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sugar-coat-it · 29 days

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Know It's For The Better

If this has already been done I apologize, the concept is probably not super original LOL

CW: Girlie is drunk!!

Fem! Reader

Contains: George’s younger sister! Reader, Matty taking care of drunk girlie, mutually secret pining, SICKLY amount of yearning, they’re so in love but so stupid :(, reader is turned down because she’s drunk, sad sad sad

WC: ~4,300

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You get too drunk and Matty comes to take care of you. The lines of a longtime friendship are blurred.

—----------------------------

“C’mon…” Matty mutters, keeping you supported with an arm under your shoulders as he leads you out of the bar.

“Matty? Matty, what are you doing here, you’re supposed to be… doing music…” you giggle, almost tripping over your own feet as you lean into him.

“Yeah, I should be doing music, but right now I’m looking out for you,” he says, shaking his head as you laugh at nothing in particular, “you really got yourself into a mess tonight, hm?”

“What do you mean?”

Your brows furrow as you look up at him, pouting like you still don’t fully understand why he’s here. Matty uses one hand to open his car door, the other firmly wrapped around you. He shoots you a look, his eyebrows almost raising high enough to meet his hairline. There are a few beats of silence like he’s allowing you a moment to realize how ridiculous the question is. Your blank stare tells him all he needs to know.

“I mean you’re plastered,” he sighs, helping you into the car seat, your lack of balance making it somewhat difficult.

“Ohh… yeah,” you nod in agreement that you are in fact plastered, shitfaced, sloshed, and whatever he’d like to call it.

You slump back against the seat as your eyes flutter shut, smiling to yourself as you relish in the warmth of being so totally wasted, the world spinning just slightly. Matty is silent as he rounds the car to get into the driver's seat, now reaching to strap in your seat belt. You crack your eyes open just enough to catch the clench of his jaw.

“Andrea told me on the phone that you begged her not to call your brother to come and get you. Which is why I’m here instead,” he explains, not seeming too impressed.

Right. Your brother, George. That was the last person you wanted to come and get you, already knowing the lecture that would come with it. You vaguely remember insisting that Andrea call Matty instead, knowing he’d take good care of you like he always has. He glances over at you to make sure you’re still upright as he starts his car, the engine rumbling to life with a purr.

The drive is quiet as you stare out of the windshield, watching the street lights streak across the night like they’re melting. His hand moves across the center console to turn on the radio, the station already being set to his favorite, indie classics. He never did like silence, Matty fills it any way he can.

“What were you drinking anyways, darling?” he asks, sounding more curious than patronizing.

You love that about Matty. He’s older than you and certainly protective of you, but he doesn’t always fault you for wanting to act your age, for doing something on the wilder side. Some might call it a bad influence, he prefers “learning from the best”.

“Umm,” you squint like you’re trying to remember what was in the shots, “tequila.”

“Tequila! Wow, you really went for it, didn’t you?” he chuckles before clicking his tongue, knowing damn well that you only drink tequila when you’re trying to crash and burn.

You frown, sensing a slightly frustrated lilt in his voice. Maybe you had actually gone too far this time. You shift your body to face him, your cheek smushed against the headrest. Your stomach lurches at the idea of him being upset with you, especially since you’d been tying yourself in knots since you were a teen to appeal to him, to be the kind of girl he would want. Suddenly, you’re 17 again and you’re staring at yourself in the mirror, picking apart every piece of yourself that you think he wouldn’t like. Over and over. Anything for him to notice you. Your face is illuminated ruby by the traffic lights, the car rolling to a stop. Matty drums his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the soft beat of the radio.

“Are you mad?” you mumble, your chin tilting down slightly as you struggle to keep your head up.

“Mad?” Matty echoes, his eyes snapping to you with a newfound softness, a vastness of gentle, honey brown, “No, no, I just- what got into you tonight?”

Relief washes over you like the gentlest wave, you know even if he was mad, he couldn’t stay that way, not when you’re draped over his passenger’s seat. You’re proudly self-proclaimed to be his weak spot, it’s always been that way. A dazed smile pulls at your lips at the confirmation, and he just playfully rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to the road.

“I dunno. Was just having fun,” you shrug, toying with the strap of your seatbelt.

Matty knows better, but he doesn’t push for more details. Not yet anyway. You can practically see his thoughts racing as he stares at the yellow lines of the street, his lips pressed into a thin line. But, he can pick your mind about why you got so drunk later, right now he’s trying to focus on the main task: getting you home and safely in bed. He’s already mentally mapping where you keep your Tylenol so he can leave some on your nightstand for you before he goes. Now comes the fun part as he parks his car in front of your apartment building, he gets to take you up the stairs. Joy.

It’s a slow process, Matty instructing you to hold on tight and “don’t fucking let go, you’ll crack your pretty head open”. You laugh like it’s the most well-crafted joke he’s ever told but still abide by his word. Your giggles ring through the stairwell, a bright sound like a melody to Matty’s ears. One step at a time, you make your way up the stairs, successfully keeping your head in one piece with his hold keeping you steady. When did he get so strong? You almost wish there were just a few more steps so his hands could stay on you, ringed fingers firmly pressed into your skin.

“Stay with me here, we’re gonna get you to bed, okay?” he reassures, looking over at you every couple of seconds.

“Nooo, wait, I don’t wanna go to bed. I’m not tired,” you complain, protesting with pursed, glossy lips.

“Not tired, huh? You were about seconds away from nodding off in the car,” he chuckles, giving your shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

He doesn’t bother with letting you aimlessly fish through your purse for your keys once you reach your front door, taking the bag from you to stick his hand in and retrieve them. Matty keeps you steadily at his side as he unlocks the door, slinging the strap of your purse over his shoulder. The door pushes open with a creak and he ushers you inside, the hand on your lower back sending a shiver skittering up your spine. He follows behind you, watching as you wobble your way to the couch instead of to your bedroom. He rakes a hand through his curls streaked with gray before pressing his fingers into his temples, knowing this night was going to be longer than expected. You drop down onto the cushions with your head tilted back, a lazy smile plastered on your face.

“Darling, bed is this way, you can’t sleep on the couch,” he says gently, placing your purse down on your coffee table.

You ignore him as he approaches you, instead frowning as you reach to soothe your fingers over the red marks marred into your heels from your shoes. Without missing a beat and without a word, Matty drops to his knees in front of you, batting your hands away from your feet. He carefully undoes the straps of your heels, nimble fingers grazing your skin. You can’t help but stare at the spectacle of Matty Healy being on his knees before you, his muss of curls shadowing his tired eyes as he works. He places both heels to the side after sliding them off, giving your knee a pat before he stands up to his full height. Immediately, you grasp the sleeve of his button-down shirt, like the thought of him being any further away is unbearable.

“Stay? Chat with me. I’d like to chat,” you suggest, your fingers curling into the crisp fabric.

“You’re unbelievable, really,” he mutters, shaking his head, “Fine. But we’re not falling asleep here, okay?”

You nod eagerly, you’d agree to any terms he set as long it meant he’d stay. Matty sits down next to you, allowing you to curl up against him with your head resting on his shoulder, your arms loosely around him. A tentative hand snakes up your back to your arm, holding you there as he stares forward, knowing his heart might burst if he looks down at you all cozied up to him. His thumb gently strokes up and down against your skin, like he’s confining himself from touching you any more than just that. Matty asks if he can get you anything, but you decline, not needing anything other than this moment. Who were you to ask for more? The gentle rhythm is lulling you into a bit of a daze, but you force your eyes to stay open to have the privilege of gazing upon him when he’s so close. So warm. So real. You find yourself studying his features, half-lidded eyes searching his face.

“I think I’m jealous of you,” you admit, your voice low.

Matty lets out a gasping sort of laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners with mirth. What on earth were you on about?

“Jealous of me? Why?” he smiles, an amused glint in his eyes.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Matty’s expression changes, shifting into something you can’t quite read. His lips part with surprise, but his words catch in his throat. You move your head off of his shoulder to get a better view of him, reaching out slowly to cup his face as you shift your body. His hand on your arm keeps you steady, knowing you could easily topple over. You’ve never been so bold as to touch him this way in your whole life. Matty clears his throat, a crooked smile forming on his lips.

“Guys can’t be beautiful, sweetheart,” he says.

Oh, but they can. You’ve been quietly admiring his beauty for so long, how could he say such a thing? You’ve watched him change over time, seen him grow from a gangly, unsure, freckle-faced thing to a confident man who slicks back his unruly hair and wears button-down shirts instead of faded band tees. You thought every version of him was beautiful in his own way.

Silently, you take one of your hands and begin to trace the features of his face, delicately drawing your fingertips along the bridge of his nose, the slope of his forehead, and the slight rosy hue of his cheeks. Every bit of him is perfection to you. He opens his mouth like he’s about to question what you’re doing, his eyebrows drawing together, but he doesn’t make a sound. He just stares back at the focused look on your face, noticing your quiet wonderment, your gentle, sparkling adoration. It’s like you’re dissecting him, and it’s making him feel so exposed to you like you’ve stripped him of everything right to his very soul. He tells himself that you’re just drunk, you don’t mean any of it, but that doesn’t change the way his heart is intensely thrumming against his ribs faster and faster. No one had ever touched him that way before, so delicately, and he certainly hadn’t expected to like it so much. He feels like he could melt right into the cushions. He loves you. Loves you loves you loves you.

You let out a satisfied hum as you finish, sliding your hands off of his cheeks and down onto his chest instead, absentmindedly drawing little swirls with your nails against his shirt. His body shudders just slightly at the feeling, a tingly sensation erupting under your touch.

“You done feeling up my face and shit?” he teases, trying to play off how you’ve just flustered him to his bones.

You just beam at him, haziness written all over your expression as you let your head drop to his shoulder again. You chat a little longer about trivial things, Matty keeping the conversations simple so you can keep up. He asks you if your favorite color is still the same as it was when you were younger. When you mutter out a “yes”, suddenly, it’s like his whole world has been painted with it. You smile to yourself that he even remembered. His fingers gently trail up and down your arm, almost like his fingertips are ghosting over your skin. A few beats of silence pass before Matty goes for the heart of the issue, the question like a bucket of water over your head.

“Are you gonna tell me why you actually got so wasted?” he murmurs, glancing at you through the corner of his eye.

“... Was just feeling… sorta lonely, or something. Sorry for myself, and all that,” you sigh, not entirely sure why you’re telling him something that sounds so pathetic, but your words are tumbling out faster than you can process them.

Matty hums thoughtfully, feeling as you bury yourself further into his neck, like you’re trying to hide from him, from reality. He knows he’s dampening your fun a little, reminding you of why it all happened, but he just couldn’t leave it alone, not when he knew you were hurting. You distract yourself by drawing small, languid swirls on his chest, the beat of his heart keeping you grounded.

“What happened? I thought you were fiercely independent. A one-woman show,” he snickers, thinking back to the exasperation he was met with when he’d asked why you were still single (“I don’t need a boyfriend to be happy, Matty. I have aspirations, you know. I’m focused on more important things,” you’d preached.)

When you say nothing in response, the realization creeps up on him that teasing you isn’t the right approach at the moment. Clearly, even you weren’t above the lamentations of the heart. You didn’t need a jab at how your fierce independence was what led you to bed alone every night. He swallows thickly, as if literally swallowing his pride before he speaks again, his tone laced with what you could only label as tenderness from the normally brash man.

“What’s been on your mind?”

“I’m gonna fucking die alone,” you groan, covering your face with your hands, having totally forgotten that you were wearing makeup.

He stifles a laugh, both at how you’ve smudged your eyeliner and because of your intoxicated overreaction. Obviously, this wasn’t a joke to you, and he needed to get this right. He raises his hand slowly, brushing stray strands of hair away from your face. Your stomach swoops, you swear you’ve seen this in a dream before.

“You’re a lovely girl, sweetheart. Anyone who doesn’t see that is either stupid or blind. You’ll find what you’re looking for, and you won’t die alone, silly,” he says, punctuating the word “silly” with a poke to your side.

A lovely girl. He thought you were a lovely girl. One that wouldn’t die alone. That’s… comforting, you suppose, even if it’s in an odd way. Part of you wonders if you’ll die with your feelings for him held close to your chest. The other part isn’t sure if you could truly hide it that long, or if your devotion would spill from your clutches like water between your fingers. Would he drink it from your palms if it did?

“Do you ever get lonely, Matty?” you ask in return, your words slightly slurred.

Matty pauses. Seemingly, he didn’t expect this to be turned around on him. He makes an awkward “erm” sound as he evaluates the question. With countless adoring fans, many of them being gorgeous women, how could he ever feel alone? It wouldn’t make any sense. So why does the void never go away? Why does coming home after throwing himself into his work at the studio feel so totally melancholic? He’s supposed to be living his dream.

“I suppose sometimes I do. But that’s just being human, innit?” he shrugs, ignoring the pang in his chest.

Your fingers pause their patterns, stilling on his shirt. You allow your hand to press flat over his heart, feeling it thrum under your palm. What if this was it? You’re both lonely and after all, he just said he thinks you’re lovely. Urges rattle at the back of your mind, you’re replaying every single moment that he’s looked at you a little too long, every time that his touch created sparks from a lingering brush. It had to all have been real, you weren’t crazy. Your head is swimming, you’re moving before you can even fully process it, and it feels like the room is tilting with your body. With your hands on his shoulders, you wobble as you lift one leg over his lap to straddle him. Matty’s eyes go wide, he hastily reaches out and grasps your hips, trying to keep you steady. You feel like you’re burning up from the inside, you can only think about him, his cologne, his calloused fingertips, his mouth, his tattooed skin. Hot, liquid need is consuming you, eroding any bit of rationality left.

“We could help each other, y’know?” you suggest, your voice dripping with implication.

Matty glances down at your lips for a moment, but he tears his eyes away just as quickly as if he’d been burned. He looks stunned, his body totally rigid against the couch as his fingers dig into your hips, his blunt nails biting at your skin through your clothes. You look like a wet dream perched on his lap like that, but the very idea of this continuing when you were in this state made Matty’s stomach churn. He shakes his head, swallowing hard as he starts to speak, his voice strained as he tries to reason with you.

“Darling, listen to me-”

“No one would have to know. George wouldn’t know, it could be… it could be a secret,” you interrupt, biting your lip as you speak in a hushed voice.

The reminder of your brother’s existence just added to the urgency of getting you off of his lap. Hell, he’d probably wring Matty’s neck just for not immediately taking you to your room and promptly leaving. He didn’t want you to be a secret like you were some kind of dirty indulgence for him. No, you didn’t deserve that, and it frankly broke his heart that you would let him treat you that way.

“No. We can’t,” he asserts, his tone coming out much firmer.

Many people think “heartache” is just an expression, but they’ve never felt the actual squeeze in their chest. A sobering rush goes straight to your head as your heart clenches, shame flooding your body. You loosen your hold on his shoulders, letting your hands drop to your sides. You take a shuddering breath, stammering something that neither of you can decipher because of how scrambled your thoughts are. Part of you wants to beg, to tell him you’ll be the best he’d ever had if he let you. But you don't, you let everything come crashing down around you.

“You’re drunk, you’re not thinking straight. I absolutely will not take advantage of that,” Matty says softly, watching your face drop.

“But- but I… I just wanted to… wanted you…”

“I know.”

Matty gently slides you off of his lap, feeling like the biggest monster in the world. He knows he’s doing exactly what he should, but the look on your face has guilt gnawing at his insides. Silence settles over the two of you like a layer of snow, you wrap your arms around your body to shield yourself from its frigidity. He’s about to apologize, to tell you how much he’d love to quell your loneliness another time but you speak first, your voice shockingly even, like you hadn’t had a drop to drink.

“Can you just take me to my room?”

He’s quiet for a moment before nodding, sensing your almost palpable embarrassment and regret. Matty gets up off of the couch first, reaching his hands out to you to help you up. It feels bittersweet to take them as you stand, finding his touch both comforting and sickening. You want him near but also want him as far away as possible, it’s like the push and pull of the cruelest magnet.

He helps you sit down on your bed, your little black dress starkly standing out against your soft white sheets. You have a faraway look on your face, and Matty has no clue what to say or do to make any of this better. He knows he can’t pick up the pieces, but he slowly reaches out to rub away some of the mascara that’s smudged under your eyes. You’re trying your hardest to bite back tears, shaking your head as he asks you if you want to change or take off your makeup. You don’t know how to describe the feeling in your stomach as anything other than disgusting. You just want to sleep and forget.

“Oh, my dear…” he murmurs sympathetically, “I’ll let you get some rest, okay?” You find yourself a little panicked at the idea of him leaving your side, automatically grasping his arms. You coax him closer, despite the shame biting at your ankles, nipping at your skin. Quietly, he understands. He eases himself into your bed next to you, letting you curl up at his side, your head on his chest. You feel it rise and fall under your cheek with each breath. Slowly, your body becomes less rigid as you let yourself melt into him. Exhaustion is seeping in, but this time the physical kind.

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” you whisper, letting out a humorless chuckle at your expense.

“And why wouldn’t I be here?”

“Because I’m a mess. And I threw myself at you.”

Matty smiles softly, letting out an amused exhale through his nose. You’re laying there wondering how he isn’t repulsed by you, and he’s gazing down at you thinking about how beautiful you look in this light.

“You’re just drunk and a bit lonely. Nothing to kick yourself over, sweetheart, we’ve all been there. You were only bein’ a little affectionate.”

“Affectionate? I was trying to jump your bones.”

He laughs at that, a loud, uproarious noise that’s completely unmelodic, and yet it’s your favorite sound. His chest rumbles with his barking laughter under your cheek and you find yourself smiling, just a little. You can’t help it, even when it almost hurts to breathe. As his chuckles subside, he begins stroking your hair, running his fingers through the unruly strands. Your eyelids are getting heavier, it’s as if time is moving in slow motion, dragging on to an unceremonious stop. You’d daydreamed about falling asleep in his arms, but not like this. On the brink of slipping into sleep, your heart begins to pour out in a delirious confession.

“I know you'll never see me the way I see you. But that's okay. I can quietly admire you. I just want you to be happy. Even if that's with somebody else," you mumble.

You don't know why you’re doing this. You can hardly think straight. You just love him. You’ve loved and wanted him for too long. Longer than anyone should have to bear.

“What are you talking about?” he whispers, his smile fading.

"You know what I mean," you continue, the stream of consciousness making you feel somewhat lighter, "you're gonna... you're gonna marry a model... and be happy... and I'll find something... and I'll be fine.”

What you’re saying doesn’t make much sense to him, but it pulls him apart regardless. He can’t help but feel sick to his stomach that you don’t see yourself in his future. Matty gives you a soft squeeze, staring at the top of your head as you barely cling to consciousness. He wants to tell you how he feels so badly, it’s killing him. Everything inside is screaming at him to confess, but he can’t, not when you might not even remember it. He decides this will have to suffice.

“Sweetheart, I promise you, I would not be happy in that scenario. Not without you.”

“What?” you mutter, sounding dazed.

Well, sure, you’ll be there. You’ll go visit him in his house that’s far bigger than necessary and force a smile when you greet his impossibly beautiful wife. But… the way he said it… no. You shouldn’t delude yourself any further.

“Look, you need some rest. We can talk about this later, yeah?” Matty sighs, burying his nose in your hair as he kisses the top of your head.

“Yeah. Okay.”

You feel sleep’s forgiving embrace wrap her arms around you. If you’re lucky, maybe you've drunk enough so you won’t remember any of this in the morning. Blissfully unaware, you wouldn’t have to carry this weight. Whatever happens to you, you know it’s for the better.

Before you truly drift off, you say one last thing. Barely audible, but just loud enough to drive a dagger through Matty’s heart.

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

It’s like the air has been crushed from his lungs. You’ve left him alone with his rampant thoughts, his regrets. God, how he wishes this could have gone differently. After some time, he hears your breathing slow into a quiet steady rhythm, signaling that you’re sound asleep. Then, and only then does he softly speak into the silence of the night.

“I love you too.”

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… sorry?

Thank you to my lovely birthday twin Mads (@toomuchracket ) for previewing the early draft of this!!! Dedicated to you, I hope it’s half as good as your angst <3 <3

#matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy imagine #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 x reader #matty healy x you #matty healy x y/n

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justleaveatnine · 10 days

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fast times and high rollers - matty healy.

working as a bartender on a college program at the palmetto casino, you spend your nights working the floor or bartending private rooms with dealer matty healy. he’s far too old for you, but really, that just makes you want him even more.

masterlist.

wc: 7.7k

contains: age gap, unprotected p in v sex, public sex, fingering, overstimulation, use of sir, he’s a bit mean, excessive amounts of playing blackjack

—

The dry Vegas heat blisters against your skin as you step out of the baggage claim into the outdoors. It's ungodly hot out, and knowing this is the temperature you will be living in for the next few months sends you into a a brief internal spiral. You pull your sunglasses out of your bag in anticipation of stepping into the sun, fumbling as you try to gather all of your luggage. The taxi horns from the pileup of cars blare over the noises of the crowd and the loud industrial fans blowing above you, the only relief from the heat.

You look around the pick-up area for the white branded car you've been told to look for. The chaos makes it hard to identify anything, a bachelorette party behind you squealing and hordes of excited couples pushing through the piles of baggage. You walk further down the line, and quickly spot the white car emblazoned with the electric green logo of The Palmetto.

You hastily walk to the passengers side door and tap lightly on the window. It's a dingy car, clearly more than a decade old. The driver look up from his phone at you and hastily rolls down the window with the crank on the door.

"You here for the employee transportation?" he asks, nearly shouting over the hubbub of the crowd.

You pull the folded yellow paper out of your back pocket, hot wind blowing your hair to the sides. "Yeah, I'm, uh, ID 82913?"

He scrolls through his phone, and clearly finds what he is looking for before stepping out of the car to help you with your bags. You lug your suitcases into the trunk, and nearly collapse with exhaustion into the backseat as he drives you to the casino.

—

"So, here's the main floor. Slots, low stakes games, all the regular fixings." You're being practically dragged through the casino part of the hotel on a tour by an extremely excited and kind waitress named Jordan.

The casino floor is insanely chaotic, filled with the noises of cheering gamblers, loud slot machines, and the racket of the crowds traveling through. Your attention is pulled in every which way as you walk through, almost feeling overstimulated with the sheer amount of action occurring.

Jordan is borderline shouting in order for you to hear her, and you have to uncomfortably sleepwalk to match her energetic pace.

“That’s the main bar, where you’ll be working weeknights. Watch out for the poker tables nearby, drunk gamblers get angry when they lose and they love to pick a nearby target to yell at, unfortunately.” You practically blanche, wondering just what exactly you’ve gotten yourself into.

You’re about to start walking through another row of loud glowing slot machines that seem to be cat themed before Jordan abruptly stops in her tracks. You flip your head around to meet her oddly stern stare, eyes grave.

"Let me just warn you. This place is super super incestuous." That could not have been further from what you predicted her to say.

"Huh?" you ask, incredulously and a little dumbly, to your immediate regret.

Jordan sighs, clicking her tongue. "Yeah, so like, I don't know if it's the alcohol, or just the vibes and everything, but most of the employees of this place have had at least something with another employee." You don't quite know how to respond. You've already walked past more employees than you can count, is it seriously that pervasive?

"You too?" you ask her, eyes wide.

She sighs, dreamily. "Ugh, Derek. He used to be one of the servers with me, but they transferred him over to the sister casino further down the strip. Best head of my life, girl. You don't even know. God, I should really call him."

Before you can react, Jordan spins around on her heels and sets off once more. She keeps walking at a breakneck pace, turning back to face you periodically. "But yeah, super incestuous. So he's sleeping with her, and she used to sleep with him and he’s so jealous." She's pointing at random workers who are walking through the casino as you walk, barely giving time for you to process as your head darts around to follow her hand. "Those two manning that bar used to fuck, and they hate each others guts now. Ooo, and that girl is dating that craps stick guy, but that blonde guy collecting glasses is desperately in love with her."

You nearly stumble into a patron running through the casino, who yells, "Watch it!" You whip your head back to see him sprinting to the chips exchange before turning back to Jordan. It's only been ten minutes and you can't remember the last time you were this overwhelmed.

"Am I supposed to know all this?" you squeak, running after Jordan.

"Oh, this isn't even the half of it, girl! This is just the stuff that everybody knows. Can't have you out of the loop!" You wouldn't have exactly minded being out of the loop, but it might be a little late for that. Now, you're only curious.

"Is there anyone not involved in this insane workplace romance web?" You're near the back of the main floor now, past the dinging slot machines and surrounded only by card tables.

“Trying to stake out where there's no competition?" Jordan gasps dramatically, giggling at the prospect.

"No, god no, I just-"

"Don't you worry, girl. I support the hoeing!" You're too exasperated to argue with her, and simply let her continue.

"There's two guys that I know of that haven't had anything with any of the other employees. That bleach blonde bartender over there, George. My theory is he is in witness protection, he's so weirdly mysterious. We've got a pool on it, actually, if you want in."

The bartender in question in serving an older woman that is clearly infatuated with him, making you smile. He's got yellow-lens sunglasses on, even though it's inside, and moves with such a confident air that it's impossible not to notice. You turn back to Jordan, who's fiddling with some dices on an abandoned craps table.

"Who's the other one?"

"Oh, that's Matty. He's one of the high roller dealers, works in the private blackjack rooms. He doesn't talk much with anyone other than the bartender in his room, and never comes to any staff events. Kind of a buzzkill, if you ask me. He's over there actually, he's the brunette walking towards the hotel connection."

You spot him immediately. It’s hard not to. He's in a black and white suit, the Palmetto's uniform for the high rolling dealers. Brown curls splay across his forehead, bouncing with each step he takes. You can see the glint of a hoop earring in one of his ears, as well as the faint outline of a tattoo on his chest through the white button up. Your eyes follow him as he walks, confident and rhythmic. Jordan's voice piping up distracts you from your unabashed ogling.

"Oh, shit, wait. You're working high-roller rooms weekends, right?" You nod in agreement, trying to remember the schedule they sent you. You're working the main floor weeknights, and in a private high-roller room Friday and Saturday nights.

"Which one?" Jordan asks, head turned towards you.

You pull the battered paper out of your pocket once more. "Uh, the Flamingo Room?" The cheesiness doesn’t miss you, causing you to let out a small laugh. They are throwing money at you to bartend though, so who are you to complain? The summer college program pays far more than any other internship in your field, and the brief stint of bartending you did in first year allowed you to qualify.

"Oh, that's Matty's room! You'll be working with him then. Please tell me if he's got any details on George, I wanna win that pot."

Your eyes watch him travel across the room, fumbling for a cigarette packet before heading out a back door.

—

"So, you're my new weekend bartender."

Matty's stare pierces you from across the room. He's leant against the dealing table, arms folded and confidence radiating off of him. His gaze looks you up and down, and you suddenly become extremely aware of your age in comparison to him. He's at least a decade older than you, experience in the casino clear with the way you watched him handle a table moments prior.

"Are you even 21?" He asks with an eyebrow raised, further twisting the self-conscious knife in your stomach.

"I'm 22, for the record," you tell him, gaze narrowing. "I'm on the summer college program," you say. You're trying to sound authoritative but it comes out more as bossy, which is really not helping your attempts at maturity.

"Hmm." He thinks for a moment before speaking again. "Are they putting you in the Paradise Tower?" he asks, brows furrowed.

"Oh, yeah, I think so," you say, checking the paper in your pocket once more. "Yep, 4th floor, Paradise Tower. Why?"

He chuckles, rubbing his thumb across his upper lip. Your gaze follows it entranced, studying the callouses across his spindly fingers. "That's where they put us when I was your age, back when I did the college program. It was shitty and outdated then, so pity you having to stay there now."

"Have you been here ever since?" you ask him, cocking your head to the side. You can't exactly envision a life in Vegas, the non-stop heart that beats through the city never calming down. You'd get so overstimulated that you would probably be burnt out within a year.

"When you start to get your first round of tips, you won't be too excited about leaving, either. Especially from the blokes you'll be dealing with in here." He smiles, referring to the high rollers room you’re standing with him now. You match his grin, the idea of boundless cash to pay off your hefty amount of student loans an attractive one.

"So," he says, clasping his hands together. "Ground rules. Number one, don't talk to the guests unless they talk to you first. Two, don't be too loud making drinks, and three, listen to me."

Matty’s near dismissiveness catches you off-guard, eyes slightly narrowing. You try to ignore the heat it shoots to your core, his attractiveness turning the regularly demanding commands into something more desirable. Still, subtle annoyance leaks onto your face, and he continues before you have the chance to interrupt him, raising a hand in the air.

"I'm not trying to boss you around or anything, love. It's just the general rules of these rooms, and it's also for you own best. Rich assholes can become even worse assholes when they are drunk and betting tens of thousands a hand. Follow my lead in there, and you won't have to worry about anything going wrong." Understanding dawns on you, realizing just how tense these rooms might be compared to your college bar.

"Got it?" you nod rapidly, eyebrows slightly raised as you lookup at him. He smiles, a devilish quality to it. "Good girl." Your stomach does backflips, heat racing to inflame your cheeks. Has he seriously not slept with any other employees here?

—

"Well, how'd you find that, love?"

It's nearly four a.m. and you've just finished working your first night in the Flamingo Room. Your eyes are drooping with need for sleep, the shift horrifically long. Matty was familiar with the five men who came into the room to gamble, and prepped you on their orders beforehand to ensure you were prepared (two gin Martinis, one Negroni, an Old Fashioned, and a Rusty Nail.)

The only word you can use to describe the men that came into the room that night is slimeballs. They didn't do anything, per se, you thankfully feeling safe behind your bar with their backs to you the entire time. But when the first man walked into the room, you watched his eyes scan your body and linger far too long on your chest for it to be excusable.

It's not a feeling you're unused to working in bartending, an unfortunate side effect of the career that you usually just have to accept. But that doesn't exactly make it feel great, or null the stomach-churning feeling that lasts for ages inside when you catch their eyes leering at your body for far too long.

They paid you no mind for the rest of the game, ignoring your quiet serving of their drinks and replacing them whenever they got empty. You met Matty's eyes briefly when bringing one of the men another Old Fashioned, and the slight worry behind them made your insides flush. You feel relieved that you got paired with a dealer who at least gives a fuck about your well-being. And the fact that he's probably the hottest man you've ever laid eyes on doesn't hurt either.

"Not too bad," you sigh. "To be honest, I was slightly worried when they walked in as Mr. Rusty Nail would not stop starting at my tits," you chuckle, rolling your eyes at the recollection. "But the rest was great, actually. Thank you for those directions, I actually enjoyed kind of blending into the background rather than having the attention on me. Far less stressful than a bar setting. Plus, the several hundred they tipped didn't hurt," you smile, biting.

Matty chuckles, shaking his head slightly. "The tips do tend to null any of the wounds the clientele dish out, you're right about that. If you are ever feeling too uncomfortable though, raise your hand in a peace sign and head out the door behind you. Don't want you getting burnt out from creeps before you can even begin, love."

The thoughtfulness makes your cheeks burn, and you bite your lips to stop from smiling too hard. You hope you're not coming off as the infatuated school girl you feel as if you are inside, stomach cartwheeling every time he flashes you a smile.

"You hear me?" he asks, and you nod in assent.

"Good girl," he hums, sending a column heat down your spine and through your body. You'd do anything to have him continue to call you that, the usually patronizing phrase sending you for a whirlwind.

"I'll see you tomorrow night, yeah?" He reaches out his arms for a hug which you gratefully bound into. You press your face against his chest, breathing him in as his arms tighten around you.

"Yep," you mumble into his chest, the warmth of him enveloping you. He smells like cigarettes and wine swirled together, filling your senses and swirling in your mind.

You fall asleep that night dreaming of nothing but him, dark curls and nimble fingers splayed across the cards.

—

The staff bar tucked away in the basement of the casino is a dingy, putrefactive room. But compared to the manufactured plastic glitz and glam of the rest of Vegas, the dive bar-esque environemnt only accessible through weaving concrete corridors is nearly salvation.

You're stood behind the bar, as you drew the short-stick and got assigned to working the Sunday night party. It hasn't been terrible, however. You've gotten to meet several employees you haven't before over these past three weeks, and you chatted with Jordan for ages before she got caught up drunkenly making out in the corner with that server she told you about who she smuggled into the employees only area.

You're cleaning up some leakage from one of the beer taps with a spare rag when you hear one of the bar stools being pulled out. You look up to see Matty taking a seat, simpering down at you. He's out of his suit uniform, but still in a white button-down that is open enough for you to see the tattoo splayed across his chest. Your eyes linger a little too long to be excusable, and you look up to find his eyes already in yours, twinkling with mirth. Every shift you’ve worked with him has been a losing battle to not ogle him the entire duration, watching him command the room with confidence and natural ostentation.

"How's the shift, princess?" He's clearly tipsy, but no where near enough to be considered a mess. He taps his fingers rhythmically on the counter while smiling at you patiently.

"Wouldn't you rather be over there pestering those other dealer friends of yours?" you gesture with your head to the group of men Matty came from, drunkenly causing a ruckus over in a corner booth.

"Nope," he pops exaggeratedly. "I'm having fun visiting my favourite bartender at the moment." He continues to tap his fingers on your bar, distracting you from finishing wiping the taps.

"Make me something I haven't heard of,” he requests impishly, curls shaking as he turns his head slightly to the side.

"That might be hard, wouldn't an old man like you working in a casino have gone through the IBA list by now?" you ask, coy and roguish.

"Hilarious." He tries to put on an air of annoyance, but you can tell he's enjoying this as much as you are. "Now make me a drink, princess. One without vodka."

"Didn't you ever learn your manners?" You tsk, turning around and grabbing the ingredients you need. "A please and thank you goes a long way, you know," you say, back to him.

You pour your white rum, cognac, triple sec, and lemon juice into a shaker, shaking it once you've added ice. "Oh yeah? I'll keep that in mind then.”You hear his retort from behind, and you're thankful your back is to him so he doesn't see the pathetic grin splayed across your features.

You strain his drink into a cocktail glass and turn around, shoving it towards him. His eyebrows raise before sipping it, thinking for a moment.

He clicks his tongue before speaking. "It's good. Little sweet, but I don't mind it. What's it called?"

"Between the sheets," you laugh at him, biting your lip.

He rolls his eyes with a slight headshake, exasperated. "Nice of you to have me enjoy a drink I'll never want to order again." He takes another sip as you laugh lightly, his eyes mockingly glowering over the rip of the cocktail glass. The effect is nulled by his visible smile peaking out at the corners of the glass.

"Anyone of these drunkards been giving you a hard time, princess?" His eyebrows raise as he takes a sip once more, referring to the full room of intoxicated employees, bumbling around and jeering.

"Nope, you've been sat far away so its been real peaceful over here," you hum cheerily, returning to wiping down part of the bar as you smile to yourself.

"Watch it there, love. I'd say you're far more trouble then I am,” he cuts with a snort.

"I don't know about that," you stop to smile at him, eyebrows raised. "What would all your friends say about you preferring to hang with your twenty-two year old bartender rather than them?"

"There's that trouble," he grins, shark-toothed and venomous. "And I'd tell them to get more entertaining if they want to monopolize my attention any longer."

"You think I'm entertaining?," you hold a hand to your heart, mock-honoured.

He takes a final sip, finishing off his drink. "I think you're a lot of things."

