#young bf matty asks

[didyoulookforme]

Omg you’re actually the sweetest :((( I don’t have any crazy good ideas at the moment but I think just a some cute fluff with young bf matty would be super sweet, maybe getting comforted by him while sick? <3

class is about to start, and matty’s already in his seat, one foot tapping against the floor, half-listening to hann talking his ear off about some new guitar he wants to get. what surprises him is that she’s not here yet. she’s always the first one in, books already out, ready to get started because she’s probably the only person who actually enjoys being here. but the bell rings, and she’s still not in her seat.

when she finally walks in, his stomach instantly drops because he knows something’s wrong. he can tell by the way she’s holding her books too tight to her chest. she doesn’t look at anyone, just stares at the floor, shoulders drawn in trying to make herself smaller. when she drops into the seat next to him, she finally glances over, and his heart stammers because her eyes are red and glassy.

he immediately mouths “what’s wrong?” but she just shakes her head, barely whispering, “i’ll tell you later.”

he doesn’t hear a single word of the lesson. the class drags as he keeps sneaking glances at her, mind racing through every possibility of what could’ve happened. in the two years he’s known her, he’s grown stupidly protective. he really, really likes her—not that he can ever say that out loud. not when she has a boyfriend.

or had.

because when he comes over to her house after school, he finds out the fucking jerk broke up with her the previous night. just ended it out of nowhere. and that’s part of why she’s been so quiet, so sad. that, and the fact that she’s got her period that morning is making it the worst day on earth for her :(

matty doesn’t really know how to make her feel better. he wishes he did, wishes there was something he could do to make the tears stop, to ease the way she keeps wincing and curling further into herself as if trying to disappear. it fucking sucks watching her like this and knowing there’s nothing he can do to take it away.

he hates it even more because he loves hearing her laugh. loves the way she talks his ear off about a million things at once, even if he can only keep up with half of it. and right now, she’s the quietest he’s ever seen her, barely looking at him, face blotchy from crying and wrapped up in a blanket.

so he does the only thing he can do and tries to make her laugh.

“d’you think he cried after?"

“what?”

“like, do you reckon he went home, looked in the mirror, and just sobbed? maybe even, i dunno, played some sad music. dramatically stared out the window, whispered your name.”

that catches her off guard. she blinks at him, and for a second, he thinks it’s not going to work but then she lets out this small, breathy huff, something close to a laugh, and he full on grins because that’s all the encouragement he needs.

he launches into every possible scenario of how miserable her ex must be right now. maybe he’s lying in bed, regretting everything. maybe he’s stress-eating a whole bag of crisps. maybe he’s writing poetry about her, except he’s an idiot and probably can’t even rhyme properly. the thought which makes matty beam because he’s obviously written songs about her and he is over the moon whenever she says she likes one of them. <3

eventually, she’s fully laughing, and the relief matty feels is immense. she starts yapping about something or the other, and for a moment, it almost feels normal again. until she suddenly winces, curling in on herself with a muttered fuck, pressing a hand to her stomach. because, cramps. right.

matty watches helplessly for another second before standing up and heading downstairs.

because she shares (almost) everything with him, he knows she loves tea when she’s upset, so he makes his way down to the kitchen. it’s cute how at home he is, filling the kettle, grabbing mugs, pulling together a snack plate and sandwich without even thinking. he’s just waiting for the water to boil when her mum walks in and he immediately freezes.

"matty, sweetheart. what are you up to?"

"uh—making tea. and, uh, snacks."

"so she told you what happened, then?"

