jim can I use your Spermy keyboard?” Great! How well she knows me. First thing she saw when she sat down at the desk was a pubic hair, I swear it wasn’t, she insists it was; I did however, strongly suggest that once she’d finished, she wash her hands thoroughly.

A few weeks ago, Craig suddenly out of the blue asked me if my mobile was a Samsung Galaxy S6, and when I confirmed it was, he said did you know they're all wireless charging - it must be true because his mum said so. After mocking him for 5 mins, we drove to the only place we knew with wireless charging points - McDonald's, and arrived there at nine o’clock at night.

We bet a McDonald's meal on it. I was right, when we put the phone on the recharge pad nothing happened; however, Craig had more faith in his mum than McDonald's technology, and went and tried a different recharge point. Bastard phone started recharging, so we stayed and Craig tried to eat his own bodyweight.

Quote of the month:

Quote: All the Islamists from Saudi Arabia are wasabi. *** Corrected quote: All the Islamists from Saudi Arabia are Wahhabi.

How do you know that your friends are following the Slimming World diet? They turn up at your house for a dinner party, and bring Best Of Both (BOB) milk because they want to be healthy when they have their obligatory cup of tea or coffee. They also quiz you on the ingredients used in the making of the meal, and then spoil it by having four or five cookies along with their coffee!

Myself, Marc and Pat are on one of our diets again. We’ll eat healthily, but also cut out all booze for June – let’s see how that goes and who crumbles first. Marc’s trying to turn it into a competition, and is giving me daily updates as to his weight, food, and toilet schedule – and people say nothing exciting happens in my world!

That’s it for now, hopefully I’ll get a job and have something interesting to talk about in future. Jim

*Five, the record is still five, and I’m not going to lie, I thought my dick was going to drop off by the end. **To 'lose one′s mind'/an idiot or, Temporarily deranged or feeble-minded. ***Wasabi'ist – someone who loves hot Japanese condiments.