"And what would those things be?" you ask him, head cocked to the side and coyish.

Matty snorts. "Well, trouble, for one," he says, eyebrows raising. "And I'll let you figure the rest out on your own, Ross will have my head if I spend any time longer away from them."

He shoves the cocktail glass back towards you, fingers brushing as you take it out of his grasp and place it in the dish rack tucked underneath your bar. You return your eyes to find him stood, staring down at you.

He rests his forearms on the bar, leaning in close to you. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. "I'll see you later, princess. Don't get in too much trouble, yeah?"

—

It's the next Saturday, and the group booking for the room filed out ages ago. One of the women pulled out her phone and shrieked about some celebrity you haven't heard of being at their hotel, and they left before it even reached midnight.

"You're telling me," Matty says as he stops cleaning up the chips, eyes wide and mouth parted. "That you are working in a high rolling blackjack room, and you don't even know how to play?" He's incredulous, scoffing in surprise.

"I didn't know I'd be working private rooms, okay! I was hired for a bartending job, nothing to do with any of your little card games," you snort as you finish cleaning the last of the few cocktail glasses the group used. You see Matty beginning to unpack the card decks he had placed under the enormous mahogany table.

"Well this just cannot do. C'mere, princess. I'll show you how to play." There's mischief twinkling in his eyes. You sigh with a smile and place the cups in the racks. You grab the Mary Pickford you made for yourself before walking towards him and taking a seat on one of the red leather chairs arranged around the table.

"You've got to be the only person working in Vegas who doesn't know how to play blackjack," he says, shaking his head as he deals four cards on the table, three of them faced up. "Children know how to play blackjack, for fucks sake," he laughs at you as he says it, arranging the cards so the face down and face up pair are in front of him, and the two open faced are in front of you.

"Someone has got to be the exception to the rule," you say, tongue-in-cheek. Maybe not knowing how to play a single casino game before going to work at one wasn't the smartest idea. But sat in the lounger, legs crossed and staring up at Matty as he deals the cards with those long, lissome fingers of his, you've never been more grateful for your past self's negligence.

You take a maraschino cherry off the pick and pull it between your teeth, watching as Matty's eyes lock on your lips with the action. A grin rips across your face, and you lean forward as you place the drink on the table. "So, how do I play?" you simper, placing your elbow on the table and leaning your face against your hand.

"So, your goal is to get as close to 21 as possible without going over, and to get closer than I do to it." His eyes flicker between the cards below and your own, deft hands tapping against the rim of the table.

His hand reaches across the table to tap lightly on the cards in front of you. "This is your hand, which is currently at 15," he says, counting up the five and the jack displayed in front of you. His hand is a two, the other card's identity obscured.

"You'll either say hit me, or you'll stand; taking a card, or keeping your hand as is. What do you wanna try?"

You take a sip of your drink, maintaining his gaze all the while. You return your gaze to your hand one more time before uttering, "Hit me."

He smiles, nose exhaling and lips pursing. He flips a card to reveal a ten, much to your displeasure. "That's a bust there, princess," he laughs, you groaning in annoyance.

He flips over his hidden card to reveal a four, totaling to six. He places another card to reveal a jack, smiling before saying, "And that's a win for the house."

"Again," you cheekily demand, pulling off another cherry with your teeth.

He deals you a four and a ten, himself a visible five along with the hidden card. "What's it gonna be?"

"Well, four is my lucky number, so I'm going to stand," you say, and he shakes his head with laughter.

"You sure?,” he asks, eyebrows raised and face nearing patronization. It only makes your tongue curl, and spurs you on more.

"I'm sure."

He flips his card to reveal a seven, and begins to deal. First, an ace, and then a three, and finally a jack. He groans, throwing his head back, causing you to dissolve into laughter. “Maybe I should start joining the games in here,” you remark, proud of your win.

He sets up another game, clearing the cards off the tables as you tap your fingers on the green carpet. "So, I've heard so much already about the kinds of things that go on with the staff here, that’s it’s all very incestuous, apparently, and how you," you pull the final cherry between your teeth, "don’t play one part in it."

You say, "Hit me," before he can get another word in, and smile when you win another round to his immense displeasure.

Matty sets up another round onto the carpeted table, looking somewhat surprised at your remark. "I don't usually shit where I eat, love. And besides, most of the staff are college kids like you just looking for quick fucks and stories to bring back to their friends in the fall. I don't need any of that," he hums.

"Ooo, jaded old man swearing off love, how adorable," you laugh at him, and he shakes his head in matching laughter without looking back up at you.

"Very funny, sweetheart," he says sardonically. "That’s not exactly love, anyways. And besides, there’s always an exception to a rule, like you said, isn't there?"

Your fingers stop their tapping as you meet his gaze, his forwardness sending knots into your stomach. You bite the inside of your lip as you smile up at him, dark curls framing his face so beautifully. The dim lighting of the private room casts an amber glow on his face, and you can’t help but study every inch of it.

He interrupts your staring with a click of his tongue. “Come here, princess. I’m gonna teach you how to deal.”

You hold his stare as you place your glass onto the table, and carefully walk over the inside of the table where he stands. He backs up slightly when you arrive to allow you to stand pressed against the wooden rim of the table. You feel him approach behind you, his chest warm against your back as he meets you against the table. A breath catches in your throat as he boxes you in, and his hands wrap around you to return to the table.

The familiar smell of wine and cigarettes fills your nostrils, mixed with the whiskey he's been nursing since the group left.

You feel your heartbeat increasing, hammering against your chest as his own pushes you slightly forward against the table.

“Grab the deck, love,” you hear him say behind you, his chest vibrating slightly against your back as he speaks. You reach across the table past his arm to grab the boxed deck and begin to pull the cards out.

You hear him hum once before beginning to speak. "Since everyone else here is so… incestuous… as you put it, have any of the other boys in your college program tried to hit on you yet, princess?"

You deal the cards how he showed you, a dealer's hand for you and the players hand for him. He's got a three and a king, and your face-up card is an ace.

"Surely not if you keep calling me things like that in front of all of them," you shoot back, and he pinches your waist in retaliation.

"Watch it there, princess," he emphasizes the nickname with bright venom dripping from his tongue. "Now answer the question. And hit me." You pull a card from the deck, flipping it over to reveal a seven. Twenty.

You sigh, dramatically. "Well, one of the craps boys, keeps hitting on me on all my breaks."

"Is that right?" You can feel his hand brushing against your lower thigh before resting there, calloused fingers prickling against your bare skin. It stills for a moment, as if to ask for your permission to be there, before traveling slowly upwards. "And I'll stand. Flip your card, love"

You flip the card to reveal an eight. His hand points towards the deck, and you flip one more, a nine. Nineteen. Matty wins. He hums behind you in pleasure, the noise reverberating through your skull and occupying your mind. You begin to set up another game before continuing to speak.

"I won't be going anywhere with him, don't you worry there. I'm just so bored of college boys."

The hand on your thigh freezes. Matty is silent behind you, and suddenly becomes very still. The effect you have on him leaves you emboldened, and you can't help but continue.

You sigh dramatically in displeasure. "I think I just need to stop with them all together. Stick with men who are a little more experienced." His hand travels further up your thigh and slowly moves inwards, dangerously close to your burning core.

"Don't start what you can't finish, princess."

"Why would I need to when you can finish me yourself?" you bite out cheekily, all apprehension long out the window. You hear Matty let out a slight groan behind you, his free hand still boxing you in tightly against the table.

You feel Matty's head lean in closer to your ear, his breath warm in your ear. "Remember when you said you'd listen to me? On the first night?"

You nod, twitching as his fingers move lower to the edge of your skirt, fiddling with the hem.

"Good girl. Now keep dealing cards." His hand slowly makes its way under your skirt, grazing on your skin and forming goosebumps in its path.

You strain to focus on placing the cards in front of you, the task impossible to focus on with his hand traveling so deftly across your skin. Your mind shortcircuits as the callouses on his fingers drag across your skin, tracing patterns on the soft flesh of your inner thighs.

You place one card down, and your hand freezes when you feel his fingers slowly brush across your underwear. You feel him laugh tauntingly into your neck as they travel over the soaked fabric, moving up and down in precise teasing movements.

He presses a chaste kiss against the back of your neck and his fingers continue their ministrations, and slowly leaves a trail of kisses in the direction of your ear.

"Deal me a hand," he whispers, before continuing to nip and suck at your neck. His hands move upwards towards your clit and press meanly against it, eliciting a cry out of you. He begins to rub circles against your bundle of nerves as you slowly reach out a hand to place the cards on the green carpeted surface.

"Matty, please-" you nearly whimper, desperate for him to stop teasing you. His fingers continue circling over your bundle of nerves, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you with each of his motions.

"Shh, love," he murmurs into your ear, the condescension syrupy and sweet. "Keep playing."

You mewl out a noise of affirmation, carefully reaching out to deal the cards. Your quivering hand slowly manages to deal his hand, placing a four and a six to your left. His own hand refuses to let up as the circles he draws on your bud grow tighter and tighter. You pant out a moan as you deal for yourself, revealing an eight.

"Hit me," he says, and before you have the chance to flip the card, two of his fingers enter you. The feeling is so sudden it causes you to cry out, leaning forward onto the table. Matty leans around to your side and bites your earlobe before whispering.

"Did I say," he traces the outline of your ear with his tongue, sending shivers down your spine, "that you could stop dealing?"

His fingers are frozen inside of you, your face clenching in pleasure as you ache for more. "No," you whimper, the shame burning inside your core and loosening your mind, hazy with pleasure.

"No, who," he asks, before nipping at your neck and beginning to suck, surely leaving behind a violent dark hickey. He soothes the mark with his tongue, swirling over the bitten flesh.

"No, sir," you shake your head vehemently. His movements cease, and he instantaneously moans into your neck, his body tightening around yours. The warmth of his neck against the side of yours is intoxicating, and you’re desperate to touch any of his skin.

"Oh, fuck," he chokes out, grip on your hips tightening. His teeth bite sharply into the side of your neck, and moan erupts loudly out of you. "That's right, isn't it? Call me that again, princess."

"Please, sir, please fuck me, I need you,” you practically pant, desperate for him to move his fingers that still lay motionless inside of you.

"And I need you," he punctuates the word with a thrust of his fingers even deeper inside of you. You cry out in a desperate moan as he continues, "to do what you're told. Now be a good girl for me, and deal."

You nod, unable to form a single sentence. As you carefully flip over a card to display a two of clubs, you feel his fingers exit you before thrusting back in. They curl so deftly your arms that hold you up to nearly collapse, elbows aching.

You whimper as you wait for him to make a decision, his fingers inside of you so precise and pulling the most pathetic cries from you.

"What do you think I should do, love? Should I hit or stand?" His voice is so steady, so composed, that it makes you want to scream. You can feel yourself dripping on his fingers, and you bite your lip to stop from screaming when he reaches up to press at your clit.

"Answer me."

Your vision feels blurred, and it has never taken more focus in your life than to look at the cards beneath you. The dealer's hand is still the lone eight, and Matty's hand on the table is resting at a twelve. His actual hand, meanwhile, is thrusting in and out of you. His hands are rough but precise, skilled in the way they draw out the cries from your throat and the tears pooling in your eyes. Your hand reaches out to claw around Matty’s own that’s placed on the table. You dig your nails into his arm, surely leaving behind half- moon indentations. You stare at the cards and try to make a decision, the process slowed by the pleasure fogging your mind and blurring your thoughts.

"Hit, sir, hit," the final word comes out as more of a moan as his fingers return to thrusting inside of you. His mouth moves down to the right side of your neck and bites down violently onto your collarbone, drawing out a near-scream from your mouth. He drags his tongue over the spot as your head lolls back onto his shoulder. Your brows are furrowed and eyes shut tightly with pleasure. His fingers never cease within you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Good decision, love. Seems I haven't fucked you dumb yet, gonna have to work on that." He taps your cheek patronizingly before grabbing your chin between his fingers, and maneuvering you into a kiss. You moan desperately into his mouth as his fingers refuse to cease, curling so deliciously inside of you. His tongue traces your lower lip before biting it, teeth pulling sharply at the skin.

He takes your hand and maneuvers it over the card to flip. Your fingers shake as you reaches out to touch the card. It's revealed to be a king, his plastic face smiling up at you. Matty dramatically groans in disappointment behind you. "Would you look at that, princess, I've gone bust. You've got a chance to win now. Why don't you flip your card over, yeah?" His voice is taunting and demeaning, flaunting his composure over your near wanton state against the table.

Your hand slowly reaches out to flip your card, and a queen of hearts joins your eight. You can feel your orgasm is approaching, the coil growing inside of you so close to bursting. Pleasure travels up your spine, and your vision nearly goes blurry as you get closer to the edge.

"Sir, I'm going to- I, I-"

"Shh," he murmurs into your neck, "Come for me, princess." You shake in his arms as pleasure overwhelms you, washing over you completely. Your grip on reality leaves you as the bliss fills your mind. Your limbs go slack into his hold as he grips you tighter against the table.

You come down from the high slowly, feeling completely out of your body. Matty's hand doesn't exit you, however, fingers frozen still inside of you.

"Another game now, love." You sniffle pathetically, trying to regain the ability to concentrate enough in order to follow his directions. You hum in acquiescence, and you hands shake as you reach out to re-deal another game, desperate for Matty to continue to touch you. His fingers resume their movements once you reach out for the cards again, the pleasure white-hot in your veins.

"Good girl," he murmurs into your neck as your quivering hands begin to set more cards up, and the praise makes your core flutter, eager to please him.

Your dealer's hand is a ten, and Matty's hand is a four and a seven. "Hit me," he says, with a particularly hard curl of his fingers, your head drooping over the table in response as a guttural moan comes out of you. He returns to pressing kisses to your neck, occasionally nipping and laughing at your sensitivity.

You pull out a four with a sob, your second orgasm approaching you already. Fire burns through you as you reach for a second card at Matty's direction, hand shaking to reveal a six. Your breaths increases, and you feel yourself teetering over the edge some more

“Please, I-” he ignores your cries, and simply continues fucking you until you clamp desperately around his fingers, your orgasm practically blinding you.

"And that's a win for me," Matty cockily exclaims as you cum in his in arms, trembling and panting as you try to regain awareness.

"Again," he demands, referring to the large still unplayed deck sitting before you. You can barely take anymore of this, your mind feeling so far from your body.

“How many times-" you ask exhaustedly, already bone-tired and desperate for him to fuck you. “Just fuck me already, sir. I’ve already come twice, please just-”

He tsks condescendingly, shaking his head against you. “What was it you said, darling? Four was your lucky number? I think four orgasms before I fuck you sounds about right then, hm? Wouldn’t want to be unlucky,” he punctuates with a particularly hard thrust of his fingers that causes you to cry out, “Would we?”

Your head drops and nods, relenting to Matty’s demands. "Do you want me to stop?", he asks

You shake your head rapidly in dissent, the idea of him stopping now a horrifying one.

"Cat got your tongue there, princess?" You glower at the table as your head dips low with exhaustion and you groan in desperation. His awareness of his power over you shouldn't elicit such heat burning in your core, but every patronizing word he speaks only makes the fire burn brighter. "Use your words," he demands.

"No, no, please don't stop, sir,” you spit out, desperate for him to continue.

"Then keep dealing," he says with a sharp bite to your neck.

The next few hands he forces you to deal blur together in your mind, the two successive orgasms that filter through them making it hard to conjure a single thought that isn't about Matty and the pleasure he is eliciting from you.

You finally finish the deck, panting and exhausted from the four orgasms he drew out of you. He kisses your neck once more before murmuring against it.

“Do you want me to fuck you now, love?”

You nod your head rapidly, unable to get a word out in your current state. The syrupy condescension in his voice travels straight into your core, and you tilt your head down as you try to get a moment of rest. You feel him back up slightly from you, and you hear the jingle of his belt buckle being undone.

He clicks his tongue in disappointment at your inability to speak, and you feel his hand slowly pushing the back of your skirt upwards. You lean forward onto your elbows, whimpering and desperate for him.

"That's not good enough, princess. I want to hear you beg. Beg for me to fuck you since you're gagging for it so bad. Beg for me to fuck you like I’ve wanted to this entire time. After all,” he leans down on top of you, smirk pressing against your ear, “don’t manners go a long way?”

You let out an obnoxious moan at his callback to the bar, clenching in response to his words. Right before you can speak a response, he stuffs three fingers into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue.

You try to stumble out the words around his fingers, moaning and gagging as they press deeper into your mouth. "Ple-fuck-please, sir, I need you so bad, please just fuck me, I've been so good, I dealt all the cards, please, please-" you gag around his fingers, unable to pronounce the words properly around them.

You can’t finish your sentence before you feel him enter you, and your eyes practically roll back into your head at the feeling. He’s in so deep you can feel it deep in your stomach, and your head hangs against the table as you moan.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, princess. Feel so good around me,” he says as he begins to thrust, hips pushing against your thighs. You whimper against the table, so overwhelmed with pleasure it’s unbearable. You feel like you’re going to black out when he hits your g-spot, and you hear Matty laugh teasingly at the way you clench around him.

“Please, please,” you whine around him, not even quite sure what you are begging for.

One of his hands reaches around to rub your clit, and you cry out in overstimulation as Matty begins to speak. "This is why I don't fuck the pretty little servers like you, love. You just get so needy. Isn't that right? Do you need me?" he taunts at you.

"Not a server," you gasp out with the little strength you have, "Bartender." Your quip immediately followed a slap to your ass, pain blooming from his touch so deliciously.

"Someone's feeling bratty," he hums, moaning at the way you tighten around him in response to the slap. His hips snap against your hips rhythmically, thirsting so deliciously deep inside of you.

"God, fuck, you look so pretty like this,” Matty practically coos in your ear, leaning down against you. “Been thinking about having you like this since you walked in here. Dreamt about-fuck-about fucking you over that little bar of yours, making that perfect eyeliner drip down your face.”

You cry out at a particularly deep thrust, feeling yourself growing closer to the edge once more. You muster as much strength as you can to speak, your head so dizzy with pleasure.

"Thought about blowing you under the table while you deal,” you gasp out, panting against the carpeted table.

He groans in response, the idea of you touching yourself to the fantasy of him an unbearable one. “Yeah, you like that idea? Wanna be a good little pet and keep me warm while I deal for guests?”

You nod eagerly and aggressively against the carpet, whimpering at the thought. Your insides tighten even more as you get closer to the edge. Your moans increase in volume, and your hands claw out to grab onto anything.

“You’d have to be real quiet then, be nice and good for me. Could you do that, princess?” Matty’s hand hasn’t once let up from your clit, driving you insane as it tightly rubs circles into you. You feel his thrusts grow more uneven, and you know he’s about to finish too.

“I promise, sir,” you moan out, the coil forming within you winding tighter and tighter. “I’m on the pill, come inside me, please- fuck- I’m so close, please, please-” you rush out the words as crest over the edge. Your vision goes white as you collapse against the table, coming with a final moan of his name.

He empties inside of you simultaneously with a groan, and he slowly leans down on top of you. You feel his breaths as you try to regain yours, his heartbeat racing against your skin.

You feel Matty slowly pull out of you, moaning as he watches his cum drip down your thighs. His hand reaches down to your thighs to swipe at your wet cunt. You grab his arm as he does so, bringing it to your face and sticking his drenched fingers in your mouth. He throws his head back at the sight with a moan.

“You’re gonna kill me, princess,” he mutters as you hum happily around his fingers, swirling your tongue to clean them off.

He brings his lips down to yours for a kiss, and you nip at his his bottom lip as he smiles against you. He pulls away to catch his breath, resting his forehead against yours.

“Wanna let me see if the Paradise Tower is still outdated?” he asks, breath ragged and the smile audible in his voice.

“Only if you’ll teach me how to play poker,” you smile back.

#i have no explanation for this #matty healy #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty healy writing #matty healy fanfic #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #matty #healy #casino!matty

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justlikemebutsixfootthree · 1 year

Text

the birthday party -

pairing: matty healy x f!reader

content: friends to lovers, explicit consent, george is a good friend, matty eats pussy, safe sex, denise, p in v sex

wordcount: 6787

this blog is 18+. minors, do not interact. this blog is a safe space. no hate or disrespect of any kind will be tolerated. all work is my own. do not reupload my work on any other site without my consent.

a/n: matty healy, you will always be famous <3

maybe it shouldn't bother him as much as it does. after all, it's just another day.

but it's his birthday. it's his fucking birthday, and there are no messages from you lighting up his phone.

at first, matty tried to convince himself that it was nothing. he had woken up and expected an all-caps message, only to be met with the god-awful time of 5:00 am. but it was okay - it was early, so you probably just want to wait - to ensure that he's awake to see your message.

so he waited.

he waited through bleary eyes - surrounded by his concrete walls and his white comforter - until his alarm sounded and jerked him awake.

a rush of disappointment shattered his bones when there was no message from you. no ‘happy birthday,’ no ‘good morning,’ not even a ‘hey.’

but still, it's okay. matty went about his morning, taking phone call after phone call from family members he hadn’t heard from since last year, pretending there wasn’t a hole in his heart where you left a dent. his mom texted him once; something about going over for a party and celebrating his birthday there with his family and bandmates, and that was it.

he spends the rest of the day picking at the pancakes george made him and tries desperately to ignore your silence.

so yeah, it hurts that you didn't text him, and he's starting to think that maybe it's not okay. because you're his best friend, and you didn't even have the decency to wish him a happy birthday.

there's always been something between the two of you; dotted lines that make it hard to walk or see straight whenever you're together, usually bickering about god knows what.

george says you love him. matty flicks his forehead until he drops it.

because how could someone who loves him forget his birthday?

he feels selfish - feels like shit wishing for something other than the health and clarity he was brought up to be thankful for on his birthday.

and you still don't text him.

it's only a couple of hours later when george's air conditioning hits his face with full power, eyes watering slightly with the artificial wind blowing right into his cornea. they’re on the way to his mother’s house, and matty is bracing himself for the onslaught of aunts with their strong perfume and uncles with their disapproving looks. beside him, george hums from the driver’s seat, a clear indication he can sense matty's heedlessness.

"alright, that's it," george says, turning down the music dial until barely audible guitar strums resonate in the car. “you’ve been moping all day. what gives?”

matty shrugs. "nothing, mate."

"bullshit."

george’s eyes are switching between watching the road and glaring daggers into matty's.

“it’s your birthday, and you’re acting as if someone just killed your snake. so i ask again,” george mutters as he flicks on his turn signal, pulling off the freeway to evacuate the sanctum of subdued car horns and merge into the exit lane. “what gives, matty?”

"it’s not a big deal,” he starts, interrupted by the forced chuckle that resounds beside him. he continues when the light turns green, george slowly letting off the breaks as they near his mom's house.

“i mean, i guess it's just, like, i dunno. i thought that—” he cuts himself off, lost in his head. matty stumbles over his words, a mess of broken syllables as he runs a nervous hand through his hair, messing up the mop of curls.

“she hasn’t texted me today.”

it’s rushed, a lick of shame and embarrassment crawling up his spine as the frigidity of the air conditioning meets his neck. the car is cold, chilling matty's bones with gentle fragility until they freeze and shatter like glass. he bleeds shame, every ounce of blood in his body tainted with the reminder that you forgot.

george's breath hitches, and he clears his throat with a fist over his hand as the other one turns them into a familiar street.

his mother’s house appears in his peripheral vision, the front porch light emitting a timbre, yellow glow, and he can see shadows through the large kitchen window.

matty picks at his nails, messing with his fingers as george parks the car. he can feel watchful eyes on him when he stares down at his lap.

george turns in his seat so they’re forced to face each other. “she didn’t text you at all?”

“not since last night.”

he unbuckles his seatbelt and places a hand on the door handle. he's stopped, a tug to his arm keeping him in place and not permitting him to leave the car—leave the conversation.

“hey,” george starts, voice low and with a lilt of concern tracing the lone syllable. “i’m sure she’s got a good reason. she wouldn’t just forget your birthday.”

matty scoffs, shaking his head until strands of dark hair fall in his face, blowing upwards so he can see again. “what reason?”

“i don't know,” he says, all one breath and fidgety when he unbuckles his seat belt. “but whatever it is, i’m sure she has a good excuse.”

there’s a squeeze to his shoulder, warm fingers emitting heat where they touch his skin through smooth cotton.

“you’re too young to be going through a midlife crisis over the girl you love not texting you for twenty-four hours.”

matty doesn’t have the energy to argue, not when he knows that his friend is right.

so instead of arguing, he smiles and punches george in the arm for good measure before they head down the paved walkway to his childhood home.

his mother greets him first, halfway through his third knock because she expected them over earlier. despite the squint in her eyes, she pulls her son into a tight hug, rubbing comforting circles into his back.

“happy birthday, dear,” she sings, muffled by his chest as she stands nearly half a foot shorter than him.

“thanks, mum.” he smiles, moving aside so george can get engulfed in a hug.

he’s missed it here, the warmth that bubbles in his stomach when he’s around his family, a house full of love and people that he grew up with. it’s almost enough to make him forget about a certain someone who still lingers in the back of his mind like day-old leftovers.

almost.

“so!” his mother beams, stepping back and allowing the boys to remove their shoes and step deeper into the house. “everyone is already here, and they can’t wait to sing you 'happy birthday'.”

matty’s led down the hallway, following his mom into the kitchen. a rumble of deep-set voices and squeals call his name, and his head turns to watch distant relatives scramble to pull him into tight hugs.

he kisses his grandparents on the cheeks, hugs his aunt and uncles and tells his cousins that he missed them. they pass him presents like he’s five again, smaller gifts to unwrap now that he’s an adult and no longer asks for life-sized action figures. george joins him, staying close with a timid smile on his face as he mingles with matty’s family. the whole scene coaxes a content sigh to escape his lips, and he relaxes when his mom gives him another hug.

“i got you something too,” she whispers when they pull apart, leading them into the living room and passing him a glass of wine. they sit, lively music wafting through the speakers, and he smiles as he watches george twirl his cousins around. “it’s not here yet though, i’m afraid. you’ll have to wait a little longer.”

“you didn’t have to get me anything, mum,” he says through the bitter taste of merlot.

she waves her hand dismissively. “oh stop it. you’ll love it, i promise.”

he tries to enjoy the party—really, he does. but thoughts of how much better it could be if you were here to enjoy it with him linger in the back of his mind. it’s tough to decide whether he should miss you or be mad at you. maybe he should forget you all together right now but he can’t. not when his brain is growing fuzzy and his cheeks feel warm, patches of crimson surely paint his face, thanks to the glass he downed in one go.

“matty, come do a shot with me!”

with a huff, matty makes his way toward his friend who holds a shot glass nearly overfilled with clear liquid.

george’s grin melts away when he sees him, eyes filled with concern as he hesitantly passes the shot to matty.

“you okay, mate?”

matty clears his throat and mumbles something about allergies and how it’s stuffy in here as cool liquor spills over his fingers. george doesn’t seem to buy it, but he shrugs anyways.

he shakes off the mist clouding his brain and smirks, self-indulgence taking over his dark eyes. he clinks the glass to his friend’s, liquid sloshing off the sides before he tips it back. it burns when it runs down his throat, leaves his tongue dry in a desert of twisted intoxication he knows he’ll regret in the morning.

“shit,” george hisses through his teeth. “‘ forgot that i fuckin’ hate vodka.”

matty laughs, and there’s silence between them for a moment, then, “mate, are you sure you’re okay? ‘cause, not to be an arse, but you look fuckin’ horrible.”

exasperated, matty runs his hands through his already mussed hair.

“i’m gonna go get another drink.”

a calloused hand wraps around his wrist and stops him from pulling away. “maybe you should ease up on the booze,” george says.

“aren’t you the one that was just begging me to do shots with you?”

“that was before you turned into a sad drunk. here,” he shuffles around for a water bottle, “drink this and go get some air—maybe a smoke, too, while you’re at it.”

grinning, matty takes the water from george’ hand with a simple “thanks.”

he sneaks away to the back porch where crickets chirp quietly in the grass—a change from the loud commotion of music and chatter.

lithe fingers bring a cigarette to chapped lips, thumb slipping on the lighter to invoke a small flicker of flames that burn the end of the bud.

with an inhale, matty wonders if his room looks the same as it did that last time he was here; if his brother had claimed any of his clothes or knick-knacks he’d left when he moved out. he wonders if you would find his room childish.

with an exhale, he wonders how his thoughts always seem to trace back to you.

“what have i told you about smoking, matthew?”

“i have a good reason.”

his mom wanders her way next to matty, leaning against the fencepost next to him. “and what might that reason be, love?”

“her,” matty breathes, the smoke from his lungs floating into the distant air. “fuck, mum. it’s always her.” he pauses to take another drag. “she hasn’t texted me all day, and i’m worried about her getting hurt or somethin’.”

denise smiles, and from the corner of his eye, he sees her turn back to the door of the house. he doesn’t follow her motions.

“i’m sure she’s fine, sweetheart,” she says, turning back. “you’ll hear from her soon.”

“but—”

she elbows matty’s side. “no ‘buts’. now, i think you should put that out and come back inside, okay? that stuff is bad for you.”

“soon,” he says, completely ignoring her request, and she sighs, giving her son a final nudge before stepping back inside. matty doesn’t spare her a glance, opting to keep his eyes trained on a black, starless sky.

the familiar buzz of red wine floats through his bloodstream, and he draws another hit into his lungs, filling the void of sadness with grey smoke. he almost thinks he’s hearing things when someone speaks from behind him.

“she’s right, y’know.”

the exhale of smoke comes out in a choked gasp, and his heart stutters, chest tightening.

matty’s scared to turn around. scared to face the cause of his well-being, because there’s no way this can be real. his lip is worried between his teeth, hair falling into his face as he stares at the cigarette laced between his thumb and index finger.

the open wound you left in his heart this morning is sealed by the resound of your voice that echoes through the air.

he doesn’t turn around. you do it for him.

matty’s forced to face you with a pull on his arm, skin tingling where your hand rests. the cigarette is plucked from his fingers seconds after, the stub dropping to the ground where you step on it to put it out.

“hi,” you say, completely and utterly exhausted. “happy birthday.”

the closeness is suffocating.

you’re standing too close but somehow too far away, and matty would pull you into him if it weren’t for the frozen state of his bones.

“hi,” matty breathes, eyes glossy with unshed tears as he stares down at you.

it’s surreal—standing here with the lingering taste of tobacco and merlot heavy on his tongue—the gentle breeze blowing tufts of your hair.

“what are you—w-when did—” matty stutters, mind running a mile a minute, intoxicated brain took over with perplexion. he stops, takes a deep breath, and collects his thoughts. “how are you here?”

“well,” you drawl, shuffling closer to the stunned man in front of you. “your parents bought me a ticket to fly out for your birthday—per george’s request. after that, all i had to do was keep it a secret, hop on a plane, and here i am.”

“here you are?” he repeats. “you had me worried sick. you didn’t text or call—hell, you didn’t even wish me a happy birthday! you can’t—you can’t just waltz in here and pretend that everything is fine when you put me through—”

“matty,” you interrupt, grabbing his hands. “calm down for me, yeah? breathe.”

“no—what? don’t just-”

he pulls away and leans back against the fence. his hands run through his hair, fingers desperately wishing they were holding a cigarette.

“breathe, matty.” you sigh patiently. “how about you give me a tour?”

“can we just … stay here for a while?” he asks, and if there’s tension in the air, it’s ignored. “i just want to make sure i’m not dreaming, or something.”

“you dream about me?’ you tease, crossing your arms to try and shield yourself from the breeze.

dark eyes slowly meet yours.

“all the time.”

he pushes himself off the fence and steps closer to you. the boots he’s wearing give him some height, so he’s looking down at you as his hands move to push your hair back.

“tell me,” you whisper. “tell me what you dream about.”

it’s the urgent tone of your hushed voice that has matty caving—hesitancy swept away with the wind as he gives in, letting his hands trace the sides of your face.

“everything,” he admits, voice quiet and shy. “fuck, love, i dream about doing everything with you. anything and everything you’d want me to.”

you’re silent.

you’re silent, and matty is losing his mind, brain pounding against his skull. he can feel bitter bile rise up his throat, nauseous when he looks back at you—just standing there—lips parted and leaving matty to lie in the grandeur of his own self-destruction.

there’s already an apology forming on his tongue, the fingers that were wound through your hair curling away.

but you step closer and grab his hands, stopping their retreat.

“i dream about it too.”

the words take matty by surprise, the tenderness that coats the revelation alleviating the shake in his hands. he looks at you—really looks at you—and scrutinizes the expression on your face.

he finds no hint of a lie; no hint of cruel duplicity, or fraud. the truth of your words really sinks in when you drop his hands in favour of running the pad of your thumbs under charcoal eyes, ridding him of the hint of tears that start to seep from puffy eyelids.

“c’mon, matty. you can’t possibly be surprised. i mean really, i dropped everything just to see you.” your tone is gentle, but a laugh sneaks its way out of your mouth and curls around matty’s head, leaving him feeling warm.

he rolls his eyes; courage slowly washes over his bones and makes his hands move to pull you in by the waist.

“shut up and kiss me.”

you surge forward, capturing his lips on your own as your hands move from his cheeks to his hair; threading them through unruly curls.

matty drinks in every noise you make, welcoming them as they leave him desperate. the taste of stale alcohol still lingers on his lips, but underneath the bitterness is you; sweet and human.

he would like to pretend that he hears fireworks when your lips part, a mess of bright, colourful explosions littering the sky as he softly licks into your mouth—but that doesn’t happen.

and it’s alright. it’s completely okay because instead of the headache-inducing light and noise, there’s the muffled laughter of his friends and family, the gentle chirp of crickets, and you.

you; gasping into the kiss.

you; your hands tugging gently at his hair.

you; flush against his chest. so close that matty can feel your heartbeat melding with his.

you; jerking away so abruptly his eyes shoot open, flickering over your—now beet-red—face.

the creak of the back door had pulled you away from him, and the sight of george standing atop the welcome mat made you flush.

“um,” he says, shuffling awkwardly. “i just wanted to say ‘hi’, but i think you welcomed her home enough for the both of us.”

matty clears his throat and grins sheepishly at a very shocked george. his cheeks burn red at being caught, but he can’t really bring himself to care—not when you’re finally next to him.

george scoffs, exasperated by his love-sick friends.

“come inside,” he urges, nodding in the direction of the house. “everyone’s excited to see her.”

matty watches as you turn back to him and give a little shrug, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth—and it’s then that he decides that he’s not done kissing you yet.

“yeah. we’ll uh—we’ll follow you.”

he leads you into the house with a hand on the small of your back, and shuts the door behind him, blocking out the sounds of lingering traffic. cheerful voices seep through the walls, and the irony of how he walked in here just a couple hours ago, saddened and heavy because of the girl who’s now looking up at him with only adoration in her eyes is not lost on matty.

“okay, denise is in there laughing about how we all tricked you into thinking the worst, so prepare to be humiliated.”

matty hums in response, staring only at the back of your head as you follow george toward the kitchen. he reaches a hand out, grabs your arm and gently tugs you back with a finger over his lips and a wink.

“mhm,” he sings, leading you slowly towards the stairs. “sounds like fun.”

he doesn’t get the chance to watch as george turns around, already halfway up the stairs with you latched onto his arm.