"yeah. her ex is a proper idiot."

her mum actually laughs. “that he is.”

he grins brightly at that, then hesitates before scratching the back of his neck, asking if there is a hot water bottle. and she just points to a cabinet, still smiling.

matty finishes getting everything, ready to head back but not before he thanks her mum. she makes a mental note to ask her daughter again why she doesn’t date matty instead.

when matty gets back to her room, she’s still curled up, barely moving, and it tugs at something deep in his chest. she doesn’t even look up until he sits beside her, nudging gently. “sit up, yeah? have some tea. it’ll help.” she sighs but shifts just enough to take the mug, her fingers wrapping around the warmth. he hands her the hot water bottle next, and she mutters a small, “thank you,” tucking it under her stomach. he watches her for a second, then leans back on his palms. “anything you wanna watch?” he already knows the answer—one of those cheesy, girly shows she’s seen a hundred times but can never resist, and honestly, if it gets her mind off the pain, he’ll watch it a hundred more.

and that’s how they end up sitting on her bed, backs against the headboard, sharing the food matty put together while she talks nonstop about the drama unfolding on screen. he nods along, pretending to follow, but honestly, he has no fucking clue what’s going on. every now and then, he tries to ask a question—y’know, engage—but she just rolls her eyes and goes, “you don’t listen, do you?” which, okay, fair. he mutters a small “you’re annoying,” but really, he’s more than happy. because if she’s rolling her eyes, if she’s talking his ear off again, it means she’s feeling a little better. and he honestly loves when she’s snarky with him, even if he’d never admit it out loud lol.

after a few episodes, she goes to shower, and when she comes back, matty is just dumbfounded by how pretty she looks in her own space. not that he’s ever not in awe of her, but there’s something different about seeing her so unguarded, completely herself. then she changes her top right in front of him, and he barely has time to react before she’s standing there in just her bra, casually digging through her drawers for pyjamas. “i’m still here, y’know?” she just shrugs, “matty, you’ve seen me in a swimsuit. this is no different.” “it is different.” “how so?” he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, because he has no real answer. he forces himself to focus on a crack in the ceiling, acting unbothered, but his heart is racing so fast it’s almost painful.

now it’s getting late, and unfortunately, matty has to head home. he can’t stay too long, not when he doesn’t want her parents to get mad at him. but as he starts gathering his things, she mentions how she doesn’t wanna be alone. and of course, the darling that he is, he can’t just leave after that. not when she’s had a shit day, not when he doesn’t really want to go either. so there’s no real convincing needed. he literally walks out the front door, waves goodbye to her parents as they thank him for keeping her company, and immediately turns right back around, heading to her window to climb back in, like he’s done many times before at this point. and just like all those times, he still stumbles in way louder than someone trying to sneak into his best friend’s house should.

with the need to be quiet, they settle on the floor, backs against her bed, sharing her earbuds as music plays from her ipod. they take turns choosing songs, and matty can’t help but grin whenever she picks something he knows she got from him. and he can’t help but blush when he notices the matty / dlid <3 in the artists’ list where she keeps all the songs and demos he’s sent her. they sit like that for over an hour, letting the music fill the spaces where words aren’t needed, until it’s clear she’s exhausted. she climbs into bed while matty goes to her closet, pulling out the pillow and blanket he always uses when he crashes here. but before he can set up on the floor, she asks if he can sleep with her. “you don’t have to,” she adds quickly. “i’d just… like the company.” matty swallows, heart knocking against his ribs painfully fast, and somehow nods before shoving the extra bedding back into the closet.

from that moment, everything moves in slow motion. matty walks over, lying down beside her, not really sure where to put his arms, too aware of every inch of space between them. but then she makes the decision for him—curling into his side, resting her head and arm against his chest. they’re both a little hesitant at first, but then it just fits. he exhales before wrapping an arm around her waist, only for her to giggle because it tickles. he stiffens, mutters an apology, but she just shakes her head. “it’s okay.” once they settle, she tilts her head up, eyes soft in the dim light. “thanks for being here. even when i’m too much.” matty just gives her a gentle squeeze, assuring that he’ll always be there for her.

it’s not long before she falls asleep on him, her breathing slow and steady, completely tucked into his side. matty should sleep too, but he doesn’t. he tells himself he’ll stay awake as long as possible just to make sure she’s okay. but really, it’s mostly to soak in every single second of this, the warmth of her pressed against him, the way she instinctively curled closer in her sleep. it’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to him, and there’s no way in hell he’s letting himself miss a moment of it. and if it means losing a little sleep, he doesn’t mind. <3