“you’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me.” george’s exasperated voice is the last thing he hears before he’s crowding you against the wall at the top of the stairs.

his lips are on yours before you get a second to breathe, a bruising hold on your waist as he pushes you into solid plaster. he keeps one hand on you while the other presses the wall beside your head, arm shaky as he leans his weight onto you.

there’s a light push to his chest, and you gasp under him as you pull back. matty has to refrain from groaning at the loss of pressure on his lips.

“my bags,” you pant, “i forgot them outside.”

a breath of laughter ghosts over your lips. “we can get them after.”

“but my clothes are gonna get wet—matty, the grass was wet.”

your words render useless as he leans down to plant open-mouthed kisses on your neck.

“then you can borrow some of mine,” matty mumbles, trailing his way up to your jaw to suck purple bruises into tender flesh.

at the thought of drowning in his clothes, you go lax against matty’s lips; giving in to his desperate mouth.

“okay,” you agree, and that’s all it takes for matty to recapture your mouth and let his hands wander.

calloused, gentle hands trace the curve of your body as lithe hips press into yours. he manages to tear a hand away from you to feel for the cool metal of the familiar doorknob, twisting until the door falls open.

he tugs you in with sweet urgency, his old bedroom cast in soft light, the only luminosity coming from the moon where it seeps through the blinds.

maybe it’s just the heat of the moment, or maybe you don’t care—but matty’s grateful you don’t comment on the bowie posters that grace his walls as he pushes you into the middle of his bed.

you land with a light bounce and prop yourself up onto your elbows, a cocky grin making its way onto your face. “i’ve been here for barely twenty minutes,” you breathe, gasping when matty situates himself between your legs and pushes you higher onto the mattress. “and you already wanna tear my clothes off.”

the brunet dips his fingers under the hem of your shirt, hiking it up just a sliver to catch a glimpse of soft, smooth skin. “wanted to for a while now.”

he brings the hem of the shirt up to your lips. “bite,” he whispers, voice husky.

with the new expanse of skin exposed, matty's practically left breathless. he takes tender flesh between his teeth, laps his tongue at bare and unmarred skin, and sucks until he feels you arch your back and lean into his mouth. his hands trail the expanse of your ribs, feeling the delicate bones under his touch.

marks upon marks are added to your lower stomach, matty desperately trying to leave reminders on your abdomen. his lips work on their own accord, sucking bite after bite up your torso until he lands at the base of your bra. he looks up at you, eyes questioning. laughing softly, you sit up, gently pushing him back onto his knees. dark eyes trace your body, watching as you undo your bra, slipping it off and letting it fall to the floor, along with your shirt.

the man in front of you sits in awe, and lets out a long sigh. “fuckin’ gorgeous.”

you’re not sure if the words were meant for you to hear, but you blush anyways, leaning back and letting your elbows hold your weight.

“do your worst, birthday boy.”

matty laughs, the happy—and somewhat shocked—noise echoes through the small bedroom and causes you to grin. he doesn’t hesitate to drop his head; lips meeting your warm skin, teeth leaving trails of bruises.

you gasp out breathy pleas when matty flicks his tongue over the peak of your breast. “y-your—shit,” you whine, hands landing in the man’s hair, tugging at the curls harshly. “your family is downstairs, matty. what if they—ah!—hear us?"

“don’t care,” he responds, biting softly at the pink bud and rolling the other between his index and his thumb. “want this. want you.”

”fuck. i—okay, okay. you have me, matty,” you moan, pleasure dripping from your lips. “you have me.”

he surges up to kiss you again, newfound fervour in the brush of your lips as he tilts his head to lick into your mouth. you still taste sweet, everything matty could ever ask for.

“you’re gonna have to be quiet,” he whispers, leaning back on his knees and tracing patterns over your stomach, dipping his fingers into the bruised marks just to hear the masochistic whines you let out at the pain. “as pretty as you sound, i don’t want anyone hearing us.”

hearing his words over, matty backtracks, his hand stuttering over your torso.

“i mean, not that we need to like, do anything—i’m not—i don’t wanna force you into—”

your fingers wrap around his wrist, halting his ministrations to give a comforting squeeze to his skin.

“i want to,” you breathe, using your grip around his wrist to drag his hand down your stomach to rest on your belt. “i want this.”

at your words, matty rushes to tug at the buckle, effortlessly removing your belt and tossing it to the side.

your jeans are off your hips in a second’s time, but he takes his time sliding them over your ankles, bending down to leave firm kisses on your inner thighs.

you preen under his touch, and your chest heaves as you breathe, a glistening trail of spit drying on your nipples. when the jeans are discarded and messily thrown in a pile somewhere across the tiny room, matty notices the soaked bottom of your underwear.

tracing a finger up the fabric just to watch you writhe, matty tuts. “and you thought i was eager.”

your hips jerk up in response, surprised by the soft touch. your hands fly to his hair, gripping the curls so tight that he grunts against your neck.

“jesus.”

“sorry! ‘m sorry,” you sob. you manage to relax your fingers, but matty shakes his head.

“don’t stop on my account.”

you feel his fingers slide across your damp underwear, moving to mindlessly palm your thighs as he leaves burning kisses up to where you need him most. your hips rut up, chasing his hand desperately, but matty’s not having it.

“matty, please,” you huff, tugging at his hair to try and get him where you want him.

“stop whining,” he hushes. “‘wanna take my time.”

your soft gasps and whimpers start to get to him though, and he pushes his knuckles against your pussy, forcing a shocked moan out of you.

matty shushes you because while he is completely enamoured by each noise that escapes your lips, he isn’t too keen on one of his family members walking in to see him take you apart.

you relent, and worry your bottom lip between your teeth, while matty returns to the task at hand.

“pretty,” he mumbles, slipping calloused fingers beneath the elastic band of your underwear.

he pulls to gradually reveal your soaked folds and his breath catches in his throat. at the sight, he speeds up his movements and practically rips the cloth off your legs. the material joins the jeans on the floor, and finally, he gets to see you in all your splendour.

“can i taste you?” he whispers, voice shaking. you nod, already out of it as you take the liberty of collecting all of his hair away from his face, holding it back as he works his mouth against you.

“matty, you—” you start, a hand flying from his hair to his sheets. they smell like him, but you’re trying not to think about that—trying not to think about how loopy it’s making you feel—because matty’s holding your hips up, nose bumping against your swollen clit as he tongues at your hole.

“you—” you start again, but the thought gets lost somewhere. disappears as matty does something with his tongue that makes you gasp. “jesus christ—” you huff, chest rising and falling quickly.

you get your words out before you can forget.

“fuck,” you sigh, arching your hips into his face and tightening your fist in his hair, “you look good like this.”

the praise goes straight to his head, and he’s groaning. nodding his head into you, hitting a sweet spot and almost immediately, the hand in his hair pulls him up.

“i don’t wanna cum yet,” you say, quiet because you have to be—taking account of the people downstairs. “so just, go easy on me, okay? you’re surprisingly good at this.”

“surprisingly?” matty retorts, raising an eyebrow.

you don’t have time to respond before he runs his teeth against your clit, and chides, “brat,” before tightening the grip his fingers have on your thighs, pushing the digits into your skin before shaking his head from side to side. you see black, your eyes clenched closed as you try and pull your thighs together, but matty pushes them open, desperately lapping at you.

his jaw aches as his mouth moves, but your pleasure is all he knows. even though you asked so nicely for matty to not yet make you cum—the question is nothing but a distant memory in the back of his mind.

he flattens his tongue and guides it up, sliding across your slit before enveloping your clit in his mouth and sucking—forcing a strong, white current to wash over you. your hands shoot up to cover your mouth as you arch into his mouth, breathlessly stuttering his name as you come.

can’t talk, can’t speak.

the feeling is too overwhelming, too all-consuming before the come down eventually starts and words are coming out, your body shaking with the effort to stay quiet; muffled whimpers sounding behind tight fingers.

you hitch your hips up, and matty’s moving with them, basically getting onto his knees to keep you close. “holy fuck,” you breathe, looking down between your tits to where he’s kissing away your slick, only letting go when you shove your hands down between your thighs, nerves shot and sensitive.

“mmh,” you whimper, clamping your thighs together, trying to calm yourself down.

“you with me?” he asks, tucking his damp curls behind his ears. you have to laugh. have to laugh all of this pent-up emotion out as you brush stray hairs from your face.

“yeah,” you nod breathlessly. matty kisses you with a smile and you taste yourself on him. his features go goofy when he raises a brow and asks, “good?”

“fucking amazing.”

“good,” he says again, then rolls onto his back beside you. he’s unbuttoning his shirt, saying, “i aim to please,” when you’re crawling your body up his chest and kissing the shock away from his face.

“oh fuck,” he curses, fumbling to grab a hold of you. you slide your fingers onto the side of his head and taste yourself, mixed with the feel of his swollen, curving lips as he smiles against you. desperation sweeps over you, and you cup a hand over the bulge in his pants, grinding your palm down, and matty has to focus really hard to not give into your touch.

regrettably, he pries your hand away, bringing it to his mouth and kissing each one of your fingers with sentimental ease. “wanna fuck you,” he mutters, playfully biting at your ring finger until you laugh and pull your hand away.

“come on,” you drawl, moving to sit directly on his bulge. “it’s your birthday. don’t you want me to blow you?”

you have a point, matty supposes. his birthday is supposed to be the one day of the year when he gets to be selfish, and what kind of person would he be if he passed up the opportunity to feel your lips around him?

but you’re his gift. tasting you and making you cum from his mouth alone is a better present than he could have ever asked for, and matty thinks he can afford to be greedy tonight.

but to him, being greedy isn’t fucking your throat until pretty tears fall down your cheeks—he can do that another time. greedy, to matty, is taking another orgasm from you, just so he can hear the way his name sounds when curled around your tongue.

he makes quick work of slipping off the mattress and taking off the white button-up and trousers, leaving him in only his boxers.

“i’m not lettin’ you suck me off.” he smirks.

“what? why not?” you move to the edge of the bed, a look of confusion dancing on your features as you run a finger up matty’s exposed thigh. “don’t you want me to?”

it’s hard not to give in when you tease the waistband of his boxers, the light chatter rumbling from downstairs a distant memory as he loses himself in the feeling of cold fingers slipping under the elastic band. leaning forward, you press leisurely kisses against the brunet’s torso.

he allows you to mouth at his abdomen, welcomes the gentle bite when you pull skin between your teeth; a swirl of possessiveness ravishing deep in his bones when he realizes that you’re is trying to match the heart-shaped hickeys that taint your own body.

matty breaks out of his trance when you roll his boxers down until the cloth lies in a pile around his ankles. goosebumps rise to his skin and he can feel his legs begin to tremble.

before you have the chance to take his cock into your mouth, matty takes hold of your hair, and gently pulls you back.

“i said you’re not blowin’ me,” he mutters, leaning over your body until you’re forced to lay flat on the mattress, legs dangling off the edge and chest heaving at the proximity. “i know what i want for my birthday, and it’s not that.”

with a fluid movement, he flips your positions and settles against the headboard, letting you settle on his lap. his hands explore your body, nails occasionally scratching you—making you shiver.

“i want you. i want you as mine, and i want you to ride me, right here.”

matty laughs at your wide eyes, brushes sweaty hair out of your face, and relishes in the feeling of your bodies pressed against each other. he’s painfully hard, and every time you shift just a fraction of an inch, it tugs a shaky breath from his throat.

“alright,” you say, pressing a chaste kiss to matty’s lips. “do you have any condoms then?”

his hand reaches out to his bedside table. “in the drawer.”

you lean to grab it for him, and matty’s kissing you the entire time. over your chest, collarbones, shoulders, and neck as you push around his drawer, saying “you have so much shit in here.”

he turns to look. turns back to your neck. “in the back,” and he’s kissing you again, palming your ass. he slides his hands lower and bumps them against your sensitive clit, making you gasp, clutching onto the wood.

matty fucking laughs.

you shake your head. “you’re an arse.”

“you’re very distracting,” he admits.

you finally find the box, and with a packet in hand, you look down to where matty’s cock lays on his stomach, a bead of precum leaking onto his abdomen. “shit, you’re big.”

matty smirks, cocky. “think you can take it?”

huffing, you slide the condom down onto him slower than necessary. his cocky smirk dies immediately when you suck your cheeks together and allow a pool of spit to spill from your lips.

“gonna try,” you say, slicking up matty’s cock with a thick coat of saliva still partially strung to your lips, the friction slow enough for him to buck his hips and try to fuck your fist to get needed stimulation.

“tease,” he manages to choke out before you sink down onto him, hips flexing back so he slides all the way in. as soon as you bottom out, matty groans long and hard, and his head falls into the crook of your shoulder.

you don’t let him know when you’re ready, only lifting yourself up so matty can feel the drag of his cock along your insides, gasping as pleasure clouds your mind. shaky limbs help you in slamming back down, the legs of the bed creaking with the force of your bodies colliding.

”fuck,” matty moans, hands scrambling to find purchase on your waist. you sound fucked out already, blissful sighs breathed into matty’s hair. “you okay?”

you sit up again, the tip of matty’s cock catching on your folds before you lower yourself again, stuttered curses leaving your mouth.

“mhm, m’fine. y-you’re just,” you sob, trailing off and rolling your hips forward, letting matty’s cock grind against your sensitive bundle of nerves. you swallow, the sound resonating in matty’s ears as he aids your movements with a firm grip on your waist. “big.”

matty’s ego swells and he pulls you down hard on his dick, making you feel just how big he can be. it causes you to shake your head quickly.

“fuck! n-not so fast, please.”

“oh baby,” he soothes, palms sliding to grip your ass, and he uses his hold on you to fuck up into you, keeping a simple rhythm—cock hitting a part of you that makes you sob. makes you collapse against his chest, and you stuff your head into his neck and just take it.

“there?” matty asks with a twinge of something sadistic. “want me to fuck you there?”

“yeah, yeah, please—close, matty, ‘m so close.”

to try and lessen the noise, matty grabs your face and pulls you down into a bruising kiss. he swallows every sound, loving the way you struggle to kiss him back as your legs tremble.

“close already, huh?” he whispers against your lips, drinking in every soft moan that escapes your throat.

and it’s meant to be playful, something that he can tease you about later—but with the way his name is repeated in a fucked out voice, he’s sure he’ll forget to do that later.

so he relents, fucking into you with calculated thrusts, hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

your thighs ache, and the edge is so close all you can do is take what he’s giving you and whine his name pathetically.

it hits you all at once.

a white-hot heat reaches up and grabs you and you clench so fucking tight around his cock that matty falters.

he’s losing his goddamn mind. head tilted back against the headboard, he’s trying to hold back pathetic whimpers, but when your eyes roll to the back of your head and your lashes flutter shut, matty lets out a sob as he comes, rutting his hips into you as your body shakes.

your body shakes with overstimulation as matty moves you against him, milking his orgasm and running sharp nails down your sweat-ridden back.

after the comedown, you breathe out a sigh. matty’s kissing your neck. gently pecking at the hot skin, before spreading his kisses over your jaw, towards your mouth.

“how was that?” he asks, tracing a calloused finger over the marks that litter your body. they turn a deeper shade of purple when his touch lingers for too long, and he grins as you squirm in his grasp.

“i think you already know,” you quip, frowning.

“maybe. but i wanna hear you say it.”

you don’t dignify him with a response, instead shaking your head and lifting yourself off his cock, wincing at the sudden emptiness.

“cold?” matty asks. you nod and curl into yourself as he gets up to rummage through his old closet.

once you’re fully dressed, in clothes albeit a bit big on you, matty helps you stand from the bed and pulls you into a hug—your first proper embrace since you’ve been here—and rests his chin atop your knotted hair.

you hum into his chest, wrapping your fingers behind his back and trace swirls over his bare skin.

“i’m glad you’re here,” he says, pressing a kiss to your crown and pulling back to find his pants. “i don’t know if i actually told you that, yet.”

“i kinda figured you were—what with how fast you stopped crying when you saw me.”

“hey,” matty points an accusatory finger at you, but there’s no malice behind it. “you can’t blame me for bein’ upset, i thought you forgot my birthday.”

together, you fix the pillows and smooth over crumpled sheets, returning the room to the way it was before the kisses, the sex, and you.

“matty, when have i ever forgotten your birthday?”

before leaving the room, you try to smooth out your hair, carding a hand through matty’s as well so it isn’t too obvious what you’ve been doing for the last hour—though you’re sure george has a hunch.

the minute you step into the kitchen, with matty close behind, you see george down the rest of his beer and make his way over to you.

“so,” he drawls, a shit-eating grin spread across his face as he eyes you two up and down. “what have you guys been doin’?”

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trumanbluee · 4 months

Text

the only time i feel i might get better - matty healy

minors dni !! this is 17+ nsfw material !!!

content: you get sick at matty's and he takes good care of you <3

word count: 4610

warnings: mention of vomit, oc is on her period :( , a bad ending, and matty being very very darling.

a/n: hi!! i know i said i wasn't going to post again for a bit but i think this is so cute and its just sitting in my drafts!! enjoy ( and pls reblog if you do! ) :)

She groaned in her sleep, stirring slightly as she felt another cramp tear through her stomach, the ache travelling down into her legs as she tucked them to her chest, brows furrowing at the sudden pain. She hadn’t slept well all night, spending an hour of it with her head in the toilet, Matty holding her hair back and rubbing her back softly, bless his heart.

Her heart dropped at the thought of him having to see her in that position, retching what little food was in her stomach, up. They were a relatively new couple, having been dating for almost 6 months, and, of course, she’d had her period around him, but she’d never gotten it at his place, and never felt as sick as she did right now around him either. She felt horrible, half from the pain in her slightly puffy, bloated, lower belly, and half from the embarrassment of him seeing her like this.

Fluttering her eyes open, she saw that Matty’s side of the bed was empty and, upon further inspection with her outstretched hand, he’d been up for a while, the sheets a crisp cold feeling compared to the warmth of her blanket cocoon. She sighed, wondering if he’d been able to go back to sleep at all after the nights events, before her thoughts of uncertainty were interrupted when he tiptoed into the room, obviously under the impression she was asleep, holding a tray of pancakes, orange juice, a cup of coffee, and a vase of fresh flowers.

He stopped when he turned towards the bed, noticing her eyes peeking out from behind the fluffy duvet, and smiled softly, head tilting to the left as her asked her sweetly, “Morning, baby. Feelin’ any better today?”

This earned him a firm shake of her head as she sat up in the bed, lip pouted slightly to show him her discontent. He cooed, placing the tray of food in front of her on the bed, ensuring the legs of the miniature table were stable before he sat down on the other side of the bed, planting a soft kiss to her temple.

“Don’t have to eat it all if you don’t want, honey, I just wanted to wake you up with something nice after you had such a horrible night.” He said, sitting cross-legged next to her on the bed. He pointed to two little white tablets that lay next to her orange juice. “Brought you some Panadol too, baby. Make sure you eat at least a little before you take it, don’t want you getting sick again, yeah?”

She nodded, “Thank you so much Matty,” She croaked, throat still sensitive from the acidic bile she’d thrown up in the night, “I’m sorry about last night.”

His eyebrows raised, face scrunching in disbelief as he tried to process what she’d just said. He moved closer to her on the bed, hand coming to rest on her knee above the blanket she’d wrapped herself in.

“Sorry?” He tutted, shaking his head, “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about baby, what'd you mean ‘sorry’?” His lips turned into a slight frown, disheartened at the fact that she felt the need to be sorry about being sick.

“Ju-Just, you havin’ to stay up with me… I just feel a bit bad that I ruined our night, I guess,” She spoke sheepishly, noticing the disappointed look on his face as she spoke.

“Oh sweetheart,” He cooed, moving to place the breakfast tray on the floor, before scooting close to her on the bed, pulling her into his chest, one hand rubbing her back in a light rhythm, the other combing through her hair. “You don’t have to say sorry, ‘kay? It’s my job to look after you. Don’t ever apologise for being sick, baby. It happens to everyone.”

He felt her nod against his chest, and he stopped his fingers carding through her hair as she looked up at him, thinking twice about leaning up to kiss him as she realised she hadn’t brushed her teeth yet this morning.

Almost as if he was reading her mind, he shook his head, laughing to himself softly.

“Baby, really?” He chuckled, brushing a little bit of sleep from her left eye with the soft pad of his thumb as he did so, “ You wanna kiss me, you can. I think we’re way beyond worrying about morning breath, don’t ya’ think, darlin’?”

She blushed, surprised that he could read her so well, shoving her face into the soft fabric of his white shirt, earning another chuckle from Matty, the sound rumbling in her mind and warming her insides, affecting her probably more than it should have given her in her ill state.

She detached from his chest, fishing the tray of food up off of the floor beside her, and placed it on the bed, before leaning into Matty again, his right arm wrapped around her as she picked at the sweet blueberries that decorated her pancakes.

She sighed contentedly, sipping on her orange juice as she lay, listening to Matty’s steady heartbeat as he sat beside her, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger lazily. She’d be lying if she said that this side of Matty didn’t turn her on, his need to comfort and protect her rising to the surface in a similar way as it did after he’d been particularly rough with her in bed. The idea of him taking care of her a particularly good one in her mind.

She felt a familiar heat pooling between her thighs as she sat beside him, glancing up at him occasionally as he typed on his phone one-handed, most likely making note of lyrics he’d thought of, his brain constantly moving 100km an hour. She watched as his slender thumb glid smoothly across his screen, pressing the keyboard expertly.

‘This shouldn’t turn me on so much.’ She thought, biting her lip lightly as she shamelessly observed him, now sitting up further in the bed to gain a better view.

She blamed it on her period. Sure, Matty was hot, and, God, she’d fuck him 10 times a day if she had the stamina, lord knows he probably did, but getting turned on by typing? That’s pathetic.

Finally, he saw her out of the corner of his eye, lower lip between her teeth and cheeks a light red as she watched him. He raised an eyebrow, turned his head to face her quizzically.

“What are you looking at?” He smiled at her and she blushed, quickly averting her eyes to the half-eaten pancake in front of her, picking at it delicately.

He laughed softly, “Going shy on me, baby?” he asked, bringing the arm that was wrapped around her shoulder up to her hair, ruffling it playfully, before leaning down to press a firm kiss to her cheek.

She tucked herself deeper into his side, having once again discarded the tray of food onto Matty’s bedroom floor. He wrapped his arm around her once more, giving her a tight squeeze.

“You okay, honey?” He asked softly, looking down at her as she lay on his chest, tracing her finger softly on the front of his t-shirt, “Feelin’ a bit clingy today? Is that it, huh?”

She nodded, moving impossibly closer to him, wrapping both her legs around his left, her arms wrapping around his bicep, clinging to him like a koala.

He chuckled softly at her, peering at her from the corner of his eye as he watched her cling to him desperately. His attention turned completely towards her however, when he heard a small whimper sound from next to him, at the same time as she’d fidgeted in her spot, causing her sensitive clit to lightly brush the side seam of his sweatpants through her thin sleep-shorts.

His eyes shot down to her, fearing that she was having the same horrible cramps she experienced in the night.

“You okay, baby? Tummy hurting again?” He asked, concern evident in his tone.

She was embarrassed, not wanting to admit that the sound was out of pleasure, not pain. So, she nodded, eyebrows creasing together as she looked up at him.

It was insane how well he could read her. From the second they met, a couple of months before they’d started going out, it was like he could see into her mind and knew almost everything she thought and could anticipate what she was going to say next.

That’s why looking up at him was a huge mistake on her part. He knew as soon as he looked at her he knew that she was lying, and he thought he knew why.

“We’re not lying now, are we sweetheart?” He asked earnestly, looking into her eyes as he spoke.

“W-what? Why would I lie?” She said, not expecting to be caught out so soon.

He raised his eyebrow at her, expecting her to have admitted her lie, “Oh, okay… so just now, when you wriggled around for a second, and I felt your cunt on my leg, it was just a coincidence that you made that little sound at the same time? Is that right?”

She flushed red, face turning to dig into his arm to hide, embarrassed at being read so easily, once again. She let out a muffled whine, annoyed both his teasing, and her horniness.

He sat up from the bed, unlatching his arm from her grasp to face her.

“Baby,” He cooed, “want you to use your words when you feel like this, ‘kay? Want you to tell me what you want.”

She nodded, still covering her flushed face, now with the duvet in place of his bicep.

“I just wanna make sure you’re feeling better after last night, honey. Don’t wanna hurt you or anything, y’know?”

He looked torn. Torn between his restraint and not wanting to take advantage of her in such a vulnerable state, and his wanting to give her everything she wants on a whim.

An idea popped into his head, and he stood from the bed, reaching down to peck a quick kiss to her forehead, muttering a ‘be right back’ before exiting the room.

She sat in his bed, awaiting his return as she sipped on the now lukewarm coffee he’d brought her. But it wasn’t very long before he came back, having discarded his shirt and sweats for reasons unbeknownst to her - though she wasn’t complaining, she could spend hours tracing the outlines of his tattoos - especially his ‘We Are Kings tattoo - whether that be with her eyes, fingertips, or tongue.

He walked over to her, boxer shorts hanging low on his hips, and flipped the duvet off her, reaching his hand out for her to take.

“C’mon baby,” He pulled her up, “ran us a bath.” He patted her on the bum softly as he walked past her and out into the hall. She followed dumbly, brain foggy from the tooth-rotting sweetness of their morning in bed together.

Stepping into the bathroom, she saw that not only had he drawn them both a bath, with bubbles in it, which she knew he didn’t like, but had meticulously placed candles around the edge of the bath.

She could’ve cried at the gesture, and she almost did, eyes growing blurry before she blinked the tears away quickly.

Matty stepped into the bathroom behind her, kissing her on the side of her cheek, then neck, as he reached for the bottom of her (his) shirt, pulling it over her head softly, before tugging her pyjama shorts down. He helped her step into the warm bath, holding his hand out for her to balance on. Once she was in, and he’d made sure the water wasn’t too hot, he tugged his boxers down his legs before stepping into the bath himself, setting himself behind her so her back rested against his chest.

She sighed in content as he brought his large hands up to her shoulders, massaging her upper back soothingly. She leant her head back against his shoulder, Matty retracting his hands from her shoulders to wrap them around her, rubbing her arms up and down soothingly.

He lent down to kiss her on the cheek, instead meeting her lips as she quickly tilted her head to meet him. Meaning for it to be a quick peck, he was surprised when she deepened it, running her tongue along his bottom lip teasingly.

He pulled back, hand resting on her jaw as he guided her lips away.

He sighed, “Baby… don’t make me be the bad guy,” he frowned, not wanting to tell her a strict no, but also not wanting to hurt her whilst she was in her particularly vulnerable state.

“Please,” she pleaded, un-slotting her legs from between his beneath the bubbles to squeeze her thighs together desperately.

He shook his head, shooting her a pleading look, “Honey, I just don’t want you to hurt yourself or to be sick again… I promise, once your period’s done I’ll do whatever you want me to, baby.”

She furrowed her brows in frustration, annoyed at his refusal. Of course, she couldn’t be that annoyed, he was only trying to ensure her comfort and safety, but this didn’t matter in her mind, not when she was this horny. What was she gonna do if he didn’t give in to her? Finger herself to no avail? They both knew that wouldn’t work, and she knew that Matty was the only one who could satiate the need in the pit of her belly.

She spun around in the bath, being careful not to spill any water out of the bath, before pushing away from him slightly to see him better. She huffed, whining “It’s not gonna hurt, promise.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, only now beginning to grasp just how desperate she was, watching as she crossed her legs, heeling digging against her clit harshly, causing her to hiss, wincing slightly at the sensitivity.

She sighed in frustration, pouting slightly as she looked at him with puppy dog eyes.

“What if– what if I said it would make me feel better? I swear, baby, if it doesn’t feel good I’ll tell you to stop.” She pleaded, pulling her lower lip between her teeth.

He eyed her carefully, thinking about it carefully. It couldn’t hurt to try, right?

He sighed, lips tugging into a smirk as he finally nodded, ushering for her to resume her previous position, between his legs, back pressed against him.

He leant down to whisper in her ear, brushing some hair away from her face as he spoke, “Make sure you tell me the second it hurts even a little, okay darlin’?”

She nodded, leaning her head back against his chest, lingering a soft kiss onto his chin.

He traced his hands up and down her thighs beneath the water, her legs automatically widening like muscle memory. He laughed breathily in her ear at her eagerness, before sliding his right hand to her core, pressing light circles to her clit as he planted soft kisses along her neck, her having tilted it to the side to grant him further access.

She moaned softly, bringing a hand up to play with the chocolate curls at the nape of his neck, tugging softly as he began to tease a finger around her entrance, keeping his slow rhythm on her clit.

“Feel good, honey?” He spoke softly into her ear, not slowing his teasing motions, but not speeding up either.

She nodded, brows furrowed as he slipped the tip of his index finger inside her.

“Use your words, baby. Need to hear you say it, ‘kay?”

“F-feels good, Matty, promise.” She stuttered out, his fingers speeding up slightly on her clit for a millisecond, before it returned to its original speed.

“Good girl,” he murmured in her ear, pushing his index finger into her cunt completely, her head slamming back to meet his chest as he curled it expertly.

Her hand that wasn’t occupied with Matty’s hair emerged from the water, where it had been gripping her thigh, and she placed it on her left boob, swiping her thumb over her nipple delicately and squeezing the soft, meaty flesh around it.

She arched her back as Matty prodded a second finger into her, curling it as he had the first. As she arched further into his chest, she felt Matty’s hard cock against her back, and teasingly wriggled against it.

He groaned, fingers speeding up as they fucked in and out of her, his hand that was rubbing her clit now came up to brush her hair out of her face, before he flicked her right nipple playfully, ripping a guttural sound from the back of her throat as he returned his hand to her clit, rubbing fast circles over it with his middle and ring finger.

He felt her cunt tighten around his fingers, thighs slamming together to stop his hands from retracting.

He pressed his plush, pink, lips to her ear, pressing airy kisses along it as he breathed, “Gonna cum for me, baby? Yeah?” He felt her become impossibly right around his fingers, and she moaned loudly as he said, “Gonna feel so much better afterwards, baby. C’mon, give it to me.”

Matty fingers stilled inside her as she came, eyes squeezing closed and toes curling as the water in the bath sloshed around them, her loud moan echoing around the bathroom. He waited for her breathing to settle slightly before slowly pulling his fingers out, the water in the bath cleaning them off.

She flipped herself over carefully, legs wobbling slightly as she straddled his right leg, her boobs planted flat against his chest. She reached up, planting a soft kiss to his lips, whining softly against them as her clit grazed his leg when she pushed herself up.

Pulling away from her lips, Matty tutted in faux annoyance, rolling his eyes playfully.

“Still not done, baby?” He asked, smoothing his hand over her hair and then resting it on her cheek as she looked up at him,

“No,” she confirmed, half-mooned, lidded eyes peering up at him.

He sighed, “What am I gonna do with you, huh?” He asked playfully, “Too horny for your own good.”

She whined as she shifted herself further up his body, his rock hard cock laying flat against her slit as it rested on his stomach. He lay back against the steeper end of the bath, hands on both hips, thumbs drawing shapes on her delicate skin.

She wriggled her hips slightly, his cock bumping over her clit multiple times before she rose to her knees, almost slipping on the slippery bottom of the bath, luckily being caught by Matty’s large hands on her hips again.

She laughed softly, looking up at him as she did so, seeing him biting his lip softly to keep in his laugh, the rumbling of his chest betraying him. She slapped his stomach playfully.

“Hey!” She scolded, “Don’t laugh at me,” She said with a fake pout on her face.

Matty cooed, laughter still rumbling in his chest as he spoke, “Aw, sorry honey, it's just, when I said I didn’t want you to get hurt, I didn’t mean slipping over in the bath and dying.” He giggled as he spoke, and she couldn’t help but grin at him, pouncing onto him to plant a sweet kiss to his lips, before pulling away.

Her brows furrowed and index finger pointed at him as she reprimanded him, trying her best to keep her face straight as she spoke, “Okay! No more laughing,” Her eyes narrowed at him accusingly, “back to sex.”

He nodded stiffly, hand coming up to his head as he saluted her militarily, firmly repeating her previous statement.

She giggled softly, lifting her leg up with help from Matty, before shifting herself on top of him completely, his hard cock trapped between her sticky cunt and his firm belly. She groaned as she rocked back and forth slowly, before pushing herself up slightly, grabbing the base of his cock, tapping it on her clit a few times before she pushed it into herself, sighing in content as she sunk down, the full feeling in her tummy satiating the desire she’d been holding there all day.

He groaned softly, brows knitting together as she sunk all the way down onto his cock, her clit brushing against the groomed pubic hair at the base. His hands rested on her hips, rubbing shapes softly as he helped guide her up and down on his length. She was so tight around him, clamping down hard when he moved a hand from her hip down to rub her tender, puffy clit.

She moaned breathily, back arched and head thrown back as she bounced on his cock rapidly, water splashing around the bath and onto the floor. Her right hand rested on Matty’s ‘We are Kings’ tattoo, providing her with leverage to move quicker, and her left hand wrapped tightly around his wrist, nails digging into his Mortal Kombat tattoo as her orgasm approached her.

Matty felt her hips faltering slightly, and her thighs began to shake, causing him to tighten his grip on her hips, holding her still as he slammed his hips up to meet hers. She whined loudly, his thick cock filling her completely, slamming against her cervix with every unyielding thrust.

“Feelin’ good, baby? He asked breathily, panting slightly, his curls falling in his face, sticking to his slightly damp forehead.

She responded the only way she could through her foggy, fucked-out brain, squeezing his forearm impossibly tight and keening loudly, before her mouth fell open in a silent scream.

He continued his relentless pace, bringing them both closer and closer to cumming. His brows knitted together in concentration as he tried to keep his pace consistent, but he was struggling. She was so fucking tight, squeezing him like she was afraid that if she didn’t, he’d somehow disappear.

Thankfully, he could tell she was close, her lower lip pulled between her teeth and cheeks rosy, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t had to hold his orgasm since the second he’d slipped into her. Something about his cock and her cunt fit so right, he could probably cum just at the thought of it.

Matty looked up at her through the mess of wet curls in front of his eyes, “Need you to rub your clit for me now, ‘kay honey?”.

She immediately obeyed, bringing the hand that was wrapped around his wrist to rub her clit at a harsh pace. She cried out, hand faltering slightly at the intense pressure building in her lower belly.

She was so close, she just needed something, anything, to push her over the edge, and almost as though Matty read her mind, he leaned forward, attaching his mouth to her left breast, swirling his tongue around and biting lightly at her perked up nipple.

The hand rubbing her clit and rapid hip movements halted as she felt Matty, whose head now rested on her shoulder, still inside her, groaning loudly as he came inside her, rope after rope of his sticky cum coating her walls. She wailed, eyes rolling back into her head as the tightness in her stomach finally released. She leaned forward to bite Matty’s shoulder softly, tears streaming down her cheeks at the intensity of both her orgasms.

She slipped her arms out from between their chests, wrapping them tightly around Matty’s neck before pressing her head into his neck, sighing contently.

Matty smiled softly against her, lifting the hand that still rested on her left hip to rub her back gently.

“Water’s gone all cold, sweetheart,” He said, slightly muffled by the delicate skin of her shoulder.

She shrugged lazily in his arms, murmuring back a sweet, “M’cozy.”