[lottiecrabie]

rockstar girlfriend – matty healy

tired of being treated like the girlfriend and not like the rockstar, you decide to pull a very rock move in the studio

warnings: 18+, oral (male receiving), fingering, soft dom!matty, praise, bit of degradation, drug use

2696 words

The New York Times calls you ‘everyone’s favorite rockstar’s girlfriend’. Twitter fan accounts gather a curated four picture reel of your best candids and caption it ‘rockstar bf it girl gf’. E!News’ periodic articles updating the world on all your recent outings read ‘Matty Healy and his girlfriend’. (Matty Healy and his girlfriend enjoy a steamy kiss outside a club in Manchester. Matty Healy and his girlfriend spotted in New York City with Coppola Cafe to-go cups. Matty Healy and his girlfriend hold hands as they wait for the London underground.) MusicoCritics title their deep dive on you ‘Matty Healy’s girlfriend’s album is a surprising masterpiece’. 

Nevermind that it’s your fourth critically acclaimed album. Nevermind that your living room shelves ⁠— clustered with flower-pressed poetry books, esoteric trinkets found in thrift stores worldwide, potted plants on the edge of death ⁠— hold multiple well-earned awards. Nevermind that you’ve been singing for fifteen years, scribbling incoherent lyrics in the corner of books for longer than that. 

Nevermind that you’re a fucking rockstar yourself. 

You are Matty Healy’s girlfriend; you are the appendix of a musician. Your boyfriend’s name collects apostrophes while yours dust away, forgotten under aliases, rotting from underuse. 

And, well, you’re fucking pissed. An entire career, fifty-seven songs, countless of voice-killing concerts, and it pales to practical inexistence for a nine months relationship. 

Not that you don’t love Matty. It’s just⁠— You want to be more, you want to be whole.

You’re in your rented studio, sitting on the dirty couch, reading countless Reddit comments asking ‘who’s Matty’s gf’ and ‘i didn’t knwo she made music lol’, fuming. You should be working on your fifth album, the idea of a ballad lingering in a corner of your brain, but you are too busy driving yourself nearly insane. Injustice grips your guts, twists up around it. You want to scream.

Matty sits beside you, lighting up a joint. His hair is unmade, falling messily around his head. Smoke pours out of his lips. “Stop reading that bullshit,” he says, not unsmartly. 

Your lips purse. “I know, I know.” You groan, head falling on the back of the couch. “Fuck, I just can’t help it. This is actually fucking shitty.”

In an effort to distract you, or perhaps loosen you up, Matty passes you the joint. He has two rings, silver and chunky, and chipped nail polish. There is something incomprehensibly attractive about his hands, callused and masculine; long, dexterous fingers around waxed paper. Desire pools in your stomach. You lick your lips, looking away, taking a hit. 

“You should go crazy. Be a fucking cliche rockstar just in spite.” Matty grins. “Smoke a ton, do even more drugs. Destroy your voice. Show up late. Be too drunk to play.” 

You snort. “Fuck groupies.” 

“I might have something to say against that.” 

“Die young.” 

“You’re already past 27. You’ve lost your chance.” 

A smoky laugh leaves your lips. Still, you consider his words, cocking your head. An idea half-blooming somewhere in you. “I think you’re onto something.” 

“What?” 

“I should make a rock album,” you say. “Be super fucking obnoxious about it, too. Make all these references, interpolate all the greats.” You smirk, giving him a teasing glance. 

A curl of hair falls over his forehead. His Adam’s apple bobs as he takes a drag of his joint, cheeks digging it, brown eyes closing in ecstasy. He’s so fucking hot. You’d tell him if it wouldn’t go straight to his head, blow it up until he couldn’t fit through the door at all. 

Cheekily, you throw a leg over his legs, straddling his lap. He welcomes you easily, a lazy hand holding onto your hip. “I’ll be the rockstar. You can be my eye candy,” you continue, fingers hungrily climbing to his shoulders. 

“Is that so?” His fingers tighten, dragging you closer to him. Your hips roll over him with precision, clever hand working you at just the right angle. Your mouth parts, a strike of pleasure climbing up your spine. You stare at him through your eyelashes. He’s entirely too casual, too pleased. Cocky as he watches you, makes you rock your hips again. 

“Yeah,” you nod, breathless. 

You grind slowly, teasingly. As soon as you try to speed up, a powerful hand halts you. A puppet to a cruel man who smiles as you fail to get any real action going. The pace is torturous, lighting up your body until all parts of you are aware of him, of his hardening cock. You feel him most of all in the ache between your thighs, in the absence of him. 

Frustratingly, your hands dig in his shoulders, clawing at the cotton. It’s unfair how little he reacts, how put-together he seems in his white button-up shirt, watching you grow desperate. Brattily, you add, “Yeah, you’re almost pretty enough.” 

Matty laughs, but you can tell he’s a little peeved; overblown ego shot down with your cheeky smirk. He adventures a hand under your band tee, pinches your side, digs his nails into your back, encouraging your hips to rock faster with a rough, ruthless hand. Victory feels like a wave of toe-curling pleasure. Heat spreads under your skin, tightening your muscles. A small, self-indulgent whine leaves your mouth. 

A grin breaks his face, cocky and pleased. How quickly the upper hand slips from you. Huffing, desperate to wipe it off, you crash your lips against his, swiping it away with a greedy tongue. 

The kiss leaves you hungrier. Matty has always known how to coax the wanton need from you. How to leave you rocking furiously against him, hot and desperate, thoughtless except for the overwhelming need to get off. Throbbing and uncomfortably wet, a high-pitched moan slips into his mouth. 

You break away to pant in his parted lips. Your hands hide in the mess of his hair, tugging at the roots, vengeful, careless. Still, Matty groans, rolling his head backwards. You smile too, just as cheeky, just as proud. He puts out the dwindling joint on your sofa, throwing it thoughtlessly in the studio. Finally free, he slips under your shirt, grabbing a handful of your breast. 

You bury yourself in the side of his neck, licking and biting under his jaw. With expert fingers, you undo the buttons of his shirt until pearls of breathy, pained moans spill out of him. It sounds like a song, like the rhythm of your favorite melody. You’d bottle it up if you could, burn it on a CD to listen for later.

You sit up, spine straightening, practically ripping your mouth from him. The movement is so sudden you feel it reverberating in your head. Your hips still as thoughts spin in your soupy brain. Matty whines unhappily, hand digging in your back. 

It takes five seconds. Once the idea fully forms, you look back at him with a mischievous smile. You start your rolls again, tantalizingly slow. You whisper, half to him but more to yourself, “I’ll be the rockstar, alright.” 

Matty frowns. Out of breath, he says, “What?” 

You don’t bother explaining. Instead, you stand up, leaving another moan to fall from his lips.  Hands tumble from your shirt. Turning around to your mixing board, you hit the record button.   

He’s even more confused when you come back to him, standing between his open legs. You take your time, racking two hands through your sweaty hair. Towering over him, you feel power gather around you, a heady mixture leaving you wetter than before. 

You’re drunk on him, on the taste of weed and toothpaste, on the look of his thoroughly destroyed hair, of his red, swollen lips hanging onto your every possible word. His chest rises up and down in quick succession. A tempting tent in his slacks draws your eyes lower. 

You ignore the throb. You ignore the need. You ignore the coil of building tension. You say, “I’m gonna make you scream.” You fall to your knees. 

His legs widen, hips rising in excitement. “Fuck,” he groans just from the sight of you. Mesmerized, he watches in sacred silence as you work on his belt buckle. “Fuck, love, look at you.” 

Matty’s own hand helps at his pants, ring twinkling in the low light. Finally, you manage to free his cock, hard and up, begging. You stare at it for a second, appreciating its glory. Your eyes snap back to his. 