“Y’cosy?” He bit back a soft laugh at her lovely voice, “Not gonna be so ‘cosy’ when you get a cold, honey.” He continued rubbing her back, cooing inwardly when he heart a soft sniffle beneath him.

“How ‘bout this, baby, let me get out, and I’ll go get your clothes, get you nice and dry, and then we can go back to this exact position in my bed… That sound good?”

She nodded weakly against his chest, and that's exactly what they did. Quickly pulling on a new pair of sweats, he remembered he’d laid out some boxers and an old sweatshirt of his on the bed before he’d gotten in the bath, and he was particularly grateful for it now, grabbing the pile off the bed, and a towel warmed from the dryer, before speed-walking back to the bathroom. He knocked softly before walking in, wanting to be safer than sorry, and heard a soft hum from behind the door. A sign to enter, he assumed.

Walking in, he saw that she was still in the exact position he’d left her in, knees tucked to her chest, with her chin rested against her knees. He cooed, putting her new clothes on the basin before helping her stand in the bath, opening the warm towel and wrapping it around her body, her hands poking out to keep it wrapped around herself as he scooped her up, setting her down to sit on the lid of the toilet.

Grabbing the clothes off the basin, he slipped the soft grey sweater over her head, and pulled his boxers up her legs, pressing a kiss to her forehead once she was dressed.

She murmured a ‘thank you’, to which he responded by kissing her again, this time on her lips, before picking her up again, placing a hand on her left knee, pushing it to wrap around his waist, before doing the same to her right.

Keeping her steady with a hand on her bum, he walked the few steps to his bed as quickly as possible. He held her up with one hand as he used the other to pull back the covers, before carefully crawling into the bed, being sure not to disturbed her comfort in his arms as he did so.

Wrapping the soft duvet around the both of them, he looked down at her to see her smiling up at him. He beamed back at her, dimples visible in his cheeks, before leaning down to press a soft kiss to her puffy lips.

She sighed in content, pulling away from the kiss and resting her head on his shoulder again, nose nuzzling against the soft skin of his neck. He smiled to himself, before picking up his phone from the bedside table, checking his notifications quickly before he opened Instagram, scrolling aimlessly through his reels. He swiped upon a particularly funny minions meme, pushing air out of his nostrils in a half-laugh, before angling his phone down to show her. He looked down to watch her reaction, his favourite thing in the world being to see her laugh - it was automatically a great day for him whenever he was the one to coax a giggle from her - but instead saw she was asleep, lips parted slightly, and eyebrows relaxed.

He smiled fondly down at her, using the arm she was laying on to rub soothingly up and down her arm. He clicked ‘Save’ on the meme, telling himself to remember to show her later, before he opened Safari, logging into Twitter, or ‘X’ now, - ‘so fucking stupid’ he thought - looking to see what fans had to say about their new show, ‘Still… at their very best.’

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floras-imagination · 2 months

Text

guitar hands 🎸✌️- matty healy x reader

summary: You can no longer hide the longing obsession for your best friend matty's hands... word count: 3.8k warnings: 18+ smut, fingering authors note: It's been ages since I've written a fanfiction, so this one might be a bit rusty. I hope you enjoy it, though.❤️ Part 2

"I can't do this anymore!", you gasped as your best friend Matty opened the door.

You walked in quickly as he opened his mouth, to greet you, but you cut him off before he could say anything, leaving him standing in the doorway, staring at you in surprise.

"I will never date anyone ever again!", you turned around, looking at a very confused Matty who was still holding the doorknob in his hands.

You pointed your index finger in the air to emphasize your words, "And this time I really mean it, so don't you dare laughing!", you frowned furiously in his direction, in a way that Matty finds terribly cute. It's a facial expression you often make when you're mad and Matty can't ever hide his little smirk when he sees you like that. But this usually makes you even angrier, which Matty doesn't mind because, obviously, he loves it.

Sometimes he even teases you a little bit to see that fuming, adorable glance of yours. But he always chooses his words carefully to make sure he doesn't hurt you with anything he says.

You threw your black bag in the corner before plopping down on the couch in his living room, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Still frowning, you focused your eyes on the floor in front of you.

He closed the door and slowly made his way over to the couch. His hair was messy and a few strands of his curls hung over his forehead. He looked a bit drowsy, like he'd just woken up from a nap.

"Well... hello, love.", it was finally his turn to speak. His voice sounded low and sleepy.

He rubbed his left eye, before placing the palm of his hand on his cheek, "It's nice to see you...", he continued.

You didn't say anything.

He sat down beside you, admiring you with a big smirk on his face. Suddenly, he seemed less and less tired. You could literally see the sleepiness leaving his body as his smirk grew wider and wider. In his head, he counted down the seconds, well aware that his silly smile was going to drive you nuts in less than five seconds. One, two, three, four...

"What?" you spat at him, turning your head to your right to face him. "Can you please stop doing that?" you asked, finally relaxing the muscles of your forehead.

"Doing what?" he giggled back at you. The "what" sounded more like a "wha". You've always had a weakness for his strong British accent. Hearing Matty talk gave you a weird feeling inside your lower belly, a feeling you've been trying to ignore ever since you first noticed it.

Matty and you had been best friends since year 9. You met him on your first day of school, just a few days after you and your family had moved from New York to Manchester. After the teacher introduced you to the class, Matty offered to give you a tour of the school. You were extremely grateful to have such a friendly classmate as Matty, and the fear of spending every break alone promptly vanished as he never left your side during breaks, welcoming you into his circle of friends.

You must admit you found him attractive, and he became even more appealing over the years. But he never made any moves that could suggest he wanted more than friendship, so you kept convincing yourself that this wasn't what you wanted either. You somewhat accustomed yourself to the idea of never getting closer to him, which made it easier to live with your hidden feelings. It has been ten years now, and sometimes you were so adept at denying your feelings that you even started to believe the lies you told yourself. In the meantime, you also had a few boyfriends and situationships where you completely forgot about your feelings for Matty due to being preoccupied.

Sadly, each of your relationships turned out to be exceedingly toxic, which made it difficult for you to focus on anything else. You constantly worried about not being enough or being too much. Days without arguments and tears were extremely rare, but Matty was always there for you.

"Oh come on, you know what I mean"

He was about to say something again, but you didn't let him.

"Looking at me like that when I'm mad. It's not funny, Matty! This is a serious situation!"

"A serious situation? Oh, okay. Well, you already said that a few weeks ago, when you came home from your date with that other bloke... Wait, what was his name again?", he paused for a moment as he touched his chin, looking up at the ceiling, pretending to think. After two seconds he gave up, because he really didn't remember the boy's name.

About 10 months ago, your boyfriend of two years broke up with you. It was a tough time for you, but Matty had been incredibly supportive. He let you sleep at his place on nights when you didn't want to be alone, which was almost every night for about a month and a half after the breakup. You cried a lot, and your best friend held you throughout the entire night, calming you down and making sure you had someone to talk to. The two of you shared a few restless nights during which neither of you got much sleep. However, cuddling was nothing new or special since you've been doing this ever since you became close friends. Matty has always craved cuddles from you, especially during movie nights or casual hangouts. You didn't read too much into it, presuming it's a normal thing best mates tend to do, but little did you know that he's been hiding his feelings as well...

When you eventually started to feel a bit better, Matty encouraged you to download some dating apps because he said something like 'the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.' That's also how the singer tried to get over his crush on you. He hooked up with numerous girls over the past years, desperately trying to feel something similar to the affection he feels in your presence, yet each trial remained unsuccessful.

You decided to give his advice a shot, and it was actually an excellent way to distract yourself from your aching heart. Though you didn't have much luck with your dates, you were at least able to get over your ridiculous ex.

"Anyway," he shrugged, "It doesn't matter."

"I don't remember his name either," you said dryly, still not averting your gaze from his face. Matty immediately turned his head to the left, now looking into your eyes as both of you burst into heavy, heartfelt laughter.

"Come here, darling..." he laughed, raising his left arm to pull you into a lovingly sweet hug.

He loved having you around and spending intimate and funny moments like this one with you. Seeing you heartbroken and sad broke his heart into a million little pieces. Lately, he's been struggling a lot with his self-control, not knowing how much longer he'll be able to keep his longing feelings for you a secret.

As you lay in his embrace, head resting on his soft, comfy chest, he snuggled his nose into your freshly washed hair, which smelled like a huge field of spring flowers.

"You wanna tell me what happened?" he mumbled against your head.

You were now completely relaxed, feeling happy in the lovely arms of your friend. "The date was horrible," you laughed, starting to tell your story. "We met up for dinner, and he was talking about himself the whole time! How he goes to the gym every single day... and it was just gym, gym, gym... and then he asked me if I did any sports, and I said no, and then he was talking some kind of bullshit again... but I wasn't even listening anymore at this point," you tittered before continuing, "Then I wanted to order some ice cream for dessert, and then he told me how unhealthy sugar was..." you couldn't stop yourself from laughing.

"No, really?" Matty laughed, still holding you tight. "What did you say then?"

"Nothing. I just grabbed my bag and left."

Matty threw his head back, roaring in laughter. "This is my girl. I'm proud of you," he breathed heavily. "I have ice cream in the freezer. You want some?"

You immediately jumped up at his words. "Yes! Please!"

He got up from the couch, preparing you a bowl of ice cream in the kitchen.

He strolled back to the living room, carrying the cold bowl in his hands. You found yourself lost in your thoughts, admiring his large, delicate fingers. You called them guitar hands, since you've seen plenty of other guitarists having these kinds of hands, but Matty's have been your favourite. The mere thought of his agile fingers touching your neck or thighs caused shivers, leaving your whole body covered with goosebumps. In your dreams, you imagined them slowly unbuttoning your jeans, gently sliding into your panties to...

You briefly shook your head, forcing the end of this forbidden daydream, after staring at Matty like you've just seen a ghost.

"Are you alright?" he questioned, throwing a rather puzzled glance at you.

"Hm...what?" you uttered, shaking your head once again. "Yeah, yes, I'm fine. I was just... nevermind," a slight chuckle left your lips, masking the huge amount of shame you felt.

"Honestly, why was I even mad?" you snickered, trying to change the topic as he handed you your much-needed dessert. "This is just so hilarious. But anyway, I meant what I said earlier. I won't go on any more dates," you licked the spoon delightfully, "I'm done. From now on, I'm going to enjoy my single era alone."

For a very brief moment, a smutty thought crossed Matty's mind as he saw your tongue gliding over the back of the spoon you held in your small, soft hand. He pushed the thought away quickly.

"Whatever makes you happy, love. I'm just glad you're finally over your ex. You were too good for him. You deserve so much more than that," he declared, fantasizing about being the man by your side, knowing you well enough to meet all your unique needs.

"Yes, I know. I don't know what I saw in him," you agreed. "But let's just forget about it, please."

He smiled, pulling you into his arms to place a peck on the side of your head. The Netflix logo popped up on the big flat screen in front of you as Matty turned on the TV. "You wanna stay with me tonight?" he asked his best friend needily, in a romantic, cuddly mood. It had been a long time since your last sleepover, and he was desperate to have you near.

Your right cheek was already pressed against Matty's chest as you were sleepily nestled in his hug, mumbling your answer "Guess you already took that decision for me, didn't you?"

"Yep," he stated, resting his head on yours. Though he couldn't imagine anything better than lying there with the one person he loved, his gracious smile was tinged with melancholy, as he couldn't shake the doubt that you would never reciprocate the depth of his feelings.

--------------------------

You found yourself waking up alone in the soft embrace of Matty's bed, the night still cloaking the world outside. With a sleepy sigh, you shifted beneath the covers to get up. The door stood slightly ajar and the enchanting sound of a guitar drifted into the moonlit room.

You opened the door, following the echoing noise of music that came from the living room. Matty was sat on the couch with a guitar on his lap, wearing his blue nike sweater. His messy curls tangled all over his forehead, making him look so effortlessly handsome in the gloomy warm light of the fairy lights hanging from the bookshelf.

He was so deeply focused in playing, he didn't even notice you already stood in the living room. Seizing the moment, you took the opportunity to observe him, particularly captivated by the way his hands deftly fingered the chords on the guitar, moving with such grace as if they were dancing in silent harmony with the music.

He looked up to see you standing in front of him, adoring your dozy appearence as he stopped strumming the strings of the guitar.

"Morning, sleepyhead", he greeted you in the usual flirtatious way. "I couldn't sleep. Wanted to work a bit on that new song. Was it too loud?"

"No, it's fine. It sounds good. Can I listen?"

"Course you can. Sit down", he demanded with a grin on his face as he continued playing.

You loved the sound of Matty's new song and even though you tried your best to concentrate on the rythm of the music, you couldn't help yourself from staring at his hands again. The way his fingers nimbly glided over the fretboard, made you think about all the other things these supple hands could do to you. A sinking feeling of guiltful embarassement was spreading inside your stomach. You hated having these lustrous thoughts while sitting in front your best friend.

While you were still submerged in your shameful thoughts, Matty slowly emerged from the trance he typically falls into when he plays the guitar. His gaze drifted over to you, curious about what you were thinking about the new piece. He observed you for a moment until he realized you were absentmindedly fixated on his left hand.

Recalling a similar situation from earlier that day, he recognized the same expression on your face as when he had brought you the bowl of ice cream.

He stopped playing, causing you to look at his eyes as your consciousness returned. "Is anything wrong with my hands?"

"What? No, why?", you raised an eyebrow, snickering nervously. "What could be wrong with your hands?"

"You've been staring at my hands again!"

"I don't know what you're talking about. When did I stare at your hands?"

"Well, just now? And earlier when I gave you the ice-cream?"

"I haven't!"

"You have! And it's not the first time I caught you doing that..."

"I was just wondering which chords you used", you declared, visibly annoyed.

"You're such a bad liar."

"No, it's true!", you tried to defend yourself.

"Ah, so you were staring? "

"I wasn't!", your voice grew louder and louder. You weren't angry at him but at yourself for not being careful enough. What if he finds out about the feelings you'd been trying so hard to hide all these years? What if your friendship ended right now, right here, in this night? The enormous weight of fear and sadness settled like a lump in your throat, making it hard to swallow. You had to swallow though, since you already felt tears coming up that needed to be hidden at all cost. It was impossible for you to gulp without making a noise as the lump of woe was already way too big to be swallowed in secret.

"Gaslighting...", Matty teased in a lighthearted manner instead of being serious or mad. He knew he was right, especially now that you seemed so offended by his question.

"Okay, that's enough. I'll go home", without hesitation you bolted upright from the couch.

Matty immediately reacted by grabbing your wrist with his right hand, while still seated on the couch, holding the neck of the guitar with his left one. You turned around to face him as he was looking deep inside of your eyes. Contrary to your expectation he was still far from being furious. You caught a glimpse of him still holding the D chord as your eyes darted around. His thumb rested on the e string, tightly gripping the guitar's neck.

"It's quarter past midnight. You're not going anywhere", he stated with a slight chuckle, his playful demeanor both infuriating and comforting you. He endeavored to soothe your frayed nerves, but his touch and gaze left you feeling uncomfortably giddy, leaving you unable to think straight. You swallowed hard, meeting his piercing stare.

As Matty's intense gaze locked onto yours, he felt the floodgates of longing burst open within him. No longer did he bother to conceal his desire.

'Now or never', he thought to himself, 'do it, you muppet!'

With another firm grip on your wrist, he summoned up all his courage, guiding you towards him with a sudden movement as he finally crushed his lips onto yours. After years and years of dreaming about this exact moment, it now became reality. And it felt even better than both of you could have ever imagined. Setting the guitar aside, he placed it to his left on the couch, drawing you closer. Pressing you gently against the cushions, he positioned his body on top of yours, eagerly seeking your lips again.

In the next thirty minutes you were having your long awaited make out session, filled with lots of wet and fiery kisses along with tender, passionate touches.

No words required, Matty was overjoyed and now well aware of the fact that you returned what he felt for you. Even though Matty didn't mention a single word, you knew it too.

"I love you so much, baby", he confessed, right before he started to work his way down your neck, placing gentle kisses on your soft skin, "I've been meaning to do this for ages"

"I love you too, Matty", you whispered, still not knowing if you were awake or dreaming.

As he was passionately devouring you, he could feel your body trembling while lust was written all over your face.

"I didn't expect you to have such a dirty mind, though.", he smirked against your neck.

"What do you mean?", your voice was shaking.

"You haven't answered my question yet"

"Which question?"

"Why you're so obsessed with my hands...",

"Matty please...", you whined.

"What?", he asked as his lips were still clung to your neck, "Tell me what you want me to do with my hands"

You gulped as feelings of overwhelming embarrassment came flooding over you again.

He slowly moved his hand from your back over your chest, sliding it down your belly, causing you to shiver even more. He stopped at the button of your jeans, resting his hand on your waist as he peeked up to lock his gaze with yours. With fluttering eyes you glanced down at him, wondering why he stopped. The intense craving for having his fingers inside of you became unbearable.

While Matty was grinning from ear to ear, finding pleasure in torturing you with his teasing touches, he raised an eyebrow at you.

"Please, Matty... I...", you stuttered, still not being able to speak properly.

"Tell me, love"

"I...", your words came out as a faint whisper, "I need you. Matty, please..."

"Where?", he whispered back at you.

"Inside me...", you finally gave him the words he wanted to hear, not caring about another wave of shame that was crashing all over you.

Not waisting any more time, he unzipped your jeans, slowly making his way into your slip. By the time his soft fingers reached your clit, you closed your eyes, throwing your head back in deep pleasure. A heavy moan left your mouth, as you were electrified by his heavenly touch that you've been craving so desperately.

"No, no, no, no, no!", he complained, "I want you to look at me."

The inability to move made it impossible for you to follow his command.

He tightened the grip between your legs as he repeated his order, "I said look at me!"

Continuing his teasing game, Matty was about to pull his hand back out of your pants, due to your disobedience, but you immediately stopped him by grabbing his hand to keep it in place. "What are you doing?", you questioned, wanting him to continue what he started.

"Uhm.. pulling my hand out.", he answered casually with a shrug, pretending it wasn't part of his little game. His plan worked out immediately when you looked at him with that cute, furious frown on your face.

"No! Why?", you protested.

Matty leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear, sending shivers down your spine as he whispered "Because only good girls deserve to be fingered by Matty Healy."

"But..."

"And you aren't one", he gently pecked the skin of your neck again.

"I am", you moaned in response to his soft kisses.

"Don't think so. If you were, you'd do what I say"

"Please Matty stop teasing me now! I can't take it any longer"

"Hmm... seems like someone's being really needy...", he kept on playing with you, "will you be a good girl for me now?"

"Yes, Matty. Yes, I will", you answered impatiently.

"Then look at me.", he said as he carefully put his hand back between your legs and this time you were following his command, being the good girl he asked you to be, though it was definitely not easy for you to keep eye contact with him.

"Now you are being a good girl. I want you to keep looking at me, okay? Will you do that for me, darling?"

You nodded in response, "Hm... yes."

All of a sudden he pushed his middlefinger inside you, causing a loud moan from you.

"That's what you were thinking about when you watched me play guitar, isn't it?", he gently whispered in your ear.

"Maybe...", you admitted between your lusty moans.

"I knew it.", he smirked, "Couldn't quite believe it though..."

"Hmm..", you hummed as he continued his skillful work with his fingers, beaming you into another dimension of reality.

While listening to your ravishing moans he kept on talking, "My best friend is a dirty slut. Unbelievable. But I'd be lying if I said i didn't think about you every time I wanked.", he winked at you with a dirty smile, roughly jabbing another finger inside your dripping wet pussy.

"Matty, I... I think I...", you stammered, having difficulties to breathe.

"Yes baby, cum for me, please", he permitted, but you were already collapsing in heated pleasure as you eventually broke the eye contact, letting your head fall onto his chest, gasping for air.

With his free arm, he hugged you, pressing your body tightly to his own. He gave you some time to calm down while you were catching your breath, before he slowly pulled out his fingers, bringing them up to your mouth, so you could lick them clean. "If that was part of your phantasies too...then...", he shook his head with a radiant smile on his face while you seemingly enjoyed sucking your juice from his elegant guitar hands, "...like... who are you? And what have you done to my best friend?"

"Shut up, Healy!", you laughed after letting go of his fingers, "and cuddle me!"

You snuggled yourself into his loving embrace, but Matty had other plans....

"Nah... later, love.", he told you with hungry eyes, "I'm not done with you yet."

Part 2

#matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #matty healy smut #matty the 1975 #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #fanfiction #fanfics #smut #the 1975 smut #matty x reader #matty healy fanfiction #imagine #matty healy imagine #guitar #guitar hands

219 notes · View notes

byyourside28 · 3 months

Text

Hit Me

Boxer!Matty x Reader

WC: 13.7k

Warnings: Matty is annoying/confusing asf, Toxic, Smut (m receiving oral, fingering, choking? Degrading, unprotected sex, begging, one or two smacks, very much dom Matty) Extremely long for no reason

Summary: The one person who you hate most on this fucking planet agrees to teach you boxing/self-defense.

A/n: I’m only reuploading fics I wanna do part 2 of <333 Maybe more idk

“Why don’t you just let Matty train you?” George voices just as Matty strides back into the living room, nursing a cold beer. His jaw is clenched, and his expression is one of pure annoyance I’ve ever seen him wear. Charli looks more hesitant than ever, George’s face is impassive as ever.

“G…” I trail off, stepping forward in front of him, “I can’t even be in the same room with him without wanting to gouge my eyes out, why would I subject myself to that torture voluntarily?” I cross my arms and glare at Matty, who seems unfazed by my hostility.

I’ve been wanting to get into boxing for a while now, not just to get in shape, but also to channel my anger and frustration into something productive. You know, to release the pent-up emotions that have been eating away at me for years. Instead of getting shit faced at the pub or smashing my fist into a wall, I figured learning to box might be a healthier outlet.

But Matty being the one to teach me? I rather eat glass.

The asshat and I always had a tumultuous history, to say the least. From childhood squabbles to teenage rivalries. We were always competing, whether it was for grades, attention, or even breathing the same air as each other. We just don’t click and never will.

“And I resist the urge to puke every time I see your face.” Matty answers instead, his gaze flicking briefly to mine before looking back to George. “What’re you on about?”

“Oh please, you're one to talk with that train wreck of a face. I'd rather stare down the barrel of a loaded gun,” I shoot back, my words dripping with sarcasm.

“Fine, but can I at least hold the gun?” Matty retorts, rolling his eyes. “Leave the clever comebacks to the adults.”

With furrowed brows, I look away from the stormy eyes to George, “Still think it’s a good idea?" He isn’t answering me though. His eyes are downcast, completely ignoring anything I’m saying. “George, are you even listening to me?" I snap, frustration simmering beneath my words.

“Stop with the screeching,” Matty answers for him again. “You're clearly giving him a headache.” He takes a sip of his beer, seemingly unbothered by the tension brewing in the room.

I huff in exasperation, my arms dropping to my sides. “This is ridiculous. I don't need him to train me. I can find someone else who won't make me want to tear my hair out.”

George finally looks up from his thoughts, his gaze shifting between me and Matty. “Both of you, stop it,” he says firmly. “He literally owns his own gym and has been training fighters for years. Who’s better to teach you?”

Charli clears her throat and speaks up for the first time since Matty re-entered the room. “Babe, he has a point.”

My frustration boils over as I throw my hands up in the air. “I don't care if he's trained the entire world, Charli! There has to be someone else out there who can teach me without making me want to strangle myself!”

“Feelings mutual, sweetheart.” Matty smirks, taking another leisurely sip of his beer. “And don't worry, I'm an expert at pulling sticks out of asses. And judging by how jittery you are, you could use some of my expertise.”

“I’m not jittery.” I argue, and Matty smirks slightly before dropping his gaze down to my body. My own eyes follow, huffing out with annoyance. Just like he had said—I’m fidgeting. Balling my hands into fists repeatedly, so tightly that my nails are definitely going to leave crescent moons into my palms, only to release them for a second before digging them back together.

“Whatev—shut up. I’m fine. I wouldn’t be all ‘jittery’ if you weren’t here, constantly pushing my buttons,” I retort, my voice dripping with irritation.

A silent question etched on his face as Matty's eyebrow arched upwards as he raked a hand through his gelled hair, “Oh, is that what this is about? Little ol' me driving you crazy? Well, I must say, it's quite entertaining.”

He sinks into the cushions of the oversized armchair next to mine, spreading his legs wide and settling into a comfortable position. His cold beer sits on his lower thigh, condensation dripping down the bottle and creating a small puddle on his black jeans.

Matty sighs like I’m genuinely an inconvenience, ��Just let me train yo–”

“Shut up!” I cut him off, crossing my arms over my chest. “You know what? Fine. If that’s what it takes to shut you up, then you can train me. But just know, I’m doing this purely out of spite and not because I actually want to learn from you.”

I can tell he’s trying to control himself, which to be honest I’m actually surprised to see. I had expected him to lash out or at least tell me to watch how I spoke to him, but he didn’t. He just clenched his jaw and closed his eyes briefly, nodding after standing completely still for two heartbeats. “Thank you.”

I swear to god you could’ve heard a pin drop. “Wha...?” Charli and George’s expression matches mine: wide eyes, furrowed brows, lips slightly parted. “Did you just—could you repeat that? Let me record it.”

“Piss off,” Matty rolls his eyes, but I can’t help notice how his lips are threatening to turn up in the slightest at the corners of his mouth before he’s rolling his tongue inside his cheek to suppress it.

“Right, okay...” I nod, clearing my throat. “So when do you wanna do this?”

“What about tomorrow morning?” Charli suggests, leaning back into George, crossing her ankles.

"So soon?”

I watch as Matty’s adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows roughly, the line between his brows deepening with each inhale. “ Fuck ,” he hisses, finally opening his eyes to find mine, “okay, okay. But I swear to God. You better liste—”

“I’ll listen,” I reiterate, rolling my eyes.

“Tomorrow.” Matty says lowly, and I open my mouth to argue again but per usual, he’s cutting me off, “Tomorrow you meet me at the gym. We will go over everything; the basics, the techniques, and most importantly, your attitude. And trust me, princess,” He says with a smirk, “your attitude is going to need a lot of work.”

It’s my turn to close my eyes. It had to be tomorrow? The first day at my new job? Seriously? “Is that a problem, princess? ‘Cause if it is, don’t think I’m agreeing to this a second time.”

“No, no. It’s fine.” I rush out, leaning from the arm chair I’m sitting in. The second my hand is reaching for his bicep, his eyes glancing down, I’m dropping it back to my side. No touching , okay. “I... I’ll figure it out. I’ll call my boss tomorrow morning, and just tell him I have a family emergency—”

And like a rubber band being snapped back, George is jumping from the couch and rushing towards me. “Boss? No fuckin’ way! You got the job?” A wide smile graces his face, completely ignoring Matty next to me me as he knocks his long legs into Matty’s knees and wraps his arms around my neck in a tight hug. “Why didn’t you tell us? Oh my god, we have to celebrate!”

“George…” Matty drones, rolling his eyes as George ignores him and only squeezes me tighter. “George. There is more important shit to party over. Celebrate later, yeah?”

I pat George’s back, giving him one last squeeze before pulling away. “He’s right for once. The job is just a shit position as a therapist’s receptionist anyways.”

“Shut the hell up,” George frowns, “that’s a step in the door. Any success is one to celebrate! I’m going to get you so fuckin’ wasted...” The mischdvious glint in his eye and the smirk on his lips nearly has me grateful when Matty shoves him away, muttering something under his breath but I can’t catch it.

It almost doesn’t sound like English.

“Come on,” Matty juts his chin towards the front door as he sets his beer on the sidetable and stands up, “say your goodbyes. I’ll drive you back to your place since it’s on the way to mine.”

He doesn’t wait for any argument as he pushes past George, his footsteps fading until I hear the door open and then close. I huff out a breath, standing and turning to my friends with a slight frown, “So much for a fun night, huh? Pray we crash and the car hits his side.”

“There’s always next weekend,” Charli hums, wrapping her arms around my neck to pull me into a hug that’s tighter than I thought physically possible from her. She is obviously fit, but there’s definitely some muscle hiding in there. “Don’t let him ruin your mood,” she offered as a way to lift the frown on my lips, “knock him in the balls or somethin’. That always works.”

George hisses, sitting back down onto the couch and I peek over her shoulder, holding back a laugh when he subconsciously lowers his hand to cover his crotch. “Definitely works.” He mutters, shuddering his shoulders like he’s remembering the exact thing happening to him.

“Hasn’t said that kind of thing since,” Charli purrs into my ear, giggling as she pulls back and skips away from me and to George. “Oh stop whining, I barely tapped you then.” She chastises with a playful smile, sinking down onto his lap to wrap an arm around his shoulders.

I can hear George mumbling that ‘ it didn’t feel like that ’ as I shake my head and make my way back into the foyer.

“Haven't got all night, princess.” I hear Matty complain, opening the front door to pop his head through. “Let’s fucking go—I’ve got shit to do.”

If my eyes could roll all of the way back into my skull, they would have.

His hand is gripping my wrist and pulling me away from the house. He only smiles when I huff out in annoyance, rolling my eyes. The wind nipped at my skin as we stepped out onto the porch and down the small set of stairs onto the sidewalk.

As soon as my feet touch the solid ground, Matty’s hand is snatched away like I had burned him and he’s stalking off towards the blacked out SUV. Chrome letters spell out ‘Range Rover’ and I can’t stop the incredulous scoff that falls from my lips. Just another thing to add to the list of why he’s arrogant in my mind. Who needs such a flashy car? Only people who need to prove somethin-

“Are you comin’ or just going to stand there like an idiot all night?” Matty barks the question, snapping me out of the trance I was in. He plops down into the driver's seat as I follow suit and hop into the passenger side.

The car hums to life as he turns the switch, bright headlights illuminating the street in front of us as he speeds down the asphalt in silence. I take the opportunity to peek over at him as the darkness of the night envelopes us, He’s angry or worried about something though, that's obvious.

Not that it’s surprising, he seldom doesn’t look like this; his jaw is always tense, knuckles flexed as he grips tightly onto whatever he’s holding- this time being the steering wheel as he rounds the corner of a street.

“Stop staring at me,” he rasps, his voice gravel through the silence. His accent is thicker than I’ve heard before, and it sends a shiver down my spine. I make a pretend effort to look away, but can’t help sneaking a glance back at him.

I subconsciously wonder if he tries to hide it when he’s around others. As he pulls to a stop light, his eyes find mine, lips pressed tightly together with a brow raised in my direction. “What is it? Do I have somethin’ on me?”

My cheeks tint, and I shake my head, quickly looking forward. His gaze stays trained on me, even if I couldn’t see him out of my peripheral, I could feel it. Tidal waves crashing over me causing goosebumps to rise on every inch of exposed skin. Or maybe I’m just delusional and it’s the air nipping at me from the window that Matty has almost completely rolled down.

“Quit staring at me ,” I shoot back, wrapping my arms around myself, “and could you roll the damn window up? It’s freezing.”

With the switch of the red light to green, Matty is taking back off and turning to face the road. The entire ride that’s left is spent in silence, save for the rumble of tires and Matty’s sliver rings that he subconsciously knocks against the hard leather of the steering wheel every other minute or so.

He never rolled the window up, either.

I had never been more relieved pulling into my place. As soon as the car was shoved into park, I was jumping from the passenger seat and racing towards the front door as I fumbled in my purse for my set of keys. I didn’t even know I was being followed until Matty’s low, raspy chuckle catches my attention. He is leant against one of the railings, his elbow propped onto the metal as he hides his smile with the knuckles of his fist.

“God, what are you doing? I’m more than capable of getting into my own apartment. Just fucking leave already.”

“You sure,” he taunts, eyes dropping down to where I’m still digging for my keys, “seems like you’re having some trouble.”

“Alright,” I huff, finally pulling them out and shoving them into the deadbolt before pushing the door open, “there. I’m in-”

My words are cut off as he hurries past me as if he owns the fucking place. “What,” I stutter, looking out to the empty street back into my living room. “Matty, what the hell are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer me, just continues looking around the room a bit crazed. “Matty.” I say again, my voice finding more confidence rather than the anxiety I usually feel around him.

“Where is the bathroom? I’ve got to fuckin’ piss.” Matty groans, not even waiting for me to answer before walking down my hall and making his way right to my bedroom. I rush behind him, stuttering to a stop when he pushes the door open and freezes himself.

I hadn’t been expecting anyone, and the place definitely looked like it. Clothes strewn across the floor, a few dirty mugs with half-drank tea on my nightstand, my vinyls stacked next to my record player unsteadily. “I, uh...”

He trails into the room, going directly to the vinyls that are staggering a bit with his heavy footsteps. For some strange reason, my heart sputters as his finger traces over the letters of the top of my Eagles vinyl. It was a cheap one, the cover and slip fucked up to the point it was barely eligible, but the actual vinyl worked perfectly. He turns the knob on the record player, the music casting over the silence in the room.

With each beat of the drum and strum of the guitar, my heartbeat increases. Music is how I hide, it’s the only thing that’s ever truly been mine . My father, mother... they never understood my attachment to it. They never understood I used it as a gateway into another life. One where their judgment wasn’t thrown in my face 24/7.

Music is my escape... and it just makes my skin itch to have someone else listening to it. Judging it.

‘Raven hair and ruby lips ,’ Don Henley’s voice rips right through my body, and it’s like it does Matty’s too. He turns to face me, his hand lingering on the knob with an unreadable expression on his face. ‘Sparks fly from her fingertips, echoed voices in the night, she’s a restless spirit on an endless flight. ’

Just as the band's voice melts into one another, breaking into the bridge before the chorus, the knob is twisted back and the record player clicks off. “That’s nothing-”

“It’s a great song.” He whispers, his brows furrowing like he’s confused about everything happening. “The uh- the bathroom?”

“It’s across the hall.” I rush out, moving aside as he shoves past me and disappears into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

As soon as the door closes behind him, I’m rushing out just as quickly as he did. My hands are shaking again. With the silence around me, my thoughts have ample opportunity to start screaming inside my mind. Preparing me for whatever insults Matty will throw my way when he steps back out.

“Whatever he says doesn’t matter. He’s a fucking idiot.” I whisper to myself, rushing to grab a mug from the cabinet above my sink and the container of tea bags that sit perfectly beside them. “He’s an asshole.”

Just as my tea kettle starts to whistle, I hear the sink in the bathroom turn on. Fuck, fuck .

With shaking hands, I pour the boiling water into my mug, looking over my shoulder as Matty makes his way back into the kitchen. His footing is slower, more hesitant than when he first arrived and shoved inside like it was his home. Brown eyes meet mine, and it makes me shiver. It’s like he’s looking right through me, like he can see everything I’m thinking- feeling.

Gross.

I blame him for the curse that falls from my lips in a hiss, turning back to the counter as I over pour the water in my mug. “ Fuck , shit-“ I mutter, dropping the kettle back into my sink and turning the cool water on with my other hand.

“Christ, Y/n.” Matty huffs, quickly making his way behind me. Chest to back, my shaking only increases as he leans over my shoulder to inspect the red area.

“I leave you alone for five fuckin’ minutes. Let me see it,” in a blink he’s stepping out from behind me and flanking my side, pulling my hand out from under the water. He turns my hand palm up a few times underneath my stove's overhead light before humming out a teasing, “you’ll live. Sadly .”