You follow every expression as it overwhelms his face when you first wrap your hand around it, allowing one slow stroke. His eyes close, his lips part, his head falls. He’s an atheist experiencing religion for the first time. He’s breathing your name, he’s worshiping it. 

You smile. Your lips wrap around his tip, sucking on it. His hips jump in surprise. Matty’s eyes snap open, staring at you with a gasp. Exactly what you wanted. 

“I want you to look at me,” you say, licking up his shaft. “Don’t stop looking at me.” 

You could tease him. A part of you wants to, hand burning to slow down. A bigger part of you wants to ruin him. 

You swallow him down. Matty’s breath comes out in heaving puffs amidst the scattered moans. You feel his thighs flex under your hands; his open shirt reveals a taut, tattooed stomach, muscles rippling with ecstasy. 

You bob up and down, an electric pace that has you swallowing back a gag. Whatever you can’t fit, you stroke with deft fingers, twisting your wrist just like he likes. Feeling particularly devilish, you moan around his length just to hear him mutter a pained, “Shit.” His hips rise, but you push him back pointedly. Payback is salty and lingers on your tongue. 

Feeling yourself choking, you release him, spitting on his dick to lube it up. Matty thrusts up in your hand, eyes rolling back until he remembers your order.  

You lick at his tip, swirling your tongue around it, before taking him back in your slick and swollen lips. “You’re so pretty,” Matty says, voice hoarse. “Fuck, you were made for this, weren’t you?” You moan in agreement. “Yeah, that’s right. Made to be drooling on your knees for me.” 

Perhaps embarrassingly, you feel a pool of arousal gather in your stomach from his words. Your thighs clench, hips rolling against nothing in hope of relieving that burning ache between them. Your clit feels criminally ignored. 

Matty’s hands fly to your hair, racking through the mess he’s made of it. “Show me your tits,” he orders. Your eyebrows shoot up, but he’s only peering down at you with challenge. 

Releasing him with a bop, saliva stringing from your lip to his dick, you take your shirt off. You can’t bother to unhook your bra, lowering the cups down and grabbing one of your nipples with your free hand. You pinch meanly, just like he would, and the pleasure spreading through you feels heavenly. A broken groan leaves your lips. “That’s it,” he breathes. “What a good girl, giving me a show.” 

You whine. You can feel the control slipping from your hands with every ticking second, but your thighs are so sticky, your clit so swollen, your climax so far. 

He gathers a handful of your hair, bringing you to his dick. Your head stings, but you welcome him back with an open mouth. This time, you do none of the work, letting him thrust himself in your throat. Your eyes water as he goes deeper. 

“Shhh,” he sighs as tears stain your cheeks. “It’s okay. You’re doing so good, baby.” You nod, coaxing a desperate groan out of him. “What a good, little slut. Taking my dick so well.” Again, you nod, mouth full. Your hips shift, moving left and right uncomfortably. You can’t seem to get any real friction going, but you feel your insides throb against nothing. 

“Poor baby,” Matty coos. “You want to come too?” Needy screams muffled by his cock. Matty sneaks his booted foot between your thighs, pressing so deliciously against your clit you cry out. “There you go, baby. Grind.” 

And so you do, furiously rocking against his boot. Your hand not busy playing with your nipples wraps around his leg, gripping his calf. The pleasure is so pure your eyes roll back in your skull. 

“Eyes on me,” Matty’s rough voice rings through the room. You open your eyes, locking with his darkened ones. “That’s right. I want you to look at me.” His face breaks with a victorious grin. Payback probably tastes like sweat and sweet moans to him. 

You can feel both of you grow frantic. Matty bucks into you with a merciless, frenzied pace. His hold onto your head is ruthless; his fingers dig into your scalp, but you only scream more. Your hips follow his rhythm, each leather drag over your cunt making sweet euphoria grip your stomach. 

“Gonna come for me?” He thrusts with abandon, practically choking you. Tension builds in your core, pussy clenching. “Gonna come all over my boot?” Bold words coming from a man just on the edge of an orgasm. 