Matty looks up through his lashes, holding my gaze for a few heartbeats before I’m able to gather myself and step away. He clears his throat, letting our hands fall back to our sides, “tell me you’re smart enough to have a simple first aid kit.”

“Under the bathroom sink.” I answer, cursing how fazed my voice sounds from his touch and gaze. Hopefully he won’t question it, chalk it up to getting hurt instead.

He disappears again, letting me catch my first breath since he walked out of the bathroom. What is with this man? I can’t stand him- that’s it. That’s why my breath hitches when he’s around, that’s why my heart beats quicker when he nears me. It’s all out of anger. Definitely.

Chills run down my spine as I put my hand back under the water, trying my best to ignore the want to turn around and watch for him to come back. I don’t really have a chance to think anything through before he’s emerging from my hallway with the plastic container in his hands. He glances over to me, holding the gaze a second longer than needed before opening the container and digging through the various medical supplies inside.

Needles, alcohol, bandages, thread for the needles in case someone needed impromptu stitches, a multitude of different kinds of antibiotic and numbing ointments, medical tape, a small ace bandage rolled up... it had it all. Maybe I lied when I said it was small. But who knows when something might happen? At least I’m prepared.

Matty cocks his head to the side, furrowing his brows when he looks back to me. “Plannin’ for a fuckin’ war or something?”

“You never know.” I mutter, turning away from his gaze to turn the water off, rolling my eyes at myself for being embarrassed. “I’m fine, Matty. Go home or wherever you go whenever I don’t see you. I’m good.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he scoffs, tapping the island to get my attention, “Come on. Hop up here.”

I close my eyes, inhaling deeply through my nose. Control your tongue, Y/n.

There’s no need to start something else.

Pressing my lips tightly together, I turn back to face him after patting my hands dry with a dish towel and ignore his gaze as I make my way to him. He steps back to give me room as I hop onto the counter, making sure to leave my burnt hand out in front of me. I didn’t think I was going to make it at first, but Matty was sure to catch my outstretched wrist, helping me up with ease without actually touching where it was stinging.

“Thanks.” I mutter, swallowing down the nervous lump in my throat.

“S’nothin’,” he shrugs, stepping closer to reach the contents he’s laid out beside my right thigh. “How did you even manage this? It’s fuckin’ tea, for fucks sake.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he unscrews the lid to my bottle of aloe vera. Matty squeezes some of the ointment onto his finger, gently running it over my palm and around the curve of my thumb. With a hiss, I jerk back, but he’s quick to hold me still by stepping between my legs and holding my hip with his free hand. “Stop bein’ a baby.”

“Stop being an ass.” I shoot back, quickly looking down as he starts massaging it into my skin a bit more. My hand is the least of my worries right now; the way my hip is burning where he’s gripping it, my body suddenly hyper aware of my calves clinging to the outside of his thighs subconsciously.

“How does that feel?” He says in almost a whisper, looking up to me through his lashes, ceasing any movement of his fingertips and I’m confused when I wish he hadn’t stopped.

What the actual hell am I thinking?

“It’s good–feels good. Better.” I say after a moment of silence, holding his eyes.

As I looked into his eyes, a wave of surprise washed over me. His irises weren't just the ordinary shitty brown I had always thought them to be. Instead, a ring of dark, rich brown surrounded his pupils like a halo, fading into a warm sunset hue around his pupils. It was as if I was gazing into pools of liquid caramel.

They’re actually really beautif—

“Good,” he breaks my daze with a slight nod, “hand me the wrap.”

With the hand not held in his, I reach for one of the rolled gauzes, sucking in a breath when my shirt rides up a bit and his fingertip touches my bare skin. “No, not that one.” He huffs as I hold out a pink one to him. “Not unless you want the shit to stick to the ointment and have to rip it off later.” Instead of removing the hand from my hip, he jerks his chin, “that one–the white one, yeah.”

Whether it’s intentional or not, his thumb rubs against my bare skin one last time before he pulls it away completely. “There’s no blisters or anythin’,” he mumbles quietly, turning my hand to inspect it thoroughly, “should heal just fine. Still feel okay? Not burning more than it was?” He looks up for an answer, but there’s no way I can verbally respond.

Not with how close he is, the way his cologne is overtaking any reminisce of my candle I had burned all day, how his eyes seem to bore directly into me. I shook my head no, and I was waiting for him to complain but he didn't. He nods back at me wordlessly as well and starts to unroll the gauze, only stopping once there’s plenty to start wrapping my hand.

Another chill runs down my spine as he takes my hand in his silently, starting at my wrist as he slowly starts to close the white wrap down my hand. He’s focused; head bent down closer to make sure he’s doing it well enough, not muttering a word. I can’t even be fucked about the burn or worry about how it’s going to feel in the morning. All I can focus on is how close he’s gotten, somehow closer than before and our bodies nearly touching now.

With a final turn of the wrap, he straightens his back. Only an inch or so away, I can feel his breath feather against my cheek. His eyes flit between mine, not dropping my hand or stepping away. “Does that feel good? Is it too tight?”

“No.” I whisper, too afraid to raise my voice and break whatever the fuck is going on between us right now.

And for whatever reason, I lean closer into him. My calves tighten on his thighs, one of his hands comes back to rest on my hip. My mouth is slightly parted, taking shallow breaths as his eyes search every inch of my face and dropping to my lips every other second. “Matty…” I can’t help but whisper, a bit confused and too wound up to hold it in.

He watches the way my lips and tongue move to say his name, fluttering his eyes closed briefly before nodding softly at me like he is just as torn and confused as I am. He doesn’t say anything, but tightens the grasp he has on me.

My free hand comes up to the back of his neck, the tips of my fingers brushing through the hair at the nape of his neck before tangling my fingers into it. His head tilts as I pull on the hair, the stubble of his jaw grazing against mine as our lips just brush against one anothers.

And then my phone rings.

It’s a familiar ringtone, one I had set for Charli. “Shit, shit, shit...” I curse, dropping my hand and hopping down from the counter as Matty quickly steps away from me. “God, what the hell does she want? I was just there.”

I rush over to my couch, digging through my purse to find the phone and stop the incessant ringing. Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, my fingers grasp around the cell and I pull it out. “Not right now,” I mutter to myself, hitting the decline button to effectively hang up on her and stop the annoying ass tone I had set.

“Sorry,” I huff, turning back to face Matty but I’m met with his back. He doesn’t give me another look or a word before he’s rushing out of my apartment and slamming the door closed and I’m left standing utterly fucking confused as ever.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Time is a disconcerting thing. To me, at least. Seconds turn into minutes, minutes turn into hours and all you can do is watch the time pass. Or distract yourself with mundane tasks, maybe sleep it away. I can’t ever sleep though. I don’t have that luxury.

I tried distracting myself, but there wasn’t anything to do. I had nothing to clean after tidying up my room, there were no stupid reality tv shows to get sucked into. So, I watched the clock hands tick by and felt my chest grow heavier with each passing second.

My mind wandered to Matty more than I care to admit. How he sounded, the way his eyes naturally caught the lights that he passed, every curve and sharp jut of his body. How his fingers felt on me. How I wished I had felt his lips, to know if they were as soft as they looked.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Madness.

I’m gonna go crazy and I’m not being cheeky or dramatic. I truly think if I don’t sleep, if I can’t get him out of my fucking head, I’m gonna start hallucinating.

The only good thing about staying up all night and well into the morning is getting ahead of things. My boss didn’t question me further when I lied and said it was a family emergency and why I couldn’t make my shift. He actually seemed concerned and it made my stomach sick with guilt... but it had to be done.

I had downed about three cups of coffee and threw a fit like a five year old when I realized I’d have to go grocery shopping soon because I was out of creamer. Black it was.

Definitely woke me up, though.

Remembering the brighter sides of things. A lot easier said than done, but I was trying.

Charli and George had both texted me last night to question me on why I never answered. I don’t know if Matty had gone back to George and Charli’s place or if he had said anything, but they seemed worried regardless. I was so confused when Matty left like he had, I had forgotten to answer them until this morning around six or seven.

I was in the shower, washing the suds out of my hair when my phone rang. It wasn’t any of the ringtones I had set, just one of the preprogrammed ones that come with the phone. Making sure to wash the soap from the crown of my head so it doesn’t travel down into my eyes, I step out of my shower and rush to my phone that’s facedown on my sink countertop.

“Hello?” I breathe out, the steam and air around me making it a bit hard to take a proper breath.

“Y/n,” his voice breaks through the water still pouring from my shower head, making my heart stutter even more than it already was, “what’re you doin’ in there? Let me in.”

My brows furrow, about to ask what he’s talking about until I hear the resounding echo of a knock on my front door. “Matty, tell me you aren’t at my house at eight in the morning. You said to meet you there!”

“Sorry, princess.” He replies cooly. I don’t have to be looking at him to know he’s smirking. “Now open up before I break this stupid fuckin’ door down.”

Another knock, harder this time, has me wrapping a towel around my body and racing out of the bathroom. My neighbors already give me a hard time and have complained to the landlord whenever I’d accidentally play my music too loud. I cannot get another complaint about some belligerent man on my door stepping yelling at eight in the morning.

Slipping on the hardwood as I round the couch, I nearly slam into the door as I reach to unlock it. “Just stop, Jesus, I’m opening it,” I hiss through the door. All I get back is a chuckle from the other side.

Arrogant asshole.

When I peel the door open, his fist is hung between us, like he was going to deliberately knock on it again. “What is wrong with you?” I huff, moving to the side to wave him in.

“Me?” He scoffs, sliding past me casually. “Who the fuck spends thirty minutes in a shower?” I roll my eyes, locking the deadbolt before turning back to face him.

I’m suddenly aware that I’m nude save the towel that’s tied around my chest and falling down to the middle of my thighs, “what were you doin’ in there, princess?” Brown eyes trace down my body, sending shivers down my spine and goosebumps on my legs.

Why the fuck does that keep happening?!

I probably look like a fish as my mouth opens and closes repeatedly, failing to voice any of the words my brain is throwing at me. “I’m not even going to entertain that question,” I quip, tightening my hold on the towel as I walk away from his wandering eyes, the soap threatening to spill into my eyes as it stops it’s trail at my eyebrows, “give me ten minutes and I’ll be back out.”

Pausing by the encasing of the hallway, I glance over my shoulder with one of my more serious expressions, “Do not touch anything. Just sit there and be quiet.”

Matty holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender, plopping down on the couch I had spent all night rolling around on with a cheeky grin.

Not giving him another glance, I hurry to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. The room is hazy, the steam covering every inch of the surface and clouding the mirror. So much for preserving water.

I wash the soap and conditioner from my hair quicker than I ever have, coating my skin in my body wash and washing it off just as rapidly and before I know it I’m stepping out of the shower stall again. This time, the towel goes on my hair and the clothes I had laid out on my sink counter are pulled over my body.

The fabric stretches across my damp skin, and if I had been alone I would’ve air-dried. There’s nothing more uncomfortable than clothes clinging to your body when they aren’t meant to.

Inching to the end of the hall, stepping on the tips of my toes to try and be as quiet as possible, I strain my eyes to find Matty. The couch is empty, the room dead silent.

Oh shit, don’t tell me the hallucinating started from my lack of sleep?

“No, no, no...” I mutter, walking deeper into the living room. There’s nothing to even hint he had been here; no lingering scent of his cologne, no footprints in my area rug from his shoes. “No. It’s not possible.” I shake my head, racing to the door before peeling it open in one swift movement. “He was here.”

But the street outside of my flat is empty. There’s no SUV, he isn’t standing outside by the railing like I had thought. Hoped.

My hands are shaking when I close the door back, and I rest my forehead on it for a few seconds to stabilize my heaving chest. “I swear you were here.”

“I’m right here.”

I whip around, a hand to my chest as the voice looms through the air. There, standing in front of me is Matty, a furrow on his brows as he watches me. “Why are you talking to yourself? You look like you saw a ghost-”

For whatever reason, my feet are racing forward and I’m throwing my arms around his shoulders. He stands completely still, arms at his sides, but it doesn’t stop me from squeezing even tighter.

It takes a full moment of me standing there, molding our bodies to one another before he clears his throat and I pull back just as quickly as I had gone in. “Oh my god.” I breathe, taking another step back. “Sorry, um—my mind is just playing tricks. M’just tired.”

“I was just checking out your vinyl collection...” he mumbles off, swallowing down roughly. “I didn’t leave.”

“No, no.” I shake my head, pulling the towel from my hair and rubbing my fingers through it. “Just drop it, okay? Don’t bring it up.”

He looks torn, like he can’t decide to drop the entire thing or question me fully, but after a couple of heartbeats, he’s nodding at me. “Yeah, let’s go. You ready?”

I don’t miss the way his eyes rake up and down my body.

“Just have to grab some sneakers,” I mutter, not meeting his eyes as he continues staring directly at me. Into me. “I’ll be right back.”

Matty stays silent as he nods me on, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and for some reason, it makes my stomach fall. I shouldn’t have touched him.

Last night was a moment of weakness. One that will not happen again.

I take a moment to myself when I step into my room, breathing deeply and evenly. I can’t stand how Matty makes me feel. Confused, angry and pent up all at once.

The thought of him just standing there waiting on me makes me hurry though, one last breath before pulling the closest pair of black sneakers on as I hop back out into the hallway on one foot, effectively pulling the other on as I do.

His eyes meet mine as soon as I’m on level ground, an expression I can’t quite read. “I’m ready.” I break the silence, his body barely tensing further at the sound of my voice. Matty clears his throat and gestures with a flick of his chin for me to follow him as he steps towards my front door, hands still in his pockets.

I remain silent as I grab my purse, slinging it over my shoulder and locking the door to my place behind us. I remain silent as I climb into the passenger seat of a car I hadn’t seen before, one more sleek and obscure than his Range Rover. It’s why I hadn’t realized he was actually here when I checked. I didn’t bother asking if it was his.

I couldn’t articulate a single word, let alone an entire sentence.

Matty didn’t try to speak to me either. I think he was just as confused as I was at my actions. Why I thought it was okay to touch him, to hug him?

Or he just didn’t care. I don’t know.

The only reason I could breathe properly, calming my heaving chest, was the driver's side window he had down again to smoke a cigarette. The air outside was warm, and comforting. I wasn’t going to ask him to roll it up this time- even though he’d most likely ignore me again if I did.

We had been driving for almost twenty minutes when I finally picked my head up from its gaze on my lap and took in our surroundings. We were at his gym already. The gravel crunches under his tires as he throws the car in park and that’s when I finally turn my head with furrowed brows as I realized the parking lot is completely empty.

“Why is no one he—”

“Get out.” He grunts in response, killing the engine and not waiting for me before peeling himself from the driver's side.

My curiosity is what has me moving, following suit and half jogging to match his long strides. He made sure not to hold the door open for me as he walked through the lobby, walking behind the front desk to flick multiple light switches on. My eyes squint as the bright lights blinded me.

As he rounded the front desk, Matty glanced quickly over his shoulder at me to make sure I was paying attention enough to follow him. I was though—that’s for certain. Any and every previous thought was buried deep into my subconscious, now solely focused on the man in front of me.

My mind is only filled with him, how great he looked in blue track pants and the black tank top that was almost like a second skin clinging to his chest. His shoulder blades flexed with each slight movement he made, his inked biceps on complete display.

He had my utmost attention whether he knew it or not.

I nearly ran into the back of him when he came to an abrupt halt, too busy picturing what he looked like out of the shirt rather than really paying attention to where we were going.

A door, grey metal door, stood in front of us.

“Watch where you’re goin’,” he mutters roughly, pushing the door open and ushering me to step in first. His body stays planted where he stands though, so I bend slightly and walk underneath his arm, “lights on the left.”

Blindly reaching for the switch, my hand travels up exposed brick until finally finding it, flicking it up so the room is cast in a soft glow. The floors are concrete, save for a few mats on the far wall that look like yoga mats to a point. It’s a fairly small room, especially with the huge boxing ring in the middle.

“So…” I trail off, flicking my eyes on everything around me, “How is this gonna go?”

The door shuts behind me, all of the light cut off casting from outside the door and making this room even dimmer than before. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” I don’t turn when I feel his chest press lightly against my back, my body still standing in the doorway and leaving little to no space for him to maneuver around me. “You’ll see soon enough.”

His breath fans across my neck, and I’m shot back to last night. How close we were, the same ragged breath on my skin. This time though, before anything transpires, he’s pulling away and clearing his throat. “Let’s just focus on getting this day done and over with, yeah?” He croaks, turning his back to me as he walks further into the room.

“Sound good to you?” he huffs, finally turning around to face me completely.

I’m nodding before my mind can contemplate what he’s even saying, “okay.”

Matty stares at me for a beat, like he’s trying to decide if I’m bullshitting him or not, before finally dropping his head in relief and nodding more to himself than me. “Alright,” he mumbles, my skin tingling as he looks back up to me, “come over here.”

My feet are moving forward, the gentle demand sending my body into autopilot, but Matty is quick to shake his head and I stop mid-step. “No. Try again. Hold your head up, don’t look so... frail.”

“M’ not fucking frail.” I mouth, my voice coming out more harsh than intended.

I hadn’t even taken a full step when he’s holding up a hand to stop me again, “Do better. Again.”

Matty looked me up and down, a brow slightly arched and his lips curving up into a smirk that I recently wanted to smack off of his face. It was the same expression he'd given me every time he made me stop and retry.

“I’m not doing it again for the 50th fucking time,” I huffed, slightly surprised that I was winded from just walking , “The fuck does walking have to do with anything?”

“That was it.” Matty cuts me off, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s how you show your power. Like you own the fucking place. Like everyone, there should be worshipping at your feet.” My breath catches as he steps forward, dropping his lips down to the curve of my ear, “Understand, princess?”

My heartbeat was suddenly beating erratically for an entire reason rather than the exertion.

“I guess?” I whisper, freezing as he reaches up to my neck, pushing the hair over my shoulder. Closing my eyes, my head is tilting on its own accord towards the ceiling, waiting for the feeling of his lips pressing against my pulse point.

It doesn’t come, though.

He steps away just as I feel the scruff of his cheek brush against mine, the same sly smirk on his lips. “Now that we know you can walk ,” he taunts, “can you fight? At all? Defend yourself in the slightest?”

“I don’t know,” I hum, fighting back the slightest curve of my lips, “let’s test it out to see. Are we getting in the ring or what?” I ask, motioning to the huge boxing ring a few feet behind him.

“No,” he answers immediately, eyeing the ring before turning back to me and letting his arms uncross, “Need to loosen you up first. Go pick a mat and let me change real quick.”

My eyes follow him as he trails off from the middle of the room, heading towards a door I hadn’t even noticed to my left. It must be a small bathroom or a locker room of sorts. I caught the sight of a single shower stall when the door opened before it closed behind him. I stood there, just staring at the chipped paint of the door for a full minute before having to mentally kick myself to get moving. There’s no telling what Matty would say or do if he walked back out and I was just staring at him like a creep.

Pulling the hair tie from around my wrist, I pull my hair into a pony and walk towards the mats that are placed directly in front of the mirrors. One looks used more than the other, the vinyl almost ripped and faded from the amount of wear. Choosing the one beside it on the off chance that the worn one was Matty’s choice, I settled down and faced the mirror.

Looking at my reflection, making sure the outfit I rushed to put on looked decent. A pair of black athletic leggings and a simple t-shirt overtop one of my sports bras. As I straighten my legs out in front of me, rubbing the muscles in my thighs, the door where Matty had disappeared behind opens, and he walks out with his eyes instantly finding mine in the mirror.

He’s not wearing the tanktop anymore, his bare tattooed chest is on display now and the blue track pants were replaced with a pair of black athletic shorts. As I drag my eyes back up to his face in the mirror, he has stopped a few feet behind me, a single brow raised at me in question.

Without a word, he starts forward again, only looking away from my reflection when he sits down on the mat across from me. “Look at me.” He says hoarsely, and I find myself spinning in his direction in a split second. “Your legs sore?”

“A bit.” The word came out low, ashamed from being tight from just walking, but to my surprise, Matty just nodded and sat up on his knees, a look of focus on his face as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Lay back.” He instructs, scooting around my body until he’s at my side and looking down at me. “Being sore isn’t bad, just lets us know what we’ve got to work on, yeah? It’s my fault. I should’ve made you stretch before working out. But let's be fair, I didn’t think walking would wind ya so much.”

I roll my eyes and start to sit up, “If you’re just going to insult me then I’m leaving.”

“No,” he shuts me down, pushing down onto my shoulder and making me lay back flat onto my back, “You aren’t.”

“I’m starting to think you know fuck all.” I trail off, and Matty finds my eyes once more but doesn’t retort with anything witty or sharp. He just keeps his mouth closed and shakes his head tightly, angling his head away from me. Which might be worse than anything else. “Okay,” I swallow down any of the insults threatening to tumble past my lips, “what’s next?”

Brown eyes look at me again, and I have to remind myself how to breathe. His hand reaches down to my shin, just hovering over the exposed skin where the leggings end before glancing back to mine, “Can I touch you here?”

Anywhere.

That’s what my mind was dying for my mouth to echo, but instead, I nod once at him. He sits in the same position, holding my gaze until I realize what he wants. “Yes. You can touch me.”

Matty braces one hand on my shin, causing electricity to spark throughout my body while the other comes to my thigh, right above my knee. “You’ve got to stretch these muscles, so they don’t get all coiled and you end up limping tomorrow from the pain.” His words are quiet as he guides my leg up towards my chest, keeping my knee bent while he does. “It helps strengthen the muscles here. Got it?”

I nod at his question and the hand above my knee only moves once my knee touches my stomach, opting to reach across my waist and hold my left leg that tries to raise with the other. “Is that too much?” he asks, eyes glancing over to me to gauge my reaction.

“No.” I huff out, not from the actual stretch, but from how his hands felt on me. “It’s fine, I’m good.”

“Breathe.” He comments, and with the realization that I had been holding my breath, I let out a prolonged exhale slowly. “That’s it. Feel the burn still, is it easing any?” He releases the hold on my shin, straightening my leg and subconsciously squeezing my thigh as he runs it up the curve of my leg.

I have to look away from his face to steady my breathing, closing my eyes briefly. “It’s better, yeah.”

He moved to my other side then, doing the same stretch on my left leg, but making sure to watch my breathing and if I was tensing at all. I wasn’t going to tell him I was flexible enough for this. It was selfish, but I didn’t want to lose the feeling of sparks his hands erupted on me.

Too soon, he moves away and sits back down on the mat across from me, facing me. For another twenty minutes, he walks me through various stretches. Ones that I knew, and some that I didn’t. My arms, shoulders, legs, my core... they felt free and tight all at once. I don’t know if that’s from what Matty had me doing, or if it was just Matty in general.

He rose to his feet after he seemed satisfied that I was loose enough, and I followed suit.

I stood next to the ring as he jogged off to the side, swiping a bottle of water from a case that was tossed carelessly against one of the walls. He brings it to his lips, swallowing nearly all of it in a few big gulps and letting out a huff when he catches me watching.

“Thirsty?” He asks, extending the bottle towards me. I nod my head, waiting for him to bend down and grab my own, but he just walks towards me and places the bottle he had just drank from in my hands. “What? Water is good for you–don’t tell me you’re one of those people who never drinks it. For fucks sake... we should’ve started with that-”

“Shut up.” I groan, putting the lip of the bottle to my mouth and swallowing down the last few drinks of the warm water. I would’ve much rather have had a cold bottle, but I wasn’t going to complain in front of him and have him chastise me like a fucking child again. “Better?” I ground out when it’s empty, holding it back out to him.

I also wasn’t going to aid in his ego and tell him how great the water felt on my utterly dry throat.

“Have you ever been taught defense?” He asks again, his earlier question still mulling around in my mind. I could lie to him, act as frail as he thinks I am, or I could be straight up with him and tell him that I knew a little.

I opted with the element of surprise for him, “No.”

He nodded at me and flung the empty water bottle behind him, “That’s okay. We’ve got time to teach you properly.” Time. a finicky little thing, isn't it? “We can start with the basics, how does that sound?”

“Easy enough.” I conclude, but dropping any hint of confidence when he fucking smirks at me as we step into the ring and he places gloves on my hands before doing the same.

He begins circling me, a shark to its prey, looking for where to strike. My breath catches when he stops behind me, and if it wasn’t for the mirror on the wall showing me what he was doing, I may have been the one caught off guard. The second he started towards me, I ducked to the side and avoided his arms that were coming out to wrap around my body.

Matty lets out a breathy laugh, one that sounds more mocking than genuine. “You won’t have a reflection in the real world, Y/n. Don’t use that fuckin’ mirror. Use what’s inside your head. I need you to think, understand? I know you’re smart-ish use that to your advantage.”

The small smile I was wearing is swiped from my lips at being caught and I nod, “Whatever, Matthew. Give me your best.”

“You wouldn’t last a second with my best, princess.” He taunts, sizing me up once again as he stalks towards me. “If it were just you and me, an alleyway or a hallway, one that’s dark and you couldn’t see, what would you do?”

I glance around me, about to turn away and sprint away from him but he is shaking his head. “High chances they will chase you. What do you do?”

“I fight back.” I answer, and he nods again, stopping when he’s a foot in front of me. “But they’re bigger than me.”

“But you’re smarter ,” he counters, his gloved hand coming out to poke me in the chin, “and you’ve got a mouth on you, yeah? One that never shuts the fuck up? Use that if you have to. They won’t want a scene, so give them one. Scream, yell. Get someone’s attention if that’s what it takes.”

His glove lingers on my chin, “Use my mouth. I’ve got it.” The words are low, the familiar electricity crackling around us with him this close to me.

In the blink of an eye, his hand is off my chin and wrapping an arm around my shoulder to spin me, the bend of his arm pressing against my windpipe. “Rule number one of defense,” he murmurs against the shell of my ear, “don’t panic.” Matty’s arm tightens a fraction, “Am I hurting you?”

“No,” I manage to croak out, attempting to shake my head before remembering I’m quite literally being held stationary. He wasn’t, not to the point of hurting me, just a slight discomfort that I haven’t felt in a while.

A feeling that had my heart racing with adrenaline.

With my left hand, I reach up to his forearm, already anticipating the soft shake of his head at that being the wrong thing to do. Before the words can leave his mouth though, I throw my right elbow back into the exposed area of his side and twist out of his grasp.

“Surprise,” I hum with a smirk, eyes glinting as Matty instantly reaches to the area I know has to be stinging.

His lips curve up, a soft scoff followed by a breathy chuckle leaving them, “Okay... so you know some defense, hmm? Why didn’t you just fucking say that?”

“This was more fun,” I tease, shaking out my hands. “Did it hurt?”

“Like a bitch,” he praises, twisting his hips to alleviate some of the pain, “You’ve got boney ass elbows– christ .” The smirk I’m still wearing is falling as he suddenly hardens, the playfulness gone from his expression and eyes almost instantly. “Hit me. C'mon.”

I take a half step back hesitantly as he stalks towards me, “What–hit you? Like... really hit you?”

“Did I fuckin’ stutter?” Matty questions, an innocent tilt to his head. “Hit me–unless you’re too worried about ruining your–”

You don’t have to tell me twice.

His words were knocked from his mouth. Literally .

A sinister grin spreads across my face as I watch the crimson liquid gush from his mouth. Fuck that felt good. Matty never knows when to stop running his mouth, constantly spewing nonsense and infuriating everyone around him. His once smug expression is now one of shock and disbelief as he jerks his head, trying to snap out of whatever thoughts are racing through his mind.

“Is that all you got, princess?” With a forceful spit, he releases the bloody mess onto the pristine white mat beneath him. “Again.”

“Again?” I choke out, rushing to stand in front of him at the sight of the shit ton of blood he spat out, abandoning the gloves. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do it that hard. Fuck, oh hell... does it hurt? Of fucking course it hurts.”

Matty also abandons his gloves and then rubs at his cheek, chuckling a bit when his head comes up and his eyes meet mine. Void is the serene brown that’s normally glaring at me, replaced with blown pupils that look lethal. “Matty… I’m sorry.”

“Shut up.” He barks at me, suddenly standing tall and towering over me. Our movements are synced, him stepping forward, me back. And that continues until my back the ropes, ending any chance of distance I have to put between us.

The dark eyes glance down at my extended palms, the ones inches away from touching his abdomen, “What? Think I’m going to hit you?”

“I don’t know...” I trail off, my heart lurching against my rib cage as he steps further, my hands flat against his stomach now, “you look like you’re considering it.”

The lips I’ve been trying my best to avoid staring at lift, “This isn’t me angry, princess.” He hums, pressing forward so our chests are touching. “I’d be a hell of a lot less composed. I’m... surprised, impressed even. Didn’t think these arms had any hope.”

I fucking hate how my mouth parts and eyes close as his knuckle runs up the expanse of my arm. “I guess you don’t know me as well as you thought.” I manage to whisper, choking on my breath as the tips of his fingers brush the hair of my ponytail from my shoulder.

“Hmm?” He questions, the scruff of his jaw following the curve of my neck as he leans in, his whisper fanning over the heated skin, “Maybe I don’t. What else are you hiding, Y/n?”

“It wouldn’t be a secret then, would it?” I breathe out, my fingertips grazing his abs. I can feel the smirk as he glides his lips from the bottom of my jaw, only pausing when he reaches the corner of my mouth.

I angle my head up as he does, heavy breaths shared between the two of us. “I guess you’re right,” he whispers, his lips peppering onto my mouth teasingly with each syllable. “It’s more fun to find out this way anyways, yeah?”

“Yes.” God, yes. “Matty—”

“Hmm?” He questions, his hands finding this resting spot on either side of my head. “What is it? What do you want, baby ? Use your mouth, remember? Words.”

My eyes open as he fully encases me in, eyes blown and wild. Adrenaline. “Kiss me.”

That was all it took. The two simple words fell from my lips for Matty to let out a low huff of breath, his left hand pushing off the ropes to cup around my cheek. He angles my head up, holding my gaze as his thumb runs across the curve of my jaw.

All breath is expelled from my lungs, happily swallowed by Matty who is inching closer with each breath.

My name drips from his tongue like honey, smooth and thick with his accent. I don’t think I’ve ever liked my name as much as I have when it’s coming from him. “Say it again.”

“Kiss me.”

His hips twitch forward the moment the words leave my mouth, his lips crash onto mine. It's both a gentle and a demanding kiss, like he's trying to taste every inch of me and reestablish his dominance at the same time. One hand still cradles my cheek, and the other wraps around the back of my neck, holding me in place as we breathe each other in.

His taste is addictive.

My mind couldn’t keep up. The way he was pulling my hair, the beautiful soft moans leaving his lips, the way he was consuming every inch of me. I was going feral and the adrenaline coursing through my veins was fighting for dominance over my want to be closer to him.

To feel him.

Matty’s fingers tighten around my throat as I let out a prolonged moan, my own noise sending chills throughout my whole body. It was a battle of who could get who undressed quicker, our hands fumbling around blindly trying to free one another of the material separating us.

“I’m gonna fuck you.” He begs breathless as my lips attach to his neck and a whimper fights its way past my lips. Matty’s hands cup under my ass, lifting me into the air as I wrap my legs around his waist.

Both of our chests heaving, hardly able to breathe, I feel the cool floor of the boxing ring beneath my back as Matty pins me down with his body weight. His lips find mine again, consuming my every thought. I let out a hiss when his hand bites into my hip, only to be followed by a pleasured whine as Matty runs his thumb over the sensitive area as his lips leave mine once again.

Every inch of me is on fire.

“Be a good girl for me,” He whispers against my ear, “Can you fuckin' do that for me? For fuckin’ once?” I can’t help but tighten my grip on him, and without really thinking about it, my legs come around his waist, inviting him in, letting his hands explore the curves of my body.

My body responds instinctively as his lips begin to wander across my skin, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses in their wake. Every inch of me tingles with anticipation as he travels from my throat to my jaw, his touch sending shivers down my spine. Matty's kisses turn rough as he bites down on the sensitive skin of my neck, igniting a mixture of pleasure and pain that I can't resist.

“Fuck.” I groan as my back arches and his chest presses against mine, “we shouldn’t be doin’ this.”

There are a hundred reasons as to why we shouldn’t. The most obvious being that Matty is a dick and we hate each other. I know I shouldn’t be wanting him this way and let’s not forget this is crossing a line that I’m afraid we wouldn’t be able to come back from. Expect I’m not stopping, and he isn’t pushing me away either.

“You’re right.” Matty does, however, manage to say in no more than a whisper. “We shouldn’t. It doesn’t make sense, you and I.”

I can barely focus on what he’s saying considering how he’s rolling his hips into me. The bulge in his boxers is evident and a low growl escapes my lips as I buck my hips back towards him, needing more contact. “This is stupid, and you hate me-”

The second those words leave my mouth, Matty is hovering over me, both hands on either side of my head. My body is suddenly cold without him pressed against me. “What did you just say?” Those milky brown eyes are forced onto mine when he holds my jaw firmly, fire burning the skin where he’s holding me.

“It’s dangerous?” I question in between breaths, and Matty instantly shakes his head. My brows furrow, seemingly genuinely confused, until my eyes widen in the slightest and I can feel the fire spreading across my cheeks. “I didn’t mean... it’s just—look, you hate me and I hate you. We both know it. Jesus, everyone can see that.”

“Y/n.” Matty voices coldly and it has me almost flinching away from him. But I don’t pull out of his grasp though, just close my eyes, waiting for him to agree. “Believe me when I say that I don’t hate you. Not in the slightest. You just get under my skin and piss me off.” A devilish smirk pulls at his lips when I open my eyes, “Don’t try and pretend that you don’t do it on purpose either, my little minx.”

His eyes dart to my mouth when I run my tongue along my bottom lip. The pulse in my neck is beating roughly as his lips attach to me once more, and just like that I’m melting into his hands.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I moan out, my hand coming to the nape of his neck and pulling on his hair. “I just say what I’m thinking, and you can’t stand it.” Another moan, breathless. “That’s not my problem.”

The hand Matty had on my hip dances to the top of my thigh, and he lets it rest there for a moment before squeezing a bit roughly.

“I can make it your problem.” He rumbles against my collarbone. “Is that what you want, sweet girl? Want me to show you how pissed off you make me? Treat you like the fuckin’ brat that you are ?”

My legs tighten again, hips rolling against his with a desperate urgency. Every fiber of my being craves friction, any kind of sensation to alleviate the intense desire building inside me. I can feel the heat and hardness of him pressed against my cloth-covered, soaked core. I mutter a whiny, “Please.”

In the passing of a heart beat, Matty rips my underwear from my body—literally tears through the flimsy material. The sound of the ripping fabric fills the air, and my body flinches in anticipation as he pulls away from my neck. I'm left gasping for air, my heart thumping erratically against my rib cage.

Matty's eyes trail from my now exposed soppy cunt to my parted lips, his pupils blown as if he's seeing me for the first time.

“Need to see these fucking tits.” He groans out, roughly yanking the sports bra to my collarbones. My nipples pebble at the cool air of the room causing me to let out a whimper.

The moment Matty's rough hands cup my breasts, my eyes roll back into my head. He groans and licks his lips, and my hips jerk up as he pinches both my nipples and I can't help but moan loudly. “Oh fuck,” I whisper, feeling so turned on by the roughness.

“I’ve barely even touched you. Fuckin’ pathetic.” Matty huffs before swiftly smacking my breast with a hard swipe, my eyes fly open and I gasp, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Fuckin’ moaning and groaning, and I haven’t even put my cock in you yet,” He growls, leaning down to connect his lips to my nipple, his stubble scraping against my delicate skin, leaving me gasping.

“I could just keep going, play with your tits, suck on your nipples til they're so sore that tears fill those pretty eyes, and it would all be so easy. But that wouldn’t be fair to you, would it?” Matt’s chuckles against my skin. “I’d be teasing you, and you’d be begging for me to either stop or fuck you already.”

My gaze locks with his as he bites down on my nipple, causing a sharp pain that blends with pleasure. I groan loudly, feeling the pleasure and pain coalesce into a heady sensation that has my toes curling. “Matty...” I whimper his name like a prayer, arching my back, and pushing my chest further into his lips.

His tongue flicks over the sensitive nub, sending shockwaves of excitement throughout my entire body. The wet sounds of his mouth are making the already-charged atmosphere even more intense, the taste of him on my skin driving me wild.

“That's it,” he mumbles against my skin, his teeth grazing softly before his mouth suctions around my nipple, tugging gently. I let out a strangled cry, feeling the sting and the arousal simultaneously. My hands grab onto his hair roughly before falling to his neck and tugging him closer still. The sound of our harsh breaths fills the small space around us, punctuated by Matty's lips smacking against my breastbone as he moves lower.

He growls against me, clearly enjoying the power he holds at this moment. “You're so fuckin’ responsive,” he murmurs, his rough hands skating down my stomach and between my legs.

“Matty, please!” I plead out, my hands fisting against the cool mat.

“But I love hearing you beg for me like the needy little whore you are.” His fingers find my soppy folds, slowly lapping them around me at a tortuous speed. My head falls against the mat, my lewd moans echo around us. He teasingly circles his middle finger around my opening and I can’t help but rotate my hips against it.

His finger dips inside me like he’s searching for something and I cry out again at the touch. Matty plunges two fingers deep inside me, stretching me further than I ever thought possible with one swift thrust. “Oh,” he drags out hoarsely against my pulse point, his hips rolling against my thigh. “So fuckin’ tight. I can see why you’re a raging bitch, no one has properly fucked you, have they?” Matty teases, curling his fingers up, hitting the spongy spot hidden inside me.

“Please,” I beg again, needing him to stop teasing and just fuck me already. He groans once more, a mix of pleasure and roughness that has me on edge even more. Matty's teeth graze my neck, making me shiver as I feel his fingers slide deeper into me, stretching me to accommodate him more. The slick heat of his fingers fills me up, and I arch into him, begging him to continue.

He growls lowly against my skin, knowing exactly what he's doing to me. He presses in deeper, finding my G-spot once more as he thrusts his fingers in and out. “Fuck,” I moan, unable to control the word that slips past my lips. “Don't stop.”

His thumb finds my clit and starts circling it, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my entire body. I buck my hips towards him, needing more friction but he suddenly withdraws his fingers from my pussy with a wet pop.

I whimper in protest, my eyes fluttering open to find him still smirking at me, but this time sitting up on his knees, pulling his boxers down. Matty’s cock loudly smacks against his lower stomach and the red tip glistening with precum has my mouth watering.

I knew I shouldn't have said it, but the sight of him there, fully hard and ready for me, was just too much temptation. With a voice that was barely audible, I whispered, “Please... please just fuck me.”

“Not yet, babes,” he warns, just barely holding himself back as he lifts off his knees to completely rid himself of the boxers. “Wanna feel that mouth on my cock.”

And just like that Matty's thick, pale muscular thighs are straddling my head. “You’re gonna be a good little slut and open your fuckin’ mouth.” He demands, reaching back down to wrap my ponytail around his fist, pulling my head forward.

He shoves his cock into my mouth roughly. My fingernails latch onto his bare thighs as I gag around him, Matty’s head falling back in pleasure at the sound.

“Fuck yeah... that’s it...” He moans out as my cheeks hollow around him, sucking around his cock like a greedy slut. Which I am, especially with the way he looks down at me.

His hair started to curl from the sweat earlier but now it’s matted and tousled sticking to his forehead in sticky tendrils, his lids are heavy and half closed and to top it off his lips are cherry red and saliva-coated. “You wanna choke on this cock, princess?”

Humming in response, the vibration against his cock sends a visible chill down his spine. “God fuckin’ damnit,” Matty groans, tightening my hair around his fist. “You deserve to be fucked until you can’t walk, don’t you baby?”

My moan of agreement is cut off as he shoves his cock back into my mouth roughly, my throat constricting around him as I gag. Matty relentlessly thrust into my mouth, moaning as the head of his dick slides down my throat. My fingers tighten around his thighs, looking up at Matty through my lashes as a few tears roll down my cheeks.

“You’re taking me so well, baby.” Matty praises, slowing his hips to wipe the tears off of my face. I can’t stop but smile with his cock still in my mouth before using my grasp on his thighs to guide Matty’s cock back down my throat. “So fuckin’ good,” He moans as my nose meets his pelvis, gagging around him once more.

“Yeah, fuckin' gag on my cock you stupid little slut." Matty grunts as he slams his cock back into my throat. Tears now streaming down my face as I struggle to breathe around him.

Matty’s heavy thighs press against my head and the grip in my hair holds me to him like his personal plaything.

“Oh yeah, that's good girl.” Matty's gruff voice fills the air, thrusting deep into the back of my throat making me gag and cough, but that just makes Matty tighten his grip on my hair.

He's using my mouth, treating it like a cunt. My throat and mouth are being used to get him off. This thought alone makes my cunt clench around nothing. I can feel my pussy start to drip down on the mat and my clit is throbbing painfully just begging to be touched again. My hand slid between his parted thighs, down my trembling stomach, and finally to my drenched core in a desperate attempt to alleviate some of the pain. I let out a moan as I touched the swollen bundle of nerves.

“Did I fuckin’ say you could touch your pathetic little pussy?” Matty snarls from above as he pulls away abruptly and slaps my cheek. The blow stings and leaves my cheek reddened. A whimper falls from my lips at his words.

“Don't think I don't notice what you're doing.” His growl rumbles, resonating in the chilled air. His fingers clench, gathering a fistful of my hair, yanking my head, forcing me to meet his gaze.

“You do not get to touch, Understand me?” Matty hisses. Nodding dumbly, tears still streaming down my face. “That's my good girl.” His fist is still wrapped in my hair, and his other hand slowly travels down my torso, pinching my nipples before teasingly circling my clit with two fingers. My entire body shudders from the sensation.

“Do you want this?” He whispers, his breath hot and close to my ear.

“Please,” I murmur before moaning loudly as Matty's finger slips inside my dripping hole roughly. “Yes!” His finger starts thrusting hard and fast. Matty laughs at my answer as he withdraws slightly, only long enough for me to suck in a lungful of air, then he plunges back in, hitting the spot where I hopelessly crave.

“Desperate whore.” Matty taunts as he continues pumping his finger in and out, over and over again. “So fuckin’ needy. Like your fuckin’ pussy was made for me alone. God, you are so wet. Fuck, so pretty.” He praises.

Not even a second later, Matty is hovering over me again, slowly pumping his fingers and his thumb circles my clit. “Should I give you what you want?” He purrs as he leans in, breathing deeply in the shell of my ear, his warm breath fanning the skin. “Hmm, give you my cock?”

My eyes shoot open, wide and curious, as I stare up at him. The weight of his cock presses firmly against my thigh, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. My mind is completely transfixed on him—his chiseled jawline, his piercing gaze, the way his tousled hair falls across his forehead. In this moment, I cannot form a single coherent thought in my head.

“Yeah, you look like you need it.” Matty growls before sinking back into my cunt. A soft whimper escapes, “Such a slut,” he whispers into my ear, moving between my parted thighs. His free hand grips one side of my hips as he starts to violently shoves his cock into me, “Such a fuckin’ whore.”

There's no way I can hide my body's response to his words. Every word he says makes my heart race, my stomach flutter, and my clit throb even more. I'm helpless under him, taking everything he gives me. My body betraying me, almost as if it's addicted to the pleasure I find in this misery. His cock filling me up, stretching me open so perfectly.

Matty continues to thrust into me, his fingertips digging into my hips hard enough to leave bruises that will linger for weeks but also holding on as if he never wants to let go of this possession he has over me in this moment.

Then both of his hands are on my chest, holding my breasts as they jiggle with each rough movement. He growls and grunts with each powerful thrust, pumping himself deep inside of me until my walls begin to clench around him.

“Are you fuckin’ gonna cum already?” Matty moves his lips down to the side of my neck. “You let me treat you like shit for years and here you are about to cum around my cock.”

I shudder, feeling my orgasm build up, my walls clamping down on his cock, my pussy greedily drinking him deep. “Mmnnngh,” I moan, nodding frantically. My eyes roll back in bliss as he thrusts harder and faster, my hips bucking up to meet him. The burn in my chest as he paws at my breasts sends a wave of pleasure through me, “I’m gonna cum, Matt—fuck!” I cry out, my nails gripping his forearm as he presses his mouth harder against the curve of my neck.

“Tell me how good it feels, Y/n.” Matty orders, my legs trembling around his waist. “Wanna see you fall apart for me.”

“Matty— fuck ! I can’t, I’m cumming,” I moan, my body falling limp against the floor. He released my neck, his hands gripping onto my hips that were for sure going to marks left from how hard Matty was digging his fingers into my skin but the moans of pleasure I gave him seemed to only egged him on.

“Who knew you'd be such a perfect fuck, princess?” Matty grunts, his voice hoarse as he thrusts harder, deeper. “I knew you'd be good, but fuck, you're killing me.”

He slams into me one more time, and I let out a cry, my body trembling as a wave of pleasure washes over me. Matty's eyes hold a mix of lust and admiration as I ride my orgasm. His thumb rubs against my clit, and another wave crashes over me, leaving me breathless and weak. “You better remember, princess” Matty growls, his voice ragged. “I'm the reason you just cummed so hard.”

I wanna roll my eyes at his stupid statement but this is beyond anything I've ever experienced before, but even with a gun to my head would I ever admit it.

“Shit. Oh god, ” Matty moans, his hips bucking into me at an uneven pace now. He lowers over top of me, lips pressed in between my shoulder blades as Matty empties his cock into my pussy and fills me to the brim with his sticky, hot cum.

“Jesus... goddamn.” Matty mutters, collapsing entirely on top of me. Neither of us moves or says anything, the only sound being our labored breaths and thumping heartbeats. Matty's cock, now soft, still buried deep inside me, his hot cum seeping out between my legs and dripping down onto the mat.

The fog starts to finally clear from my brain and I realize what just happened. My body is slick with sweat and my chest heaves with each ragged breath. I can't believe I just let him do that to me.

Fucking hell, if the guys and Charli find out about this, I'll never live it down. I wonder if it’s possible to wipe away the trace of his cum from my cunt and keep this a secret for the rest of my life.

Take this shit to my grave if I have to.

Pushing up on his shoulders, “Get out of me.” Matty's breath hitches as he slowly lifts himself from me, his heavy body disappearing from atop me. He rolls off to the side, still panting heavily. His eyes dart around the room as if trying to make sense of what just happened.

"What the fuck was that?" He asks, raking his fingers through his hair and angling his head towards me. And of course, that stupid fucking smug ass smirk is on his lips.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about. Nothing happened.”

"Nothing happened?" Matty scoffs, "Then why is my cum leaking out of you, huh?” He smirks, leaning in closer as if trying to read my thoughts.

I glare at him, my hand pushing his sweaty face from me. “Can’t believe I called out of work for this and you didn’t even train me.”

“Train you?” Matty chuckles, reaching out to grab hold of my hips, pulling me close again. "Are you kidding me, princess? I just gave you the best orgasm of your fucking life and you wanna bitch about training?” He reaches down and flicks his finger against my clit, making me gasp and arch my back. “So, you're telling me that you've never felt this good before? Never had an orgasm like that?”

I forcefully push away his hand, my expression twisted into a scowl. “Whatever, Matty. M’not fucking you again.”

He smirks, his grip still firm on my hips. “Oh, but you will,” he declares confidently, his intense gaze locked onto mine. “And next time, I'll make sure to properly train you.”

“I highly doubt it.”

“Care to bet on that?” His words are barely a whisper as he leans in for a kiss, but I quickly dodge his lips. In response, his hand swiftly wraps around my throat, tightening its hold as he presses closer.

“We'll see, princess,” he growls, his warm breath tickling my ear. “We will see.”

“I fucking hate you.” I blurt out angrily, meeting his challenging gaze.

#matty healy #matty healy smut #matty the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 fic #matty healy x reader #matty smut #the 1975

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wreckedandpolemic · 1 day

Text

actress!au blurb masterlist

works marked with * contain smut!!

✮ lore blurb

✮ bluetooth vibrator*

✮ movie premiere*

✮ seaside getaway*

(kink musings)

✮ free use*

✮ orgasm denial*

✮ shibari*

✮ cumplay*

✮ knifeplay*

#matty healy x reader #the 1975 fanfic #masterlist

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abouttofillhisshoes · 1 month

Text

Facedown - Matty Healy

A/N: I don't shag men irl, so soz if there are any inaccuracies regarding the ins and outs of anal xx thank you to my mates @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff, @man-im-so-high and @awellposhmagazine for indulging in my stupid questions and mental breakdowns in the GC❤️

wc: 7k

content warnings: smut, fluff, dirty talk, pegging, praise, also a bit of degradation depending on how you look at it, use of sex toys (strap), mentions of lingerie/matty in womens clothing, sex shops, spit, masochism, cursing, polaroids/cameras, so picture kink?, girlie immortalizes him in a picture let it be poetic

“I want you to fuck me.”

You choke on air. Matty is a blunt person, always has been, never really caring for beating around the bush. You didn't mind it, but you feel like he could’ve worded that a bit more eloquently. He’s laying on top of you, hair tickling the bottom of your chin, curls obstructing a bit of your vision.

“Okay, fucking hold up, what?” you're convinced you've misheard him. Even he wouldn't be that blunt. He takes a deep breath, his tone slow and condescending

“I said, I want you to fu-” you hit him, giggling in disbelief. He jumps back in surprise, a grin spreading onto his face. He was actually serious.

“I fucking heard what you said, jesus.” Matty has this look in his eye when he’s about to do something he knows you won't like, this glimmer in his eye, and you see it so clearly. His hand grabs your face, licking across your cheek, starting from the edge of your jaw. You squirm away, wiping your skin with your hand, throwing curses at him.

“Fuck's sake, you're like a dog. Behave and I'll give you a treat, christ.”

“Depends on what the treat is.” he winks at you, grinning widely as you screw your eyes shut in annoyance. He just wouldn't let up, like it would kill him to be PG for even five seconds.

“So?” he asks, referring to his original statement.

‘I want you to fuck me.’

His words echo through your head, making all sorts of images flash in front of your eyes. Of course he notices, trailing his fingers up your bare arm, making goosebumps kiss your skin in his wake.

It's hard to even think straight, the suddenness of the question making your head spin. The two of you had never talked about it before, thinking it wasn't even on the table.

“Are you- are you sure?” you stutter out, a small part of you scared he was joking, trying to see how you would react. His answer makes you sigh in relief.

“Never been more sure.'' He's smiling, a genuine, reassuring smile.

“Actually?”

“No, I meant metaphysically, philosophically-” he deadpans, but it takes only a few seconds for him to crack up laughing, burying his face into your chest, trying to stifle his giggles.

You breathe out, weaving a gentle hand through his hair, guiding him up to kiss you, lips locking as he gasps softly. You stay like that for a while, kissing and holding each other, neither wanting to let go.

“You're mental.” you mumble when he pulls away, brushing a small strand of hair out of your eyes, sweetly tucking it behind your ear.

“Yet, you love me.” It's so perfect. His body is warm against yours, acting as a sort of weighted blanket, pressing you into the sofa. The scent of his perfume is strong, tinged with a hint of the spliff you’d both smoked earlier.

—-------------------------------------------------------------

You can tell he’s never been in an actual sex shop by the was his eyes widen when you enter, flicking between the multitude of displays and posters, having no idea where or what to look at. His hand grasps yours, one goal in mind as you both step inside, heading towards a specific aisle. Strap-ons.

Even if it was his first visit, he seems immediately at home, casually browsing through strap-ons and vibrators like he was in a department store, looking at lampshades or containers. At some point, you manage to break away from him, finding yourself in the lingerie section, lace and silk and satin surrounding you on all sides. Your fingers graze over a specific pair of green lace panties, the material soft to the touch.

Your mind goes back to that night, to the memory of Matty, on your bed, shirtless and panting, the only thing concealing him a pair of lacey black womens underwear. You wonder if he’d be into it, buying more stuff like that, or if he maybe had more back home, hidden in a secret corner of his drawer.

You're snapped back into reality by a repetitive tap on your shoulder, turning around to see it was Matty. He was holding something in his hand; a light purple, see through strap, decorated with specks of glitter and incredibly detailed. You blush at the sight, before remembering where you actually were. It looked big in his hands, intimidating almost.

“This one’s pink and glittery! Fucking awesome, who knew they had so many types?” he booms, holding it up right in front of your face. A few people turn, but most ignore his loud proclamation, going back to their own shopping.

“You're so girly, Jesus christ.” you snigger, stifling a crude laugh. It was so Matty, always one to pick the most extravagant, out of the ordinary, even when it came to sex toys.

“Don’t make me fucking start-” he threatens, and you promptly cover his mouth with your palm, staring deep into his eyes.

“Shut it.” and to your surprise, he did.

He goes back to the isle he came from, looking for more options. You’d expected it to be more uncomfortable, but you felt light, like anything was on the table. Seeing him move out of your sight, you turn back to the fabric you’d been admiring earlier, running your fingers over it, and out of the corner of your eye, something shiny catches your attention. Garters.

Your core stirs at the thought of Matty in garters, maybe even stockings or heels. You wonder if he’d even be into it, or if that was where his adventures in femininity ended. Lost in your fantasies, you don't even realize you’d picked something up. A black garter, little heart details making it sparkle in the low light of the shop, leather and metal cool against your skin.

“Oh?” you hear a teasing voice say from behind, making you jump slightly. Clutching the object between your fingers, you spin around, eyes meeting Matty’s, and he has this filthy grin on his face, knowing he’s caught you.

“What's this?” he takes it from your hand, looking at it closely. His eyes light up when he realizes what it is, or more, who it's for. Matty’s ego inflates as he dangled in front of you, relishing in your flustered reaction, a blush creeping onto your face.

“Is this meant for me?” he asks, pressing it onto his thigh over his jeans, trying to figure out how it would look. He moves to the mirror located off to the side to get a better look, admiring himself in the mirror.

“You don't have to- it's just an idea.” you say defensively, scared he’ll find it weird or odd or-

“It's a wonderful one. Do tell me more, darling.” his hand trails up your arm, landing on your shoulder. You don't have time to react as he pulls you in for a kiss, short and hot. A suggestion.

You stare at him for a few moments, not sure how to react.

“What else do you want to see me in? This, perhaps?” he struts over to the lingerie section, picking up a pair of silk panties, showing them to you. You nod your head, earning a sly grin and a wink from Matty as he puts them into his little basket.

“Or are you more of a lace kinda gal?” There's a hint of tease in his voice as he holds up another pair. The green pair.

Your breath hitches as he stares at you, looking for a reaction, smiling victoriously when he sees it. Raising his eyebrows, he wordlessly adds them to the growing pile of merchandise he’s accumulated in the short span he’d been wandering around the store.

“Fucking hell.” you mutter under your breath as he grabs your hand, dragging you over to the garters. It all seems unreal, the way he confidently shows off the pieces over his clothes, ‘modeling’ for you in front of other shoppers, utterly shameless.

“I'll wear it for you, you just have to tell me what you want.” he parrots your words back at you. ‘Just tell me what you want, Matthew’

If only he knew.

“You look pretty in everything Matty, I'd rather you pick.”

“And I'd rather you be turned on, hm? C’mon, tell me, I don't bite.” you giggle a bit at his choice of words, the marks on your neck contradicting his statement.

“You like it when I'm pretty for you?” he whispers into your ear, the words going straight to your core. Your knees feel weak, ready to buckle at any moment if he keeps talking like that.

Nodding frantically, you press a small kiss to his lips, taking his hand. You lead him to the shoes, heels and boots of all heights and colors stacked neatly in piles against a wall.

“Oh, I'm liking this turn of events.” he grins, hands reaching out to touch a specific pair of black platforms, adorned with small gemstones along the strap. You had a similar pair, knowing just how hard they were here to walk in.

“You are?” you question, feeling his free hand wrap around your waist, bringing the shoes up for you to touch, the leather rough under your fingertips.

“You turn me on so much it fucking hurts. I love being your little fantasy, all dolled up for you.” he speaks slowly, quiet enough so that only you can hear. You cough, almost choking on air as he adds the shoes to the basket, walking off as though nothing happened.

“This one?” he asks, holding up another toy. A pale pink strap-on, less glittery than the last one, but still incredibly eye-catching. You eye him up and down, the way he stood like he was holding the most normal thing ever appalling you.

“You sure?” he nods enthusiastically, eyes silently begging you to say yes. “Imagine how pretty i’d look, imagine the pictures-”

Oh, he loved to tease you about those, your collection of filthy polaroids growing larger and larger the longer you were together, stashed at the bottom of your nightstand.

“Sure you can take it?'' The expression on his face is priceless as you fight fire with fire, his grin vanishing, being replaced with an embarrassed blush dusting his face.

He wordlessly adds it, walking off in the direction of the till. You follow closely, watching him take a bottle of lube (strawberry flavored, because it's Matty) from the shelf, placing it in the basket.

It was all so new, uncharted territory for both of you. Sure, he teased and you teased back, throwing witty retorts at each other until one eventually gave up, but you were both equally nervous and excited, the idea absolutely thrilling.

The bus ride back home is slightly awkward, the bags in your hands adorning the very obvious logo of the sex shop you’d just been in, earning judging glances from strangers. Matty remains unbothered, engrossed in an old edition of vogue he’d bought at check out. You watch him leaf through the pages, inspecting outfits and designs, muttering when he doesn't agree with them. It was endearing, watching him critique world famous fashion designers, like his opinion would hold and weight in a proper argument.

200 quid was what the trip had cost you, spending way more than you had planned. Matty had paid for it with his parents' money that they sent to him every so often, wanting him to be able to live comfortably even if they were away. You felt sort of bad, offering to use your own cash, quickly being swatted away by an insistent Matty.

“I have to pay, seeing as I am a gentleman. Besides, you're going to be taking great care of me later, so-” you manage to cut him off with a stealth elbow in the ribs, sparing the poor cashier from one of his terribly inappropriate rants.

—----------------------------------------------------

Home is comfortable, much unlike the harsh summer weather and the beating sun that waited for you outside. Unlocking the door, you've met with the soft hum of the air conditioner, the cool air kissing your skin. Matty lets out a relieved sigh as he finally sets down the bags, stretching his arms over his head. You catch a glimpse of his lower stomach, a small trail of hair traveling from his belly button and into the waistband of his pants, which were hung obscenely low on his hips.

“Do you want to-” you're cut off by Matty’s lips on yours, one hand gripping onto the base of your neck, the other pulling you in by the waist. Despite being almost three inches taller, you manage to overpower him quickly, pressing him into the wall behind him. He gasps against your lips, his fingers digging into your hips as you grasp him by the hair, tugging him down to meet you.

“Desperate, much?” you say condescending, one of your fingers trailing down the hollow of his throat, grazing the skin enough to leave a faint red mark.

He loved seeing the aftermath of you on his body, and you’ve caught him admiring himself in the mirror more than once, running his fingertips over the bruises and scratches, reliving the moments that caused them. It's not like he left you bare, either, the complete opposite, actually. Your neck was full of hickeys in various colors, some more faded than others.

He loved using his teeth, and had once left an incredibly obvious bite mark on the skin just above your collarbone, getting disgusted and borderline traumatized looks from both Ross and George. Adam never did mention i, but you caught him stealing glances at both of you, his tell tale ‘what the actual fuck did you do’ look on his face.

“You’re one to talk, don’t think I didnt see how you looked at me back there.” he smirks against your lips, tongue swiping along your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth. You use your body weight to hold him up against the wall, pressing a knee right between his legs, a move he loved to use on you, and watching you grind against him is his favorite sight in the whole world.

His hips buck against your lower half, his hard-on brushing up against your thigh. He groans at the slight friction, repeating the action until you stop him.

“Please, fuck- please.” he breathes, eyeing the bag on the ground behind you with a look of pure lust on his face.

Your knees feel weak, your stomach flipping as he reaches out to touch your face, trailing his fingers down your jaw and onto your neck, lovingly pressing kisses all over your skin, almost as if to try and convince you of something.

Wordlessly, you grab him by the collar of his shirt, leading him down the long hallway and up the stairs, almost tripping. You near the bedroom, unable to take your hands off each other as he pathetically whimpers into your mouth, nails clawing at your back.

The door swings open and you push him forward until the back of his knees hit the bed, making him fall onto it.

“Been thinking ‘bout this for a while, haven't you?” he nods slowly, chest heaving from the sheer force of your kiss, leaving him breathless.

“You can’t imagine.” he answers, eyes looking up at you from his spot on the bed, wide and full of want.

“So pretty.” you whisper to yourself, reaching down to push his shirt up, revealing that little bit of hair on his stomach, so incredibly sexy it made your head spin.

“Take your shirt off for me, I'll be back.” you kiss him again, softly this time, not even looking at his reaction before turning around and disappearing through the door. Your legs carry you as fast as they can go, taking two steps at a time as you race downstairs, eyes settling on the hot pink paper bag left abandoned on the floor.

Rifling through the pile of various clothes, underwear, gags, toys; really anything you could think of, your breath hitches as your fingers brush against cold resin. Of course it was made of resin, ridiculously expensive as well, typical Matty. You laugh to yourself, taking a close look at the toy in your hands.

It was pale pink, hyper realistic veins running down the sides of it, the actual strappy part a deep purple, almost black. Your heart thrums against your ribcage, almost forgetting one vital thing: the lube.

The sight before you open the door again is one that should be chiseled into stone and hung up for thousands of years. Matty is on the bed, further up so that his head is resting on the metal bed frame up against the wall, it being more comfortable that way. His shirt is off, just like you had told him.

One thing made you freeze. His hand was covering his lower half, palming his obvious hard on through his insanely tight jeans. It looked painful, well hidden by the filthy smirk that tugged at the corners of his lips, making your heart skip a beat.

“Kept me waiting.'' His voice is low, raspy, and desperate, even if he tries to play it off. You move without thinking, watching his eyes flicker over to the toy in your hand, which you place onto the bed out of his reach.

“Not my fault you can't go five seconds without touching yourself.” you shoot back, kneeling onto the soft mattress.

“Sort of is, isn't it?” he sounds playful, almost giddy as you catch his lips in a kiss.

“You were begging so nicely before, what happened?” you fake pout at him, putting on a slightly condescending tone as he rolls his eyes at you.

“I caught my breath.” he says, hands settling on your hips as you straddle him properly, his aching cock grinding against the curve of your ass. It feels amazing, your ego swelling as you take him in, needy and wanting for you and you only.

“Yeah?”

“Might have to take it again.”

You get what he’s playing at immediately, reaching up to wrap your hand around his throat. Matty lets out a choked gasp, eyes widening at the sensation.

“Fuck-” he’s cut off by you pressing down harder, watching all the blood in his head rush down south.

“What? Couldn't quite hear you, speak up.” you taunt, loving watching him struggle to answer you, all that came out being needy gasps and curses.

“Please-” his breath hitches when you reach down to skillfully unbutton his pants with one hand, silently thanking the gods above he had decided to forgo a belt today, peeling the jeans off of him. He lets out a choked moan as you grip him through his boxers, wishing he had worn a pair of women’s panties, knowing it would rile you up even more.

“What? Use your words, Matthew, tell me what you want.” you tease, ignoring his silent begging, only slightly letting go of his throat, scared he wasn't properly getting oxygen.

“Touch me, please.” he manages to force out, tears of relief welling up in his eyes when you take him out of his boxers, stroking his cock lightly.

“This all for me? All because of that toy? Filthy, filthy boy.” his mind blanks, ecstacy overtaking his body and mind, the only thing he could think of was how fucking lucky he was. The strap is only visible in the corner of your eye as you kiss him hard, slipping your tongue into his mouth, drinking in every little gasp.

You dig your thumb into his slit, his hips arching off the bed and into your hand, spurts of precum leaking out of his tip. You smile at his reaction, one question still running through your mind. This was all so new, and you were riffing off of what you already knew he liked, trying to build up as much tension as possible.

“Have you done this before?” he takes a second to answer, slowly nodding his head. You motion for him to elaborate. A pang of insecurity rushes through you at the thought of him doing this with someone else, another person seeing him like this. You push it all down, turning your full attention to Matty.

“Only alone, trying some things out..” his voice is uncharacteristically small, eyes avoiding you as he stutters over the second part of his sentence, clearly a bit embarrassed.

“Oh yeah? Did it feel good?” you encourage him, desperate to make him feel as comfortable as possible. He smirks, and you can basically see the memories flash behind his eyes.

Alone, late at night. Curiosity striking, clothes hitting the floor of his old bedroom. A mess of lube and spit, fingers experimentally curling upwards and finally, finally hitting that perfect spot deep inside of him, making him moan into his pillow, trying to muffle the sound.

But of course, Matty has to do and say something so utterly stupid, it makes your eyes hurt from rolling them.

“It’ll feel so much better if you do it for me, darling. Treat me right and all, seeing as I am your girl-” you playfully hit his arm, effectively shutting him up. He wasn't fully wrong, but the way he worded it was purposefully supposed to make you cringe, your eyes screwing shut and hands going to cover your face in embarrassment.

“Shut up, what is your damage?” you ask, glaring at him as he tries his best to stifle his giggles. It's infectious, and soon you start laughing as well, falling into his arms, losing it at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Can you take nothing seriously?” It's a rhetorical question, but he still answers.

“Nothing.” he drags out the word, mocking you.

You take this opportunity to tug at his cock, wiping the smug grin directly from his face. It was satisfying, watching him go from cocky and borderline bratty, to a sweet, moldable putty in the palm of your hand, willing to do whatever you asked of him.

“A-ah oh fuck, i’m not gonna- stop.” he gasps, trying to push you off. You fight back, pinning him down using your entire body, your fingertips ghosting over his cock.

“Gotta get you ready to take me, don't want it to hurt, do you?” your voice drips with lust, relishing in the wanton sounds he lets out at your words. Matty looks at you, mouth slightly ajar as if trying to say something. You nod at him.

“I can- I can show you. If you want. We both know how much you like to watch me.” he gestures to the camera sitting on the nightstand, grinning from ear to ear.

“Go on.” you whisper, your voice cracking.

He flips around, and you use this little bit of time to slip your own clothes off, leaving your shirt and panties on, settling onto the bed behind him.

His hands reach for the bottle of lube, blindly feeling around for it. You hand it to him with a sickly sweet smile, making his stomach flip as he spreads his legs, a performative moan leaving his lips as he uncaps it with his teeth, pouring the liquid onto his fingers.

It's weird, seeing him in this position, facedown against the mattress, tugging his boxers down with his clean hand. He can feel your eyes on him, raking over his milky skin, watching him take a deep breath as the cool lube hits his skin.

“You look pretty.” you hear him snigger into the pillow at the breathlessness of your voice. “Right? Good genes, innit?” he says smugly, craning his head around to get a look at your annoyed expression.

“Oh fuck off.” you smack him on the arse, taking the piss out of his stupid comments.

He gasps, and now it's your turn to be smug, grazing your nails over the skin you’d just hit

“Seriously? That turned you on?” he nods, tracing his lube covered fingers over his hole, shivering a bit before pushing one in.

A string of moans and curses spill from lips, panting as his back arches at the intrusion. You watch him with wide eyes, taking every minuscule twitch of his body as he curls them slightly, going even deeper. You commit everything to memory, wanting this moment to last forever, and you reach out to trail your hands down his sides, digging your slightly grown out nails into his hips, making him moan into the pillows.

“Giving me a proper show then. Anything to get my attention, right?” you mumble, leaning over him as he fingers himself for you, groaning and twitching against the mattress, overcome with pleasure.

“It’s working isn't it?” he forces out, the feeling of your chest pressed to his back making his eyes roll back in his head, his tip leaking spurts of precum onto the sheets

“Fuck, yeah, its working.”

His fingers brush up against a certain spot inside of him and he quite literally shakes, arching and pushing down onto his digits, his body begging for more. You watch, entranced in every movement he makes, in a sort of daze.

You could sense him gaining back a sense of confidence when he peers back at you, seeing your blissed out expression at the sight of him fucking himself open for you, moans and whimpers going straight to the growing heat in your core.

“Wanna fuck me? Make me moan for you?” he teases, moving his lube covered hand to his cock, tugging at himself as you pull him closer. The strap next to you burns a hole into your brain, and you reach for it, hand gliding over the resin.

“Wanna take a pretty picture with that little camera of yours?” That was the final straw that made you scramble up, fumbling with the fastens of the toy, unbuckling them and slipping it over your underwear, the weight of it a bit strange.

“I’m going to make you eat those words.” you threaten, one of your hands threading through his hair, pulling his face up before dropping it back onto the pillows. He whimpers at the sharp pain radiating from his scalp, spreading all the way to his fingertips that clutch the sheets so tightly, his knuckles look pale white.

“It's what I'm counting on, darling.” he winks, arching his back towards you, grinding his arse against your strap. This was really happening. Sucking in a deep breath, you steady yourself on your knees, taking the toy into your hand, circling his hole with it. A sigh of pleasure leaves his parted lips as he relaxes into the bed, arse up and face buried into the dark blue fabric of his pillow.

The sound of the lube covering the strap is a bit awkward, and you both laugh lightheartedly, nervous and excited to do this with each other, to each other. He groans as you finally line up with his entrance, the tip teasing him as he bucks back onto it.

“Want me to go slow?” you ask, slightly nervous, scared of doing something wrong or god forbid, hurting him in any way.

“Fuck me slow, yeah?” His words drip with lust, raspy and deliberately drawn out. He notices your hesitation, and his hand reaches back to grab yours, rubbing reassuring circles into the skin of your palm.

“Jesus, you make it sound so filthy.” His vulgar words were nothing new, his cocky manner only another tool to get you to lose it on him, never showing mercy. Just like he liked it. Rough, hard, fast, never ending pleasure until both of you were fully satisfied.

“Stop being a tease and just fuck me.” he was now at the point of making demands, blatantly ignoring the imbalance of power between you. You tut at him, nails digging into the fat of his arse, making him wince in pain.

“Not in a place to be demanding things from me, are you now?” your tone is deliciously condescending, making his cock involuntarily twitch under him, begging for attention.

“You want it just as much as me.” he breathes loudly, a feeble attempt at trying not to sound as desperate as he really was, not wanting to admit defeat.

“Make me mess, fuck me dumb, I know you want to.” an animalistic groan rips itself from your throat as you push into him, feeling the smallest bit of resistance at first.