To prove your point, you hollow your cheeks, watching with glee as cries break out of his throat, eyes scrunching tight, cum spilling out of him. You suck on his tip indulgently as he comes in your mouth, cock still pulsing while strings of incoherent promises fall out of him. He strokes your hair tenderly as he slowly comes to himself. 

Matty cracks an eye open. He falls out of your mouth and you swallow his seed, watching him as you promised as you lick your lips. Another rough moan leaves him, half stitled by a chuckle. Ringed finger swipes your chin, gathering a forgotten rope of cum he shoves back in your mouth. You suck on it. 

He seems to realize then you still haven’t come. Face grimacing in shame, he grabs you by the armpits, putting you back in his lap. “Poor baby. You’re so close, aren’t you?” 

“Please,” you whine. 

Matty pouts, nodding indulgently. “It’s okay. I got you.” 

He sneaks two fingers in your pants. You should be ashamed by the amount of wetness; sticking thighs greeting him home. You’re too gone for that, of course, just sighing happily as he rubs tight circles on your clit. 

Your head falls on his shoulder. “I know,” he says, imitating your spineless whine, thrusting two fingers inside of you. You’re so wet there’s not even any resistance, cunt opening to let him in easily. 

His thumb continues his drawings on your bundle of nerves. He fucks his fingers into you, rapid and wild. You’re close again before you have time finishing a coherent thought, moaning in his open mouth. 

“Right there,” Matty encourages. “Come for me.” 

Your body shudders as you scream. You finally lose the tyrannical strings holding your body together. Euphoria spreads to each limb, making your head fall back as the edges of the world blur around you. Tension leaves your body in wiping waves. You flutter around his fingers, clenching and unclenching as you cry out his name. 

It takes you a few moments to come back to Earth. Matty takes his fingers out of you, wiping the wetness on the couch. You slap at his shoulders, but he simply laughs. “I love you,” he whispers in your hair, bending down to kiss you. 

When you finally regain control of your legs, you stand up to reach your mixing board. Hitting pause, and then play, Matty’s needy groans fill the studio. You throw him a look over your shoulder, but not even a pornographic recording of him could make Matty Healy blush. 

And, maybe your fifth album features a song named Blow You. Maybe deep, masculine sounds of pleasure accompany the chorus ⁠— just out of reach enough for people to be incapable of pinning it down. Maybe countless news outlets try to figure out, articles upon articles attempting to elucidate if it really is your boyfriend, Matty Healy, moaning on the track. Maybe they call you by your name. Maybe they even call you a genderbending, masterful, classic rockstar. 

[findanotherroominyourhead]

ABH and WATT for the ask game!!

the first character i ever fell in love with: abh- tabatha, watt- chess i think

a character that i used to love/like, but now do not: i dont really have one for either

a ship that i used to love/like, but now do not: same as last answer

my ultimate favorite character™: abh- tabatha (im literally in love with her), watt- kate

prettiest character: abh- tabatha, watt- reese

my most hated character: abh- angus bc we do not condone hitting on minors, watt- i dont really have one

my OTP: abh- alice/alfred, watt- kate/chess (they deserved better)

my NOTP: abh- alice/angus, watt- mattie/anyone bc shes too young

saddest death: abh- harold’s bf (nah im joking, alfred), watt- im still not 100% sure of everyone that dies but from what i know, chess

character that everyone else in the fandom loves, but i hate: abh- dodgy (sorry, hes mean), watt- i do not know who people hate

my ‘you’re piece of trash, but you’re still a fave’ fave: abh- clarissa, watt- riley

my ‘beautiful cinnamon roll who deserves better than this’ fave: abh- literally everyone, watt- eva

my ‘this ship is wrong, nasty, and makes me want to cleanse my soul, but i still love it’ ship: i dont have any for either

my ‘they’re kind of cute, and i lowkey ship them, but i’m not too invested’ ship: abh- the two background characters that are always hugging, watt- clark/annleigh (theyre cute but im a lesbian so im more focused on the gals)

[pokemonruby]

Hi it's me the Matthew enthusiast 🅱️lease answer 5, 6, 24, 42 and 43 for the detailed ask meme ok thankkksss 💕💕💕 (also unrelated to that ask meme but related to him, would he let me give him a kith kith on the cheek or hand if his face is off limit? 😳)

5. Height and Body type 

matthew is 6′3″ and a mesomorph! he seems tall and slender but i can assure you he’s got some muscle underneath all those layers. twunk extraordinaire. 