Remembering his little reaction from earlier, you experimentally smack the side of his arse, right where its curve meets the top of his thigh, and he shudders beneath you, crying out in pleasure. You don't know what you're doing, but you do gain a flicker of confidence when he grinds down against the bed, mumbling into the pillow. Asking him to speak up, his face is now visible as he moans, hips pushing back onto the toy as you pull back out, leaving him feeling empty.

You snap your hips forward, a bit harsher this time, watching and listening for his reaction, wanting to make it feel as good as possible for him. He was trusting you with the most intimate part of him, giving up almost all control as his arms go slack under him, nothing holding his body up anymore.

“Fuckk, that's so good.” he breathes as you set a delicate but even rhythm, speeding up a bit with every thrust as he slowly gets used to the sensation. It takes a few minutes of fucking him at an agonizing pace until you feel his whole body tense up, a choked moan spilling from his parted, spit covered lips. Your breath hitches at the sight of him drooling, eyes screwed shut in pure bliss.

“OH FUCKK- right there right there right there jesus christ, fuck-” he curses, clawing around him, trying to find something to bring him back down to reality as your strap brushes up against his G-spot. There's a wet patch on the bed under him, precum covering the blue fabric of the sheets.

“Sound so pretty, all for me.” you hit that same spot over and over as he pathetically cries out your name, begging for you to go faster.

“Please, it's so good, so good, fuck me please oh FUCK.” you oblige, gripping onto his hips as you slam back into him, his back arching sharply as you pant, your cheeks a bright red. Your whole body is flushes crimson, your cunt clenching around nothing as you get off to the sounds and movements he makes, your witty words getting caught in the back of your throat

You're so incredibly turned on that everything else disappears around you, your only focus being a desperate Matty under you, writhing in pleasure as he experiences actual heaven, his whole body covered in a thin layer of sweat, making him glow in the dim light of the bedroom.

Sinful sounds fills the bedroom, reverberating off the walls making you feel dizzy, partially from the effort and partially from the boy in your bed, whimpering your name betweens strings of curses, begging you to just fuck him harder.

Matty, though he hates it, is awfully predictable. He has cues that let you know when he’s close, his voice pitching up several octaves as you slam into him, never faltering.

You take the opportunity to press your chest against the curve of his back, hard nipples rubbing against his skin through your thin shirt. Your voice is low, whispering lewd promises against his ear, occasionally nibbling at the skin, sucking a hickey into it.

“Gonna cum for me? I can see you leaking all over the sheets, dirty boy” he cries at your words, tears of overwhelming pleasure streaming down his face, leaving small stains on the pillow.

“Yesyesyes please don’t stop- so close.” he begs, every part of his body twitching and tensing, so close to the edge he could taste it.

You don't know what possesses you. Maybe it was his comment from earlier, his tone playful and teasing, eyes dark with desire.

“Wanna take a pretty picture with that little camera of yours?”

It's like a foreign force taking over your body. You still, ignoring Matty’s pleas for you to keep going, his hips bucking wildly onto the toy still deep inside of him.

“No- nonono please, i was so close, fuck.” you click your tongue at him, effectively shutting him up

He winces when you move, hand reaching for something on the nightstand, not even realizing what you were doing. The plastic is heavy in your hands, black lense staring back at you as you reposition yourself behind Matty, the tip of your strap teasing his hole.

He thinks you’ll continue as normal, that you'll give him what he’s been craving this entire time. All he wants to do is cum, mind so clouded with desire that he could barely speak properly

Your hands threads into his hair, his neck limp as you pull him up by it. Your fingers find the shutter, knowing you had to act fast to get the result you so desperately wanted.

Pulling his head further back so his whole face was visible, you position the camera in front of it, the sight of the lense making Matty’s heart skip a beat.

Right as you take the picture, you violently snap your hips forward, thrusting into him at a brutal pace, making his face contort in ecstasy, mouth falling open, revealing a pink tongue between his lips.

The camera flash is disorienting for him, the shutter barely heard over his impossibly loud moans, the sounds making you feel weightless.

He lets out a high laugh as he fully gets what you’d just done, only proving his earlier point further. His little victory is interrupted by his impending orgasm, the combination of the pressure from your strap on his G-spot and the delicious friction of the sheets rubbing against his cock sending him into a lust driven frenzy.

His moans are high pitched, almost feminine as he buries his face into his slack arms, trying to bite back his noises. You tell him to quit it, demanding to hear every single cry that leaves his lips.

“You’re such a brat, acting like I cant have you fucking purring under me in the blink of an eye.” you speak, an intense feeling of power and control taking your body as you slam into him, licking up the skin of his bare neck, making him shudder under your touch.

“I promise i’ll be good- just please let me cum.” he’s a blubbering mess, tears rolling down his cheeks as you tug harshly on his hair, the pain only making it harder for him to hold off his orgasm.

“Please- I need it so bad- fuck, please.”

“Oh, you need it, do you?” you taunt him, your fingers moving to shove their way into his mouth, pressing down on his wet, hot tongue. The whimper he lets out as you gag him makes your brain short circuit, your eyes are fixed on the way he grinds his hips to meet your frantic thrusts, desperate to get himself off.

“Go on then, cum all over our nice sheets. Make everything dirty, just like you are, aren't you darling?” the filthy words spill from your lips before you could even think, and Matty stills for a second before moaning around your fingers, bucking against the mattress.

“So good, so fucking good- oh my god, fuck, feels so good-” his words are muffled by your fingers, and as much as you need to hear him, you let it slide, wanting your perfect boy to finally come undone. He cums with a scream, an actual, guttural scream of your name, convulsing under your touch as you reach around and grip his cock, working him through his orgasm.

He gasps as ropes of cum paint the sheets, covering your hand. You slow down your thrusts, not wanting to rip him out of his dazed state just yet. He whimpers as you pull out, feeling strangely empty without you filling up every inch of him. His body is limp against the bed, chest heaving trying to take in as much oxygen as possible as he comes down from his high, slowly but surely.

You yelp when a hand grips the side of your arm suddenly, pulling you down onto the bed next to him. Matty’s sweet smile makes your heart swell up with love as you make eye contact, his brown eyes drooped half shut in pleasure.

“Fucking mint.” he breathes, giggling as you roll your eyes at his utterly unsexy reaction to you fucking his brains out.

“Really?”

His smile turns into a grin as he pulls you in for a kiss, lips pressing firmly against yours. You hand cups his cheeks, wiping aways what's left of his tears.

“I fucking love you, that was world altering, fuck me.”

“I already did, remember?” the opportunity was right there, and you both erupt into a fit of laughter at your bad jokes, grinning widely at each other. Matty lets out a grossed-out groan when he accidently rolls into the wet patch he had left in the bed, crying at the feeling of the damp fabric against his bare legs.

But, in typical Matty fashion, he opts to just cope, too lazy and fucked out to do anything about it. You try to convince him to get up, shower, maybe do anything except roll around in his cum soaked sheets. He flat out refuses, gripping your waist so tightly you felt Matty-shaped bruises form on the skin.

He forces you to lay with him, not letting you get up.

“Did it hurt?” you ask tentatively, genuinely curious. He shakes his head, trying to describe the sensation.

“A bit, but it felt really fucking great after about two seconds, so totally worth it.” he kisses you again, softer but still passionate, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down lightly.

“Did you like it?” he asks, trailing a finger up and down your arm, scratching it comfortingly.

All you can do is smile, the memory of what you felt making you giddy.

“I felt powerful.” you confess, a faint blush spreading onto your already flushed cheeks. Might as well let it all out, right?

“You like being powerful?” you nod your head, confirming the sneaking suspicion he’s had since that very first night on his living room sofa.

“I like it when you hurt me.” you laugh, that information having been painfully obvious for a while now.

“I know, darling, you make it so obvious.” he curses at you for quote un-quote ‘kink shaming’ him, immediately mentioning your little knack for photography.

“What do you do with the pictures?” you’ve never told him what happens to the polaroids after they properly develop, stashed in your nightstand drawer.

“I don't kiss and tell.” you snigger at his hurt reaction, now even more desperate to know what goes on in your mind when your finger presses down on the shutter, immortalizing Matty in a picture as small as the palm of your hand.

“That does not work if I'm the one you kissed, I’m afraid.” you dismiss him with a shake of your head, watching the hope leave his face. He nags you further, offering all sorts of services to get you to confess to him.

“I’ll show you sometime.” his eyes light up, ready to make yet another filthy comment. You press a finger to his lips, shushing him like he was a misbehaved child, smirking at his reaction.

“Only if you're good, though.” he nods his head so eagerly, you're afraid he might get whiplash as he shuffles closer to you, nuzzling his face into your shirt (well, his goal was clearly your tits, but you didn't need to know that.)

“I'll be so good for you, you’ll regret ever denying me.” you laugh, vowing to hold him to it.

167 notes · View notes

sugar-coat-it · 2 months

Text

Body piercer! Matty part three

Part 1, Part 2

I missed writing for this man so much my god he is my everything. If you haven’t read the other parts, go ahead and do that first for context perhaps!

Fem! Reader

Contains: Mutual pining, cutie newly established relationship, mention of marijuana, proud concert bf Matty, him being protective of girlie at the show, exhibitionism (light petting in the crowd), rough quickie (unprotected), public sex (bathroom), fingering and fucking on the counter, Matty puts his hand over her mouth, mirror sex, choking (with jewelry)

WC: ~6.3k

—-------------------------------------

PART THREE- Your new boyfriend takes you to a punk show, ending with a quickie in the venue bathroom

—-------------------------------------

Both you and Matty knew in your hearts that this wasn’t just a fling. Flings didn’t stay up for endless hours on the phone, knowing damn well that you both had work the next morning. Flings also didn’t think about each other for every waking minute, always sending each other sentimental messages when things reminded them of each other. And, they certainly don’t touch you the way Matty touches you: like he’s like he’s been starved of you his entire life. He’d frankly been losing his mind, constantly daydreaming at work as he stared at the Polaroid of the two of you he kept at the front desk, knowing he couldn’t stand not calling you his girlfriend much longer. Not after the past couple of weeks you’d been seeing each other had been some of the best of his life. He was so antsy over the fact that he couldn’t actually call you his that it was eating him alive, where else would he ever find someone as perfect for him as you? His work friends teased him endlessly for being so head over his platform boot heels, telling him how he needed to lock you down as soon as possible. He endearingly calls you his “favorite client”, but you’ve quickly become his favorite everything (“No. You don’t even get it, mate,” he’d said, rambling on to some poor guy whose ears he was piercing, “she's like… the light of my life, really”). But, considering that you couldn’t close your eyes without picturing his pretty brown irises staring back at you, his eyes crinkling at the edges with all his twinkling, wild mirth, you weren’t faring much better.

Just as you’d hoped from that first night together, his sleepy eyes were in fact now a constant in your life. He asked you to be his girlfriend after taking you back to the same cafe where you’d had your blind date. Needless to say, it was an enthusiastic yes on your part, and everything has been so much brighter since, you can hardly imagine your life without all of his ruckus. Your days with him are long and lazy, and the nights are even longer, often spent wrapped up in his sheets or giggling while curled up on his couch after a smoke session.

You’ve learned a lot about Matty in the time you’ve been together. Like his tendency to leave things in your flat, his ungodly marijuana tolerance levels, and his love for his puppy Mayhem. You’ve also found that he takes his music very seriously. Listening to music is like a ritual to him, one that he refuses to partake in with “trashy” music. You call it snobbery, he calls it having good taste, and lately, he’s been trying to share that taste with you. He’s almost been subtly brainwashing you into getting into his bands, playing their songs in his car, burning some of their tracks on his CD mixtapes for you (always scrawled with cute Sharpie doodles and bad handwriting), humming the melodies of his favorite songs to you while cuddling. Honestly, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t working, you’ve found yourself adding his music to your playlists, combining your styles much like how the mohawked man has slowly rooted his way into every corner of your life.

So of course, words couldn’t describe how thrilled he was when you agreed to see one of his favorite bands play at a punk rock show. He’d approached you with the idea tentatively, explaining that it was fine if you didn’t want to go, he’d just take one of his mates from work if so. The way his face lit up when you said yes, your heart could have burst as you watched his eyes sparkle with pure unbridled joy. Then, he leaned in and kissed every inch of your face, ignoring your giggles and protests of him tickling you while he declared how much you were going to love it.

When the day of the show arrived, you kept your outfit simple: baggy, ripped jeans, a white tank top, a band hoodie, and a studded belt you recovered from the depths of your closet, figuring you’d at least blend in with the grungier crowd that way. You put on one last thing to complete the look, hooking Matty’s chunky, silver chain (that of course, he’d left on your dresser) around your neck. You smile to yourself as you tuck it under your clothes, liking the feel of having him close to your heart like this. When did you become such a sap?

Meanwhile, Matty was pacing around your flat, making sure he had everything he needed and that you’d get there in time for doors. His reasoning for being punctual was much less about him than it was for you. He wanted you to fully experience being close to the stage because he knows how much you like to take pictures at shows, your constantly full phone storage being a telltale sign of that. He was going full-on concert boyfriend mode, also keeping your lipstick and your wallet in his little hip pouch so you wouldn’t have to worry about carrying anything but your phone. He’d clearly thought this through quite a lot, he’d been looking forward to it for weeks.

A sudden kiss to his cheek quiets the hum of his overactive mind when you approach him, his furrowed brows sloping to a soft look of adoration as he insists on you standing still so he can take a good look at your outfit. He holds his fingers up in front of him in the shape of a square, squinting one eye closed like he’s framing you for a memory. Sure, the relationship was shiny and new, but something about the way he looked at you told you this wasn’t going to dull with time’s cruel hands, not any time soon at least.

“Ohh, yeah. Very punk rock, baby,” he smiles slyly, chuckling as you roll your eyes.

“Hardly! I don’t exactly have the wardrobe for this.”

“Shh, nonsense. You’re like a regular Joan Jett, babe. But hotter.”

“But hotter? Wow,” you laugh, now glancing down at the jewelry adorning his hands and wrists, “I like your bracelet.”

Matty cringes, sucking a breath through his teeth while looking up towards the ceiling. He recalls just how he’d obtained said bracelet as a teenager with something to prove. He was never a bad kid, just a highly restless one who got bored too easily. Besides, he never got in any real trouble since his parents would have strung him up by his toes otherwise.

“Erm, thanks. I think I nicked it when I was a teen.”

“You were a delinquent!?” you exclaim, causing Matty’s loud laughter to ring through the apartment.

“That’s a strong term, innit? Let’s call it… misguided… and stupid. Now c’mon, out the door, miss.”

You shake your head playfully as he shoos you out of the flat, imagining a younger version of your boyfriend getting into all sorts of mischief. You can almost perfectly picture his toothy, boyish grin as he runs around the streets of his hometown with his mates by his side, freckle-faced and carefree, his curls in an unruly mop on his head. You wonder if you would have gotten along with him in his younger, wilder days. An odd part of you hopes he still would have liked you.

“Why do you still have it?” you ask as you start your walk to the train together. “What can I say? I’m unbelievably sentimental.”

The train ride is quiet, you share his wireless earbuds and listen to music side by side. The deal was that the queue of songs switched back and forth, you got to play one song, then him. He leans his head against your shoulder, the muss of hair atop the shaved sides of his head grazing your neck. He almost falls asleep as you start to scratch the top of his head. But, inevitably, all of his energy comes rushing back to him when the train comes to a halt. Immediately, he’s grabbing your hand to bound down the street to the venue, shouting about how good of a spot you’re going to get.

—---------------------------------------------

Once inside, at a glance, you don’t exactly fit in here. A sort of insecurity festers in you as you eye some of the girls dressed in spikes and leather, they looked like they belonged here, and so did your boyfriend. But, you try to shake it off nonetheless, even if you didn’t feel nearly as cool as you wanted to. This place was like the high council of people who exclusively wear clothes with tears in them.

Matty stands close behind you as you pack in with the rest of the grungy-looking crowd. His hands are on your hips as he glances around, making sure that you have enough space to stand comfortably. He knows how these shows can get, and he’s made it his personal mission to make sure no one ruins the experience for you. He shoots a look at any guy who tries to stand too close to you, the coldness of his stare sending them inching away from your personal space with cowardice. In an instant, the mean look is wiped off his face as he glances down at you, seeing how happy you seem to be there with him. He leans down, the cool metal of his chain grazing your neck as he speaks near your ear, just loud enough so you can hear him over the buzz of chatter throughout the venue.

“Can you see alright?” he asks, giving your hips a little squeeze.

You nod with a smile, having a fairly clear view of the stage. You’re only about three rows back thanks to Matty’s punctuality. You turn your head, grasping the necklace around his neck gently before pulling him down further so you can kiss his cheek. A grin breaks out on your boyfriend’s face, he can’t help but chuckle at your little move, he loves it when you get bold with him. His lips brush against your ear as he murmurs “little minx” before standing back up to his full height.

Matty talks over the pre-show music as he tells you a bit of background about the bands playing tonight, prattling on about who plays what and what makes them so cool. You listen to him with an enamored look plastered on your face, nodding along even when you have no clue what he’s talking about, but what else is new? It only makes you adore him more with every detail rattled off from the depths of his mind.

“... and this one here I don’t know shit about, to be honest. I reckon they’re probably fine though,” he shrugs, showing you the lineup on his phone.

You squint at the screen, tapping your nail against one of the names you recognize because of him. You blink up at him prettily, knowing he’s going to get a kick out of what you say next.

“This is the one with the guy who plays the drums with two pedals, right?” you recall, tilting your head at him, knowing damn well that you’re laying it on thick.

“Yes!! Yes, exactly,” he beams, his eyes instantly lighting up before he presses an enthusiastic kiss to your temple, “That’s my fuckin’ girl. The coolest girlfriend.”

Soon, the show begins, and Matty lets out an excited whoop as the first band makes their entrance, the one he’d bought the tickets for in the first place. He lets go of your hips, taking a small step back to give you the room to dance if you want to. He’s so considerate of you, it makes a glowing sort of warmth swell in your chest. You glance back at him and he gives you two thumbs up, his face scrunching up with a grin that’s so earnestly Matty, you have to resist the urge to just grab him and kiss him till your lips are raw right in the middle of the crowd. Not to mention how fucking good he looks tonight, his tank top allowing his tattooed arms to be on full display, and it should be illegal how tightly those black leather pants cling to his legs.

Your attention turns back to the stage as the first notes ring through the small venue, grungy guitar chords echoing off of the walls. Nothing gives you the same feeling as live music does, the pure thrill it makes rush through you is unmatched (sorry, Matty). The music is harsh, it grates on your ears, but in the best way possible. It’s invigorating, fucking electrifying, it’s thrumming in the hollow of your chest. You feel alive. Matty leans over to see it all happen from just a step away, watching the stage lights reflect in your eyes. He hadn’t looked at the band once, this was far more mesmerizing than anything that could be happening up there. You’ve completely captured his attention, and when you start bobbing your head to the beat and singing along to the chorus, Matty almost drops to one knee right then and there. He’s already mentally noted that this song will in fact be played at your wedding reception.

As the set goes on, his eyes stay on you for the majority of the time, he’s just so taken by watching you have this much fun hearing his music, which is now your music too. He’s simply beaming with pride. Every time you look back at him with that thrilled look on your face while you’re moving to the rhythm only solidifies to him that you’re his absolute dream girl. And of course, he’s having the time of his life too. Matty mouthes along to all of the words, nodding his head in a way that makes his quaffed mohawk bounce with his movements. And, shit, it’s hot in the crowd, you can feel the heat radiating off of the bodies moving around you. The hoodie you brought may have been an oversight, you can practically feel your mascara melting off of your lashes.

The show goes on, and when the moshing in the middle of the crowd gets increasingly rowdy, one man gets shoved and sent hurtling past the bodies between you and the mosh pit. You quickly hold your hands out to brace for the impact, knowing this can’t end well as you prepare to meet your leather-jacketed doom. The man is visibly very intoxicated and he would have stumbled straight into your body from the momentum if Matty’s hands hadn’t shot out to block him, catching him by his shoulders.

“Oi! Watch where you’re fuckin’ going, fuck’s sake!” Matty spits, sending him back toward the pit with a light push.

Now, had Matty done his fair share of moshing and getting absolutely catapulted into other people at breakneck velocity? Yes. It’s not even entirely the guy’s fault that he almost crashed into you, he was pretty drunk and didn’t have his wits or his balance about him, but in Matty’s mind, he might as well have tried to tackle you to the ground WWE style.

“I could have caught him!” you argue over the music, laughing at the bitter look on your boyfriend's face.

Matty raises an eyebrow at you and shakes his head with an amused smile, but doesn’t argue. Maybe you could have, but he wasn’t about to let some sloshed idiot break his girlfriend's back because that’s his job, dammit.

The band’s set is finished with a bang, the final chords echoing in your ears as you try to catch your breath from moving almost nonstop, your heart thundering against your ribs. You turn around to face Matty with a giant grin plastered on your face, letting out a breathless, excited laugh. He just chuckles, eyeing the strands of hair sticking to your face from the sheen of sweat, your smudged makeup rimming your wide eyes. He’s not in much better shape, his tank top is clinging to his body like a second skin. By this point, your hoodie feels like it has its own climate, and you’re dying to peel it off.

“Fun?” he asks, as you start to lift the fabric over your head.

“Oh my god, yeah,” you breathe, your voice muffled by the hoodie.

“I-”

His next words die in his throat as his eyes immediately snap to your chest, his breath catching as he spots the clear outline of your nipple piercings through your drenched, white tank top and- was that one of his chains around your neck? He feels a stir in his tight leather pants as his mouth slightly drops, he can’t remember ever being so instantly and completely turned on. Heat ripples through his body, climbing up to his face as he shamelessly stares at your tits. Not only were you showing off his skillful work, but your pretty neck was adorned with the chain he’d forgotten all about at your place. It might even look better on you than it does on him.

You’re tying your hoodie around your waist when you catch the look on his face, your brows knitting together with confusion till you follow his gaze and find your piercings proudly displayed through your shirt. As the realization dawns on you, you look up at your boyfriend with a coy smile. Matty shudders, lust crowding his mind as he struggles to come up with a coherent thought, one that isn’t wildly pornographic. He can actually feel his hands tense with the urge to grasp, to lay claim to you with his fingertips. You simply look up at him through your lashes, watching him short-circuit right before your eyes.

Before he has the chance to say or do anything, the next band comes onto the stage, the crowd roaring to life a second time. You give him a knowing look before turning back around to face the direction of the music. Matty swallows hard, raking a hand through his mohawk like he’s grappling with demons… and losing.

The music is nothing more than a pulsing beat in his skull, his attention is fully on the back of your head. He begins to inch forward to you, his hands finding a home on your hips while you vibe to the beat. He brings your hips back against him, feeling your movements stutter as the protrusion in his trousers presses into your ass as if to say “Feel what you did to me?”. You get the message loud and clear, draping your weight against him, your head lolling back against his shoulder as you both rock to the beat of the drums, sweaty skin to sweaty skin. Matty’s hands begin to wander, mapping over the damp fabric of your tank top, up your stomach, over your ribs till- oh. You gasp, the stage lights strobing under your closed eyes as he squeezes your tits through your top. Matty can distinctly feel the barbells through the thin fabric, it drives him fucking wild. Your lips part as you melt into him like honey, your skin feels like it’s on fire as the music blares through the venue. Your stomach swoops when he dares to flick the piercings with his fingertips, danger humming in your veins as he gets bolder, as if you’re not surrounded by a sea of people. Your eyes snap open, you quickly glance around to find that everyone’s far too enthralled with the show to notice, not that Matty would give a shit if they did. No one can hear the way you whimper when he pinches your nipples. You stare down at the large hands that possessively grope your breasts, feeling a throb resound between your thighs.

“Matty, you said this was the band you don’t know, right?” you call to him, your voice uneven and unnaturally high-pitched.

His heavily lidded eyes look almost black with the way they darken as he reads between the lines. Even if it was one of the bands he liked, he’s pretty sure absolutely nothing could stop him from doing what comes next, not when his dick is this hard, and you’ve teased him this salaciously. Wordlessly, Matty lets go of your chest and grabs your hand, leading you through the crowd towards the exit. He moves fast, the urgency in his strides and on his face likely making people move out of the way quicker. You’d feel concerned about losing your spot up front if your mind wasn’t so scrambled with need, your legs rushing to keep up with your lanky boyfriend.

Your head is spinning as he swiftly leads you into the nearest gender-neutral bathroom. Matty’s hands are on you the moment he closes and locks the door, he’s all over you in every sense of the term. You breathe in the musk of his sweat between the melding of your lips. The kiss is messy, it’s searingly hot as he desperately licks into your mouth, his fingertips digging into your hip bones. He backs you up blindly until your hips meet the bathroom counter, his hands reaching to undo the hoodie tied around your waist and toss it aside without breaking the kiss once. You didn’t think you could get much hotter than you were in the crowd, but now you’re burning up from the inside with white-hot desire.

Matty hastily turns you around to face the bathroom mirror, tagged with graffiti and littered with lipstick prints at the border. It was clear that the space was well-loved, but clean. A culmination of every aspiring artist and sticker enthusiast in the area, almost no spot on the wall was left untouched. Your eyes are drawn away from the decor as Matty grasps your jaw from behind you, turning your head to make you meet the almost feral look in his eyes through the mirror. He holds you that way as he leans down to press dire, open-mouthed kisses to your neck, his other hand snaking down your front to unbutton your pants. The feeling of his tongue stud soothing over faded love bites only makes you weaker in the knees. Matty fumbles with the zipper of your jeans for a moment before he shoves the clothing down your legs, the fabric pooling around your ankles. It’s clear that he’s not wasting time with his usual delicate, worshiping caresses of your thighs while he undresses you, this is an electrified frenzy.

“No bra, baby? Is that how you want to play?” he mutters, his lips grazing the column of your neck teasingly.

“I-I didn’t-” you begin to protest, only to be cut off by your own moan as he gives a rough pinch to your nipple through your top.

Matty follows the curve of your midsection with his hand, intense honey-colored eyes locked on you through your reflection, the image swirled at the edges with colorful spray paint. A shudder reverberates through your body as his fingers venture lower, dipping below the waistband of your soaked panties. Your body instinctually arches backward against his, mewling when his calloused fingertips brush against your swollen clit. It’s like he can light up every one of your senses with just a graze, your breath getting shallower by the second. You feel his stiff cock twitch in his trousers as you press yourself impossibly closer to him, every inch of his glowing skin flush against your back. Matty continues his loving assault on your neck as his thick digits gather the arousal pooling between your thighs. Your dazed vision trails downward as you stare at his hand shoved inside your panties from behind you, watching the fabric shift with every movement of his skilled hand. You whine as he circles your slit before beginning to sink his slicked fingers into you, your eyes squeezing shut as the dizzying pleasure thrums in your veins.

“Shhh. You know how much I love your pretty noises, baby, but be good, okay? Can you do that? Don’t want anyone to know what we’re up to, do you?” he murmurs, dragging his plush bottom lip against your ear lobe.

You nod wordlessly, afraid that if you open your mouth, noise will overflow from you uncontrollably, his fingers being knuckle-deep in you is just too damn good. If you don’t control yourself, anyone outside could hear you, could know how good your boyfriend is filling you with his fingers, satisfying you to your very core. The thought of it alone makes your heart hammer in your chest harder. You don’t want them to know… because that would be wrong, it would be undignified… it’d be… kind of hot.

His digits stretch you open as he begins to diligently pump them in and out of you, curling them towards the spot that he knows will make you see stars. He works quickly, his pace is almost feverish from his determination to make you fall to pieces as efficiently as he can. Matty’s other hand is groping your breast, squeezing the fullness of it, his rings pressing into your flesh through your thin tank top. You bite down on your lip hard enough that you think you might tear the flesh open, desperately trying to keep your whimpers quiet. Matty’s gaze on you is cautionary, his eyebrows slightly raised like he’s testing you, seeing just how much you can take.

The last of your defenses come crumbling down as the pad of his thumb presses against your clit, the flood of sensations making a moan burst from your throat as he begins to draw tight circles on the bundle of nerves. In an instant, Matty’s hand is off of your chest and is clasped over your mouth, muffling any noise. Fuck.

“I mean it. Pipe down, or I’ll stop,” he says sternly, smirking at you as he feels your walls flutter around his fingers.

“No- no, please don’t stop,” you babble against his palm like the idea of it was simply unbearable.

Matty’s hand stays firmly over your mouth as he withdraws his fingers from inside you, ignoring the way you squirm in protest, whining uselessly. He tugs your ruined panties down your legs, letting them join your pants in a heap around your ankles. It’s almost embarrassing how you can hardly contain your desire, but he likes it that way, knowing how needy you are.

“Matty, please, fuck, need it,” you mumble, and he can see the way your desire is clawing at you from the inside just from a glance.

“Be patient for me, my love,” he smiles, hurriedly pulling himself out of his uncomfortably skin-tight pants with his free hand, “You’ll get what you want. Being stuffed full with my cock, hm?”

You whimper as Matty nudges your legs further apart with his foot, leaning you forward over the counter onto your elbows. He whistles lowly at the sight of you, his eyes following down your spine, over the curve of your ass, and to your dripping pussy. You tremble slightly as he reaches between your legs, collecting your honey on his fingers before spreading it over his shaft, slicking himself with your arousal. A whine vibrates against the palm Matty holds over your mouth as you swing your hips in a desperate attempt to entice him. He just chuckles darkly, keeping his hand securely in place as starts to guide his cock through your folds, the head kissing your aching clit as he rubs it back and forth.

Matty doesn’t waste a second longer, you can hardly process it before he’s pushing inside of you, gasping as he fills you inch by inch. His fingertips press into the side of your face as he tightens his hold on your mouth to muffle your mewls, watching as your lashes flutter, your face contorting with pleasure. He can feel your hot, heavy breaths fanning into his palm, your chest heaving as he bottoms out inside of you. Matty groans loudly, tossing his head back as he’s fully surrounded by your velvety warmth, forgetting his own volume rules that he’d set for you. Hypocrite.

“Oh, fuck, you feel so good,” he sighs, reaching to pull your tank top over your breasts, “Stay like that for me, yeah? Wanna see your perfect tits.”

He barely allows you a moment to breathe before he’s snapping his hips against you roughly, letting out a strained grunt with every thrust. Sensations trickle up your spine like flickering flames as a muffled cry spills out of you. Matty angles his hips just right, hitting so deep inside you that you feel as though you’re being split open by each drive of his cock, it’s mind-numbing. Your whole body jolts against the counter with his purposeful movements, the edge of the porcelain biting into your hip bones. He can hardly focus on just one thing, his gaze darting from where he’s disappearing inside of you, to your gorgeous face, to your breasts. Matty’s raspy voice makes your eyes refocus on him, you watch in the mirror as he licks his teeth like he wants to devour you whole.

“You see how pretty you look? No, no, sweetheart, don’t look at me, look at yourself. God, isn’t she pretty?” he drawls, “You look so sexy, wearing my chain like that while you’re taking my cock.”

At his instruction, you meet your own eyes through the reflection, your eyebrows sloping as you realize that he’s right, you do look pretty when he’s fucking you. Your rosied cheeks, your blown pupils, your glowing skin… and your boyfriend’s hand over your mouth. Your chain bounces against your collarbones in tandem with your pierced tits, it’s no wonder he’s loving this position so much, he gets to watch everything at once. While you’re gazing at yourself, Matty reaches around and begins to rub two fingers on your clit, swirling them in intoxicatingly quick figure eights. You watch your own eyes go wide as the pleasure ricochets through your bones, making you light-headed. This must be the expression Matty lives for when he’s got you like this, the face to his sweetest wet dreams. You’re almost mesmerized by seeing yourself get railed to high heaven, it’s sort of an odd feeling.

In one swift motion, Matty lets go of your face and grasps the chain around your neck, pulling it taut against your throat from behind, ripping a shocked cry from your lips.

“Ohh, she liked that one,” he grins lazily, tilting his head back with a groan as he feels your walls clamp down on him like a vice, “Shit, not gonna last if you keep doin’ that, god damn.”

It feels like he’s stolen the air directly from your lungs as he lightly chokes you with the silver links you’d so slickly “borrowed” from him. Even just the slight restriction of oxygen has you reeling, your eyes rolling back as your hands claw at the counter, your whole body buzzing with mortifying heights of exhilaration. It’s a dizzying combination of thrill and precarious risk as Matty keeps a tight hold on the chain while fucking you with such vigor that you don’t feel attached to your body, the counter being your only loose grasp on reality. It only makes every drive of his cock feel that much more visceral, the tension coiling tighter in your belly. Heat prickles at your cheeks and the bridge of your nose at the purely obscene sounds of him thrusting into your sopping cunt, skin on skin echoing through the small space while his fingers abuse your clit.

It’s all building up so fast, quicker than usual due to Matty’s frenzied rhythm, his hips meeting yours again and again, unrelentingly. You bite back a wail as the tension so deep inside you reverberates in crackling pangs, threatening to break you to pieces as you arch backward. Your hips writhe against his hand both like you’re chasing the friction and trying to thrash away from its intensity. He can tell you’re on the edge of euphoria, teetering with every swipe of his fingers, every slam of his hips. He gives the chain a harsh tug, knowing it’ll send you spiraling into the depths of pleasure just beyond your fingertips.

“Fuck!” you gasp, one of your hands flying to grip his wrist as your mind goes impossibly blank, your nails digging into his skin, “I’m gonna- I-I can’t!”

“Shit, me too, angel. So close. Oh, fuck, cum for me, sweet girl. Cum for me while I fill you up,” he grunts, a burst of energy coming over him as he manages to piston into you even more brutally.

It crashes over you like a thunderous wave, spiraling through you from your dizzied head to the tips of your curled toes. He lets go of the chain, putting his hand over your mouth again to stifle your cry, the disorienting rush of oxygen almost making your knees give out from underneath you, and they just might have if Matty hadn’t kept you supported against the counter. It feels like pure white light is fizzling under your eyelids as Matty makes you reach the stars with your climax, dousing you in pulsating bliss as you clench around him tightly. He lets out a deep, animalistic sound as he spills inside of you, warmth flooding your insides as he fucks you through your orgasm, his rhythm beginning to falter from the effort.

“Fuuuck!” he hisses through gritted teeth, along with other breathy strings of profanities.

Slowly, his body stutters to a stop, giving one last roll of his hips before he collapses over you as delicately as he can, enveloping you with his chest to your back. He lovingly presses kisses to the back of your neck as your head hangs forward slightly, both of you gasping to catch your breath.

“H-holy shit, babe. You’re so good…you’re fucking incredible,” he mutters, seeming just as dazed as you are.

He can’t seem to stop complimenting you and loving on you as he keeps you held up with his hands on your hips, rubbing little circles into your skin as you both come down from the highest of highs. The afterglow clouds your head in a way that makes you feel like you’re floating with Matty being your only anchor to the ground.

“Matty…” you mumble, reaching back blindly for his face.

“I’m right here. Right here, love,” he whispers, guiding your palm to his cheek.

You smile warmly as you feel the scruffy sides of his head at your fingertips, Matty keeping his hand over yours sweetly. At the same time you both glance upwards at the mirror, letting out simultaneous giggles as you appreciate the state you’re in. He leans to kiss your cheek, peering into your eyes adoringly through the reflection, pulling your top back down over your breasts.

“Oh my god… we’re a mess,” you snort, rubbing aimlessly at your runny mascara with your free hand.