6. Headcanon VA

i’ve actually been debating this ever since his conception because there are so many VAs that would suit him i think... but it usually comes down to johnny young bocsh, the VA for lelouch from code geass, & james callis, the voice actor for alucard from the castlevania anime... i’m leaning more toward the latter tbh since alucard reminds me so much of mattie & his voice is just 😳

EDIT: and in terms of japanese voices, DEFINITELY kensho ono. 

24. Fave Season

now, you would think his favorite season is winter since it’s as cold and dead as his soul... but it’s actually summer, believe it or not, since it reminds him of his bf leo... 🥺😭

42. What’s the dumbest thing your character’s done?

matthew is a calculative, natural-born strategist who can use his impeccable cunning to get him out of any kind of bad situation, regardless of the severity... now, the storyline involving him is still a major work in progress so i can’t say exactly what the dumbest thing he’s done is, but i can assure you he isn’t invincible. he will definitely make mistakes... and a ton of them, at that. this is why he was so intent on casting his heart aside, so he can attain his goals without consequence - even if it means dirtying his hands and trampling on innocents... but in the end, he cannot erase the fact that he is a human being. 

43. What pokemon would your character be (if they’re already a pokemon/gijinka tell us what they are, and how that’s affected them)?

oh i could definitely see him as either a mightyena, because of his whole “lone wolf” motif or a houndoom... edgy ‘mons for an edgy boy. 

[mykiwicrush]

(expression + full body references of my OCs, Calvin Hughes and Thomas Pihopa)

Calvin is a mild mannered, but is often more shy high schooler. He has a typical American family of 4 (his dad, mom and younger brother). He’s an artist and wants to be one professionally. He’s had this dream since he was young, but his family look down on this. This carried out to his social/school life. Thinks his peers look down on him for his artwork. So he keeps it hidden from others while he keeps his other passion (trivia) busy with reading. Knows the tiniest facts of a wide range of seemingly insignificant stuff. He’ll bring a sketchbook in his backpack anyway, even after the few times he was sent to the principal’s office for distracting himself from school. His dad’s work sends him to New Zealand, so Calvin’s excited for this chance to wipe the slate anew and make friends without using his art as a crutch.

Thomas (Tamiti by his grandparents) lives (with his grandparents, his parents are out of the picture) in the town Calvin’s family moves into just before the new school year starts. He’s known as “the handyman” to anyone outside of school. He runs a small business in his garage where he fixes bikes, cars, AC units, boats, just about anything. He hates sitting around in school. His favorite class is chemistry cuz at least he can play with the bunsen burner. His passion lies in fixing stuff and his bike. He’s the leader of a very small gang, including his ex (Hannah), her bf (Thomas’s cousin, Mattie) and her brother (Reuben). They bike to neighboring camping grounds, camp out, drink and hang out. Thomas spots Calvin drawing one day in school, asked him to draw a design for his helmet, and the rest is history ;)

[didyoulookforme]

OMGGGGGG young bf!matty my beloved. I’ve read it three times and I need to make out with him NOW 😭 Thank you for this. It’s the absolutely sweetest. I hope there will be more of him because I’m obsessed!

this is gonna make me cry. thank you so much for reading! it was a fun one to write so i’m glad you enjoyed it.

he’s a darling angel that wants nothing more than for you to be happy, even if that means he cannot express his feelings because he doesn’t want to ruin your friendship. siiiiiiigh.

and yeah, he loves making out and that same night in his room he can’t stop thinking about what happened earlier. how he was actually losing his fucking mind about getting to kiss you because you’re the most perfect girl to/for him. as soon as you left, he went back to his bed and tried to replay every single moment of it. how you were so nervous but eager. how soft your mouth felt. how pretty it sounded when you kissed. how you kept licking and touching your lips after. he shut his eyes so tight to try and commit everything to memory because he never wants to forget it. and the sweet boy ends up humping the mattress several times before sleep, burying his head on the pillow just to muffle his moans of your name :) <3

[didyoulookforme]

over here thinking of young bf matty and how girlie calls him late during a weekend asking him to come over because she’s bored (and is secretly yearning for his company). and she knows he’ll never say no to her. they agree that he’ll climb through the window as he doesn’t want her parents to murder him.

he gets there in record time and after a couple of failed attempts, he finally hauls himself up and tumbles into her room, miserably failing at being quiet lol

it’s the first time he’s ever been in her room at this hour and it feels a bit surreal and too personal. then there’s her. she’s in her pyjamas: soft, oversized t-shirt, tiny shorts that make him swallow hard, and clearly no bra underneath. he notices the crumpled undergarment on the floor and immediately wishes he hadn’t. his glasses fog up a little, and he shoves them up his nose, forcing himself to look at the band posters on her wall.

they end up talking, eating sweets, and watching tv, whispering way louder than they should. until they grow tired and matty says that he’ll go back so she can sleep. don’t be stupid, matthew. just stay the night. it’s 4:30am. she mentions that he can also fit in her bed, but he absolutely refuses (because he knows he’ll get too excited) so he grabs a pillow and a blanket from her closet, cocooning himself on the floor. it’s not exactly comfortable, but he’s not about to share a bed with her. not when her legs are bare and yeah…

both of them are now settled, girlie leaning over the edge of the bed to see if he’s okay. she giggles at how impossibly cute he looks all bundled up with only his head sticking out. and she reaches down to take off his glasses. don’t think you’ll need these. he prays she cannot see how his cheeks have grown warm and rosy.

they say their goodnights but obviously both of them are now wide awake staring at the ceiling because they’re sleeping only an arm’s length apart <3

[didyoulookforme]

hi hi hi!

just wanted to say thank you for the love and sweet messages regarding the last couple of blurbs and fic. really means a lot that you're all here interacting with this space and indulging my delusion. you are all the best <3

i'm still working on getting through the prompts from this past weekend. so if you sent one, fear not. i'll make sure to get to it. pinky promise.

also, i'm somehow two followers away from hitting the big 500 which is a bit hard to believe. but here we are! so i was thinking of letting you all choose what actual fic i should write next. do you want bf matty? perhaps young bf matty? the currently very sexually frustrated stylist au couple? maybe some slutty postmatty? something else?

send me an ask and let me know :)

thank you xxxxxx

[didyoulookforme]

🤍 bf matty au masterlist

your boyfriend is a sweet soft subby matthew

* = smut alphabets

〰️ nsfw alphabet: cute & soft matty healy x fem reader*

〰️ (not quite) sfw alphabet: cute & soft matty healy x fem reader* oneshots

〰️ walkabout (2.6k; young bf matty)

〰️ the one to wait (3.2k; young bf matty)

〰️ though i wish i could* (7.7k)

〰️ those dreams you had (2.1k) blurbs & rambles

〰️ pov: you praise matty for the first time*

〰️ pov: just you and matty hanging out in a park

〰️ pov: you decide matty needs some makeup

〰️ pov: just a slow morning with matty*

〰️ pov: you think about one of matty’s kinks*

〰️ pov: just matty keeping you company

〰️ pov: just you and matty cuddling

〰️ pov: you edge matty*

〰️ pov: matty watches you up close*

〰️ anon ask: tying matty’s hands rambles*

〰️ pov: you looking down on matty*

〰️ pov: matty keeps you warm*

〰️ anon ask: giving matty a lazy blowjob*

〰️ mutual ask: toy shopping*

〰️ smutty prompt: relax, i’ve got you // you’re doing so well*

〰️smutty prompt: i’ve never done this before // i don’t know what i’m doing*

〰️ anon ask: taking care of you (young bf matty)