“You mean you’re a mess, I look damn good,” he jokes, starting to slowly ease you both back up into a standing position.

You both let out a breathy sound as he pulls out of you slowly, his cum beginning to streak down your thighs. Of course, Matty stares, swallowing thickly like he’ll never quite get used to the sight while he shimmies back into his pants. Diligently, he reaches for a handful of paper towels, keeping a gentle hold on your hip. You reach to try and smack his arm when he laughs at the way your legs are trembling, your knees wobbling due to how hard he’d railed you. He dodges the blow, grinning at you triumphantly.

Matty gently wipes away the residue of his pearly release, whispering a hushed “I know, I know” when you squirm at the sensitivity. Once he discards the paper towels, he kneels down to pull your underwear and your jeans back up, kissing his way up the outside of your leg as he does so, looking into your eyes with a playful glint. He kisses you deeply while he buttons your pants with nimble hands, not even letting you lift a finger as he takes care of his girl. You throw your arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss as he teases his tongue piercing along your bottom lip just to make you shiver.

“My perfect girl,” he mumbles against your mouth.

You stay in the bathroom for just a little longer, kissing and whispering sweet things to each other while your bodies fully come down, Matty shouting at whoever keeps intermittently knocking on the door to fuck off. You can’t help but feel a little tinge of guilt in your stomach for “christening” the restroom the way you did, but you highly doubt you were the first.

After he reassures you that the makeup streaked down your cheeks is “hardcore” and that you should leave it the way it is, you finally leave to re-enter the show (not before one final, drawn-out kiss, of course). Your boyfriend keeps you close by his side, his fingers interlocked with yours as you find yourselves at the very back of the pit, scattered with only a few other people. Matty guides your arms around his neck, grinning at you like a fool as you start to rock back and forth to the rhythm of the drums. His smile is infectious as he leans in to rest his forehead against yours, singing to you when the song reaches its chorus. He looks incredibly dorky as mimics the wail of the guitar solo, swinging his hips while his hands rest comfortably on your waist, almost like you’re about to slow dance. You tell him as such and Matty just tosses his head back with a laugh like a little kid. His eyes are sparkling, but not just from the iridescent stage lighting, it’s the look he gets only when he’s with you. You feel your heart swell in your chest as you continue to dance like you’re the only two in the venue, and he looks at you like you’re the only woman in the whole world.

—-----------------------------------------

SO I was a liar and I did write another part. I intended this to be a blurb but I had so many more thoughts about them and their relationship eeeeee

The ending was soooo “do you wanna dance, dance at the back of the hall”

I love them. I need them to be happy forever actually.

This one is dedicated to my lovely lovely friend B (@haveyouseenherlately) thank you so much for the ideas, you get body piercer like no one else, queen. Love you!!!

Go check out her stuff if you haven’t it SLAYS <3

#body piercer!matty #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #the 1975 smut #the 1975 x reader #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfic #matty healy x y/n #the 1975 x you

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doeshetakecareofu · 3 months

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yard work isn’t always work

warnings: mature content. matty x fem!reader. does this even make sense? idk. yardman matty lol ;) i didn’t proofread omg

note: im so rusty sorry. also it’s just super blurbish as the story goes on. i’m done ignoring this blog (maybe).

you shuffled down the stairs. the sunlight was bright, streaming through every window you passed, no matter which side of the house you were on.

following the sounds of dishes rattling, you groaned your way into the kitchen and slid bonelessly into a chair at the bar. you threw a disdainful glance at the window, the persistent sound of someone mowing the lawn grating on your nerves.

"isn't it too early to be up? what time is it, anyway?" you asked, rubbing your palm over your eyes and blinking at your mother where she stood at the stove.

“you know it’s the yardman,” her voice lilting with good-natured sarcasm. she pulled a plate from the cupboard, "want some eggs while i'm dishing?"

you hummed, not really sure if your stomach was ready for food yet, but ended up nodding anyway. "okay."

your mother scooped a tall pile of scrambled eggs onto a plate, topped them with a piece of buttered toast that slid off the eggs. she slid it toward you. as soon as the scent of the breakfast wafted around you, your salivary glands kicked in, ravenous.

you’d shoveled several bites into your mouth, pausing to rip off pieces of cooling toast. “thank you for this," you mumbled around another mouthful of food.

your mother smiles, her wrinkles prominent and jutting in her skin. she pulls bottled water from the fridge, and quickly foils an egg sandwich placing it next to you. “who’s this for?” you pick up the sandwich, warm off the cool marble. “the yardman, he’s been working on the lawn since six.” you shoot her a petulant look letting the foiled food drop on the bar. your mother unties her apron pulling it off her neck. “give it to him will you? i’ll be back i have errands to run.”

you groan at your mother shoving more egg into your mouth sulking at the thought of having to step outside.

•

you slide the glass doors open, stepping onto the patio searching for the man. your father pays this man to landscape, garden and even clean the pool. you’ve caught glimpses of him here and there but you’ve never spoken to him. in hand is a dripping water bottle, the condensation leaks down your wrist onto your elbow and you wipe at it stepping bare onto the grass. you hear the sound of mowing still, this time near your side of the house where your room resides. you move through the grass peaking out from the corner of the house which shields you.

you see him there, pushing the lawnmower. he’s in a fitted tank top, tattoos galore they peak out from his chest littering his flexed arms. his overgrown curls are falling onto his face, and he lets out pants rubbing the sweat from his forehead onto his jeans. you hope he sees you and stops the mower as you’re not too keen on yelling over it. the man moves the mower closer to the clean patches of fresh grass that you occupy and quickly turns off the motor. you step closer to him awkwardly in your pajamas his food in hand.

“my mom made this for you,” you step closer to the man. he’s scanning your body for a long while until he speaks up. “thank you,” he clears his throat taking the items from your hand. when he takes the breakfast you wipe the last droplets off your arm, feeling exposed in your shorts. “um - yeah,” you gulp taking a step back. “you’re welcome.” you choke out backing away from the man’s gaze hopefully in the direction of the sliding door leading inside. you watch his lips turn into a crooked grin, twisting the bottle cap’s seal open.

•

“mom what’s his name anyway,” you snort out. your hand is cupping your chin in support as you look out the screen window. your mother is hunched over struggling to pull dinner out of the oven with mitts. she sighs asking you to set out a board to place the rotisserie on. “who hun?” you hop off the bar stool to rummage through the bottom cupboards for a board. you find a wooden one sliding it onto the marble in front of your mom as she places dinner on it to cool. she discards her mitts into the drawer, digging for cutlery. “the man that works on the yard,” you spit out trying to hide your embarrassment. you pick at your lips knawing at them raw. “i think it’s matthew? matty? maybe, i don’t know your father knows.” she shrugs stabbing into the chicken’s breast.

you nod releasing your lips from your teeth.

•

the next morning you awaken to the lul of the lawnmower. you scowl rolling out of bed and the sun meets you just as you push your curtains out of the way. you squint letting your eyes adjust to the man, he’s pushing the mower towards your window. he has sunglasses on today, and you’re confused as to why he’s mowing the lawn for the second time this week. you bang on your window catching his attention as he continues trudging the mower across the grass with a grin.

you roll your eyes stomping to the screen door in the kitchen quickly sliding it open to find him obnoxiously mowing parts of the grass closest to your window. “do you mind?” you shout at him from the patio. he flicks his sunglasses up revealing his daunting stare accompanied with a seamy smile. “im sorry, princess did i wake you?” he taunts as he tucks his glasses in the plaid pocket letting them hang from his button up. you roll your eyes crossing your arms over your breasts, “it’s rude you know? mowing right next to my window when i’m sleeping. my daddy is paying you after all.” your lips part with a huff scanning his attire.

hes covered in grass clippings and sweat. the bits cover his neck and arms that are freckled with sun spots. he’s dressed in denim and a wife beater under his green plaid which tucks into his jeans. his hair is scattered with grey along with some stubble coming in. you can tell he’s taking you in as well. his stare is gaping tearing into your heart and heat. you squeeze your legs together, and he stays staring with a knowing grin. “your daddy is paying me to clean up the yard, not worry about interrupting your beauty sleep.” he emphasizes the word daddy and you feel your heat pool from inside. you can feel the wrinkles on your forehead form and you squeeze your arms tighter around your chest before huffing.

“whatever, i’ll just tell my dad to fire your ass.” you mumble under your breath turning to the sliding door. you hear matty start up the motor with a whir and it’s running. he starts trudging forward with a grin, “counting on it,” he calls out over the mower. you step inside letting the cool tile invade your soles. you spin around furiously slamming the sliding door pulling the curtain leaving matty in the heat outside.

•

the next day matty is there as expected, tending to the pool. he’s scooping insects and weed clippings from the water tossing them overhead. you decided to go out for some rays with a book you’ve been putting off for a while. you rest in the chair nearest to the pool, holding the book open to your face. the words melt into your head overwhelmed by matty’s constant scooping and plopping of the pool net. “will you quit that?” you call out placing the book on your abdomen shielding your face from the sun. “it’s annoying.” you complain and matty’s on the other side of the pool just dipping the net back in, he clicks his tongue continuing.

you groan loudly, shutting your eyes listening to matty dip and splash around the pool’s surface. he moves across the pool at this time nearer to you and you take a look at him. he’s in his usual uniform a tank top and denim nothing too special. you watch his tattoo’s in the sun and his arms flex with every dip. matty turns with a grin over his shoulder knowingly - he’s got you. your skin prickles with unexpected excitement and you find the silence filled with your heart pounding in your throat.

matty takes a look at your splayed body, almost freshly tan in the tiniest bikin he’s ever seen. he’s an older man, the looks feel dirty coming from him. his toothy grin says it all when he leaves your side. he takes the tool out of the pool walking across the lawn to the tool shed.

the shed was tucked away in the corner of your backyard always forgotten by your father and mother. you watch matty make his way over opening the shed to rummage through it with clashes.

you lift yourself up off the chair, letting your toes touch the pavement of the side of the pool. matty’s left the shed door open and you peer into it from where you sit just across the yard. you lift yourself off the chair scurrying over to the freshly cut grass, the pieces gather on your ankles tickling you. almost skipping over to the shed you pry inside and matty finds you. he lunges at you slamming you against the other side of the shed, it rattles with a few tools falling over behind matty as he swings the door shut.

“fuckin’ slut, think you can prance around in this?” matty hooks a finger in your bottoms pulling at the bow letting it snap back to your hip. you wince bracing your chest with a whine. your heat pools, as matty holds your hips pinching at them harshly. he pulls at your bikini top almost ripping it off you and you hold onto the fabric writhing with him. he tugs at the middle of the bikini with a finger watching it snap back with your tits. “your body’s perfect.” he latches onto your neck trailing kisses never daring to leave a mark.

your legs squeeze together for pressure and matty tuts prying them open with his knee. he grins, pulling at the bows of your bottoms watching them drop to the plywood floor. he slides his fingers across your opening watching your face light up and your body fall into his. he lets a finger slide in working his way into you slowly. “fuckin’ wet cunt, wet for me?” he breathes out sliding another finger in and you’re moaning, hiding in his neck. his fingers slip out of you leaving you vacant as you huff. matty gives your cunt a slap, then another and you yelp. “whats that for?!” you cry out and your pussy clenches.

you tremble and he pulls his hand away to slap your pussy again. “you like me doing this, huh?” he swipes at your puffy clit, finally giving you what you’ve been wanting. “tell me, princess. you had a lot to say just now,” he refers to the pool and you shake your head while matty takes your jaw puppeteering you to look at him. he squeezes your lips together with pressure, “come on,” he clicks his tongue swiping faster.

“i- fuck. i love it” you mutter out disjointedly, “and what else?” he cocks his eyebrows holding back a grin. “‘m sorry,” you sputter out finally and matty’s fingers leave your clit. you cry at the feeling, just as you’re about to finish all over his hand - he stops.

he takes a step back unbuckling his belt with force letting it jingle for a while until he’s undone his button and zipper. he looks at you smugly “you wanna cum? get on your knees,” he slides his jeans down with his boxers cupping his erection. you’re surprised but still you fall to your knees where you stand, almost on fours crawling to matty’s feet where you sit back on your achilles tendons. he’s pushing his cock at your nose and lips letting it take the tint off your lips. you sit there with your hands on your knees looking up at him diligently waiting for him, as he’s pumping his cock in front of you.

you watch him slide his hand back and forth thumbing at his tip, groaning. you pout with your prettiest whine sticking your pink tongue out flashing it at matty. he breathes out pushing his cock onto your face again and you oblige opening your mouth sticking out your tongue for him. he slaps his cock onto your tongue pushing it back into your mouth. “put this dirty mouth to use,” he stifles out hitting the back of your throat and your throat rejects him sabotaging you. matty coos petting your head as his cock twitches in your mouth finding it’s space in between your swirling tongue. his hands end up at the back of your head slowly pushing his cock back into your mouth deeper, “dirty girl,” he moans and you gag again tears forming in your eyes. matty starts bucking slowly into your mouth holding your head in place. with every buck your throat rejects his cock until you’ve grown used to it, you start swirling your tongue at his length when you can and his hips stifle sloppily pushing into your mouth even more. you try your best to open wide, your jaw is slack and sore you almost think it’s locked with how long you’ve had it open.

your tears are dry now because matty swiped them away as soon as they came sliding down your scarlet cheeks. “you take this cock well,” matty grunts out slowing down for your poor mouth. you’re drooling at the sides of your mouth and you feel shame as it drops to your knees. “taking my cock in the shed like a whore, fuckin’ perfect,” matty’s words make you whine and he’s shuddering inside your mouth from the vibrations of your moans “gonna make me come, god” matty’s head falls back with his mouth ajar and your heart races with anticipation. you start bobbing your head eagerly letting matty’s hands fall in your hair gently grasping at it. you watch matty’s face contort with a whine releasing into your mouth, your eyes widen pulling him out of your mouth immediately to taste his cum.

your jaw is aching, pounding almost and you roll matty’s cum onto your tongue to show him proudly. he’s still in a haze looking down at your face, ruined as you swallow his cum. he stands you up reaching down with his calloused hand tugging at your jaw and you oblige standing to your feet. you look down at your knees, they’re wobbly and raw from the wood of the shed’s flooring. you wince and matty pulls you in for a peck, “poor girl,” he whispers pushing you back onto a work bench. the bench rattles with your father’s tools and matty grins. he guides you to flip over, pushing the rest of your body down onto the splintered wood.

matty squeezes at your waist and hips pawing at your ass giving it a strike. you whine eagerly standing on your tiptoes poking your ass out further and matty chuckles grabbing a handful of you to guide himself in. with his other hand he takes his cock to tease your slit, he staggers only clutching your ass tighter. “so wet, princess” matty mumbles under his breath, only for him to hear but it travels to your ears then straight to your gushing heat.

you anticipate matty’s length as he slowly pushes inside your entrence, you tense and he pinches your hips meanly. he drives himself into you and you gasp adjusting to him pressing your body against the split wood of the table. your legs buckle together and matty starts digging into your cunt, it’s sloppy and wet with him slipping out each time he pulls his cock back. matty observes his cock, slick with your heat before pushing it back in acquiring a moan from you. “fuck me, please.” you cry pressing onto matty’s front in desperation.

he smiles, “so drunk for this cock, i’m already inside you, princess” he growls draping over your body. matty’s buzzing and you jut your ass back at him to start moving. he removes himself from your backside, groaning when he starts drilling into you again. your fingers turn white pressing onto the table in desperation for something to hold onto. “what would your daddy do if he found me doing this to you?” he hums, grabbing a handful of your hair. your head rushes with humiliation and you clench around matty’s cock. “probably fire me, right? you’d never get fucked like this again.” you think about what it would be like to get caught and your body sinks. your father’s little girl turned into a whore by the yardman.

“your little body’s begging for me,” matty’s ramblings snaps you out of your thoughts as he pulls your hair gently and you’re whining again, letting him do as he pleases. “cunt is aching for me, can feel it” he hisses tugging on your hair and this time you cry out. “god, angel you like when i talk to you like this?” matty chokes out repeatedly slamming into you and you try to nod in agreement “makes me feel dirty,” you whimper and matty snickers letting your hair go tracing his fingers over your neck then your tits. he quickly squeezes at them in their covering letting his fingers trace across your ribs gently. your body itches with bliss, as you find a way to dig yourself deeper into the tool table to present yourself to matty.

“wanna come,” you babble matty’s name and his hand slides down to your clit while fucking into you. he swipes diligently pushing you over the edge as you cry out into the shed’s interior. you feel yourself cum all over matty’s cock and he growls “came all over this cock, good girl.” he keeps pumping into you, rubbing at your bud and you spasm out of sensitivity. “stop, stop, please -“ you smother another moan as matty surrenders leaving your clit alone. your body isn’t coming down as matty still bucks into you with sputtering hips. he lasts not even a minute longer slipping out of your cunt to cum onto your backside. you feel hot spurts on your lower back and you look over your shoulder to see matty fisting his cock for what’s left. he sighs contentedly spotting the cum on your back as he lifts up his boxers tucking his cock into his underwear then jeans.

he scavenges for your bottoms on the floor and you turn to him as he hands them to you. he watches you slip back into them tying the bows on each side. putting the bottoms back on feel dirty, especially with matty’s orgasm all over your back. you frown at him and he steps towards you, petting your head. he runs his fingers through your knotty hair clasping the back of your head for a peck on your forehead. matty hums massaging your head, “sweet girl,” as he plants another kiss unraveling his hand from your hair. he steps back taking a deep look at you before he leaves,

“tell your daddy,” he hesitates grinning, only to tease you. “that i’ll be here at six tomorrow morning to tend to the weeds out front.”

#matty healy #matty healy x reader #the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #the 1975 smut #matty healy x you #matty healy fic #the 1975 fanfic #this is trash fuck

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justleaveatnine · 12 days

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pink in the night - matty healy. part five.

you join the 1975 on tour as an actress starring in the narrative portion of at their very best alongside the lead singer, matty healy. he’s got big ideas and wants to redefine what a concert is, blurring the lines between fiction and reality. on stage together each night, it starts to feel less and less like acting. but is it the same for him?

masterlist

cw: drug use, smoking, panic attacks, a little more blood stuff (sorry)

wc: 5.4k

—

San Diego

“Please don’t kill me.”

“Huh?” You whip your head around to find Matty standing in front of you, somewhat anxiously for a reason you can't yet determine. You're lounging on the settee on the stage, watching the crew set up as you wait for your call time to begin prep. Matty comes to sit down beside you, and you sit back up from your supine position.

"Here," he says, practically shoving a paper in your hand. It's been ripped out of a notebook, jagged edges against your fingertips. You begin to read over the words scribbled on the page in dark black ink.

I glow pink in the night in my room I've been blossoming alone over you And I hear my heart breaking tonight I hear my heart breaking tonight Do you hear it too? It's like a summer shower With every drop of rain singing "I love you, I love you, I love you I love you, I love you, I love you I love you, I love you, I love you" I could stare at your back all day I could stare at your back all day And I know I've kissed you before, but I didn't do it right Can I try again, try again, try again Try again, and again, and again And again, and again, and again

You touch your finger to the words, softly brushing against the page. You turn your head to him sat beside you.

"Is this my poem?" you ask, bewildered.

Now he looks even more nervous. This is odd. He scratches the back of his neck and takes a deep breath. You aren't sure what to say, but he fills the silence before you have the chance to.

"Erm, when I read it, I couldn't stop thinking about how it basically perfectly connected to the fragments of this song I had started writing. That's why I took a picture of it," he gestures towards it with his hand, "so I could see if it fit."

He takes another deep breath, somewhat strained. "If I overstepped, or if you hate it-"

The words come out a hundred miles a minute. "Matty, this is amazing. I can't believe you did this. I-I-do you have any of it written to music yet? Or just this? Not just this, god, I mean-

He thankfully cuts of your overwhelmed rambling. He fishes out his phone from his pocket, opening up his voice memos. "Here, uh, I recorded the first bit with a guitar earlier."

He presses play. The sound of him singing over a simple guitar part rings through the empty stage. It's stunning. His voice singing your words conjures a feeling within you that is nearly indescribable, an electrifying somatic response. He's given the song an eerie but almost comforting feeling. One that almost compliments the show, you think to yourself. His fingers pluck the simple but beautiful backing on the guitar, and as he repeats the words of the chorus that you dream of him saying to you, you look into his eyes. His voice drones on, repeating the phrase over and over until it feels as if he invented the words himself. The whole thing, really. Not just those fatal three words that ring in your ears. It feels like what you wrote was simply words on a page, but the feelings running through your body and mind are all because of him. He took your haphazard notes on a score and turned them into a symphony.

You hold his gaze until the voice memo finishes with his voice clearing, the noise of him fumbling with the phone filtering through the speaker.

You let out a small laugh in shock. "That's so beautiful, Matty. I don't even know what to say, I'm a little overwhelmed."

"In a good way?" he asks, nerves seemingly returning.

You touch your hand to his, warmth tangling with electricity. "The best way. I never thought my poems would be anything more than just words on my pages, I didn't even plan on ever showing people."

"Well, that would be a damn shame, love. That poem is amazing, this was just as much you as it was me, don't get it twisted." His smile brings you so much comfort it almost makes you nauseous. You'd write a million books, hundreds of thousands of pages until your fingers bleed if it meant you had that smile directed to you forever.

You look back down at the phone. "I've never written a song before, this is kind of exciting," you let out a soft laugh.

"And it sure has hell won't be the last. You're letting me see more of that work of yours, darling. I'd love to try and write with you and not just parallel to you next time," he says assuredly.

How do you tell him that he's the subject of all of your prose, all the of lines filing up the pages of your notebook tucked safely under your pillow?

Inglewood

"Do you ever worry about more casual fans' reactions to the show?" You're sat in the booth of the bus as it sits through the inevitable evil that is Los Angeles traffic. You've got your knees pulled up to your chest as you read a novel, and he's flipping through a magazine across from you.

He exhales out his nose, and flips a page of the magazine "Nah, I usually am just thinking about the people who care the most about the band in everything we do. I think as an artist, you kind of have to, you know? Otherwise it feels like they are taking your devotion for granted. What brings this on?"

"Nothing, I just, uh, I saw a video on TikTok of someone asking if you were really as drunk as you appear up there and it just got me thinking."

He takes a moment to think. "It's hard, I won't lie. Seeing the opinions of people who don't know a thing about me, or the band, or what I'm trying to say, and go on and say that kind of stuff. But I've been exposed to it for years, and the concept of being famous far longer."

"Is there any part of you that worries about alienating people? I don't think you will, I mean, I'm just curious as to what you think."

He runs a hand through his hair before speaking. "Yeah, I do sometimes. But that is usually far removed from when I actually am performing, where I usually am so in my own head I don't give a fuck about what some random person who only knows one song thinks. And I don't mean that as an insult to them, not at all. I just mean in regards to performing, I'm only ever thinking of the message I want to say, and what the people who care most about us will think."

"I don't think there's many other artists who care about and think so highly of their fans as you do," you smile at him. He meets it before turning back to the magazine, and you return to the book leant up against your legs.

San Francisco

Your bare feet pad along the tour bus floor as you slip out of bed. The digital clock fixed to the wall near the front reads 3:24, and you rub your eye with your fist as you approach the kitchenette.

You open the fridge, the fluorescent light illuminating the empty living area. You take out what you need to make a sandwich, a late snack that will hopefully cure the hunger preventing you from sleeping.

As you make the sandwich, you find yourself humming In My Life, the song somewhat of an earworm to you in the past few days. You mumble the melody peacefully, enjoying the quiet moment in this newfound life of yours that never seems to rest. A noise from the sleeping area startles you, and you turn your head to see a squinting Matty walking towards you.

"Shit, I'm sorry if I woke you," you tell him sheepishly, setting the knife down with a small clatter.

"Nah, don't worry. I haven't been able to sleep all night." He yawns and goes to lie on the couch, phone illuminating his face. You turn your back to him to continue making the sandwich, resuming humming quietly to yourself. You return the ingredients to the fridge, almost forgetting he is sat behind you as you work your way through the song.

Suddenly, Matty begins to impersonate the sped-up piano in a high-pitched voice. The shock of it all and the silly voice he is putting on causes you to laugh, pausing slicing the sandwich. You turn your head to look at him behind you, and he's chuckling to himself while scrolling. You shake your head with far too fond exasperation and return to assembling the sandwich.

Portland

It's about to be Robbers, so that means you're knelt in front of Matty as he stands on the side table, leant down towards you.

His eyes catch something on your forehead and he drags his thumb across it, slightly scraping. There’s blood on his finger now, some your makeup artist must have missed in the hasty clean up you endure each night after Inside Your Mind.

He raises his thumb and takes it in his mouth, a cocky grin on his face as he sucks it clean. You’re stomach churns as you watch him, entranced. Does he know exactly how much power he has over you? The reaction each of these intrepid moves causes within you?

Your choreography is about to start, usually punctuated with Matty taking a drag from the cigarette before placing it in your mouth to stub out afterwards. He takes a drag slowly and begins to leans in towards you, startling you slightly out of the rhythm you usually fall into. The brazen grin on his face tells you what he wants. You were surprised it took him this long after finding out you actually smoke, really. You meet him half-way, and inhale as he breathes out the smoke into your mouth, covetous and desperate.

The audience is cheering, as they always seem to be whenever the two of you are doing something that you know will make the rounds on Twitter later. He hands you the cigarette, presumably to stub out as you do. Instead, you breathe in, reach your hand up to grab his hair, and shotgun him right back. His eyes are sparkling as the smoke tangles between the two of you, mouths grinning and lips touching.

You stub the cigarette out on the table leg, and the choreography begins.

Seattle

You’ve been writing more poems than ever, your book overflowing with ideas and lyrics. No matter what you try to write about, it always ends up being about him.

It’s even worse when he takes them and completes them. He takes your words about him and gives them far more grace, more talent than you ever could, and turns them into things of beauty. Will he ever realize all that beauty is just silhouettes of him?

He's sat across from you in the green room, plucking a melody on the guitar. You're rifling through your journal, trying to find another half-finished poem that isn't completely glaringly obvious about its subject matter.

"Here, uh, how's this one?" He looks up at you, and takes the book out of your hands.

Last night I broke from old and told a friend the truth that I've got one foot out I've called it bad and I colored it blue

But it's a beautiful life to be in your hands one step out of the light under your command

I'm in my modern world tribute living man I've got my one foot out when I do my modern dance I am in your hands I am in your hands I am in your hands

He smiles down at the page, laughing softly to himself.

"What?" you ask, slightly alarmed.

"Nothing," he says, shaking his head. "This is fuckin' amazing. And I've already got a few ideas and stuff that might work saved, come here."

He pulls out his phone and opens voice memos, playing one called lead vocal idea 3.

"Gonna have to change this for the syllables and phrases, obviously. But how does something like this sound for the first bit?"

It's a simple, repetitive melody. When you imagine it lined up to each of the lines, it's perfect. You tell him so, and his face lights up. "Let's try and figure it out then, yeah?"

Fort Lauderdale

You never talk about what you do during the shows.

No one in the band had questioned why Matty always buys your drinks, but you’ve caught Polly giving you an odd look once or twice. You don't pay it too much mind.

Matty gets bolder, and you get just as bold in return.

He moans into your mouth when he kisses you. You run your hands up his sides when he leaves his shirt untucked, which he has done every single show since you first did it. He lets your head loll limply before pulling your hair harder, puppeteering you how he wants to. Like you're a doll for him to play with.

You scatter kisses along his jawline after All I Need to Hear. His stubble itches against your skin. When you're feeling particularly bold, you nip gently at his skin, eagerly welcoming his groans. When he kisses your hand, he places kisses on each of the knuckles before placing it on his cheek for you to hold. You touch your finger to his nose as he does this, and it makes him smile, brown eyes crinkling. He drags his thumb across your lips when you're knelt in front of him, and a cheshire cat smile dawns his face when you swipe your tongue across it.

After the show, you'll talk about the crowd, about something funny that George said in the in-ears that made you almost break. But you never talk about the rest. It goes unsaid, unacknowledged. The blatantly obvious escalating passion that you pray is reciprocated due to a feeling similar to yours.

You fear the bubble you've built for yourselves will break if you prod it. So you don't say a word, and you take what he gives you.

Denver "Do you wanna know the original reason I came up with the show?"

You're lying on Matty's hotel room bed with your feet to the pillows, head dangling off the edge. He's lying on the floor beneath you, out of your sight. You see his hand reach up to pass you the joint, and you accept it gratefully, movements languid.

"Hmm?" you ask, not hearing him completely.

"The uh, the original reason. Of the show, why I made the show."

"What, you wanted to make a meta reinvention of the stage show, filled with meta ideas and subvert the audiences ideas of meta-" you say in a voice, mocking his northern accent.

"Ha, ha. Very funny. Matty loves saying meta, real creative." He hiccups before continuing.

"It was because, uh, George and I, uh..." he starts laughing, unable to finish the sentence.

You turn to face him, stealing the spliff out of his hands to take another hit. "You and George..." you gesture for him to finish with it in your hands.

He's laughing through the sentence, rubbing his forehead. "Venues only let you smoke if its part of a theatrical performance."

"Huh?" Your hazy mind doesn't put it together.

"They wouldn't let us smoke on stage unless it was a part of a theatrical performance. So voila, theatrical performance." He grins, proud, as he points at the two of you.

"You knob! You wrote this entire show solely because you couldn't go two hours without a smoke?" You reach with your free hand, hitting him as your roll over to face him on the floor.

"Well not solely that, Jesus! That was just what inspired me to write a show. And I think that worked out pretty well, did it not?" He's cheeky, smiling proud as he takes another hit.

"You're ridiculous," you sigh as you move your head up and nestle into the bed, ready to fall asleep as your intoxicated mind clouds your best judgement.

"I do try."

The smoke alarm starts buzzing. "Oh, shit!"

You can't help but laugh at him as he tries to fan smoke away from the small detector, beeping incessantly. "Fuck!" he yells, but you just laugh louder into the bed.

Independence

"So you'll be on the settee now, not the lounger. And Robbers is in At Their Very Best, not Being Funny. And when All I Need to Hear finishes, you'll freeze there instead."

"Every iteration of this show is just a test of my ability to stay still while you prance around the stage, then?"

"Prance?!"

You should have known based on everything about Matty that he wouldn't be satisfied keeping the show the same for long. He briefed you earlier in the day about the changes he wanted to try, and you did a quick run through with the crew to ensure they were prepared. Matty told you he was writing a follow-up show to the current one, and wanted to try incorporating some of the ideas into the current set-up.

You're sat comfortably on the settee, knees pulled up and feet tucked up to the side. You're still with a demure smile cast on your face, finishing your act in this position rather than looking up at him knelt in front of the table. There is a new classical piece playing over the sound system, one you don't recognize.

He goes through the panicked motions he usually does, attempting to wake you by shaking your shoulders and lightly hitting your cheek repeatedly. It's harder to stay still when directly focusing the audience as you are now, their motions and screams adding an extra challenge to keeping your gaze fixed at an invisible point.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Matty near the mic stand lighting a cigarette. He begins to anxiously stumble across the stage, frequently turning to you. He's concerningly good at acting drunk, and you're reminded of the post wondering if he truly is that drunk. He takes a sip out of a bottle that is placed on the piano, and walks to sit on the couch beside you.

He takes a few drags, and begins to cry with his head in his hands. You can't help but think of the fact that there are definitely several confused parents in the audience as a result of this scene: classical music overturing Matty as he sobs into his hand and chainsmokes while a woman they have never seen before sits frozen smiling beside him. At least after the first show, the parents might have been briefed on the oddities of this performance the two of you put on. Matty changing elements removes all that. The thought of these traumatized and perplexed parents so nearly makes you laugh that you have to take a deep breath to prevent it from escaping, forcing the smile down your throat.

Matty keeps turning his head to look at you, crying even further. He then proceeds to sit on the ground in front of you and embrace your legs, weeping into the hug. You can feel his warm breath against your shins, shaking with put-on sobs. He stays this way for a moment before calming his cries and looking up at you, taking a drag of the cigarette in the process. He then sits back up on the settee beside you, watching you all the while. He reaches out and plays with your hair, twirling locks and running his fingers through it. It's more comforting than the pulls earlier in the show, the ones that send warmth through your body and shivers down your spine. His hand travels to your neck and begins to prod it rather aggressively with his fingers, making weird movements as they travel up to your chin.

He rubs his face one final time, and abandons you on the couch to sit in front of the television stack. Only a few more minutes of being still. You're able to blink, but your eyes hurt from the focus. In the corner of your eye, you see Matty begin to do twenty press-ups, all-the-while watching the news footage interspersed with videos of the two of you from previous shows. He finally crawls into the television, and the lights go out. You exit quickly as regularly, steps echoing in the momentary silence.

Chicago

"I feel like Ferris Bueller."

You turn your head to see Matty beside you. He's staring at the painting, the museum map folded in his hands.

"It's Cameron in front of this one, actually," you remark, cheeky.

"Oh, piss off." You chuckle.

You're stood in front of A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte, as you have been for nearly ten minutes. You've analyzed every speck of the painting, but you can't bring yourself to leave it just yet.

"You know, Nighthawks is just around the corner," his head turns in the direction as he speaks, "if you want to go see it."

"I'm alright here, but thank you," you smile warmly at him before continuing. "I saw Sunday in the Park with George on the West End as kid, and I've been wanting to this ever since. It feels so much larger in person, even having seen it in Ferris Bueller and all."

"Art always manages to surprise you."

"That's very wise."

"Indeed." You can hear the smile in his voice.

"I usually squeeze a few group museums trips on each tour, actually," he continues. "Nice peaceful day off with everyone."

"This one been good so far?" you ask him.

"Oh, the best." You hold his gaze for a moment before returning to the painting, the butterflies he always conjures in your stomach unable to bear it any longer. You stand in silence with him, staring at the painting. You sneak glances at him when he's not looking as if he’s another one of the works of art strung along the galleries walls.

Milwaukee

You walk towards the green room, ready to tell Matty and George they are needed on stage before the sounds of an argument stops you in your tracks.

"I just don't want anyone to get hurt, mate!"

"No one will be, I swear. I know what I'm doing, I promise."

"Well, good, then. You need to be careful about not hurting her-"

"George. It'll be alright. Okay? I'll figure it out."

There's a slight lull, and you take the time to knock and push the door open. Their heads turn to you, Matty's eyes wide before washing over with a still expression

"Hey, uh, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt anything, we're needed on stage."

"Not interrupting anything, love. C'mon." He walks assuredly past you into the hallway and towards the stage. George flashes you a soft smile, but you can see there's something behind it.

You look at them nervously as they walk ahead of you, mind racing as you try to put an explanation to the conversation you walked into that clearly they did not want you to hear. You forget about it by the time the show is over, the moment washing away with the day.

Toronto

"I won't lie, I'm not a huge fan of this."

You're standing on the glass floor of the CN Tower. You haven't been up here since you visited your uni friend over the holidays a few years back, and when you realize the whole band had never visited you promptly commandeered the day off planning.

You remove your eyes from gazing at the aquarium below to see Matty, standing at the edge of the glass. His toes barely touch it, refusing to step onto the clear portion of ground you are traversing.

"Somebody's scared," you childishly tease him, overjoyed at this exposed weakness.

"I'm not scared, I just don't particularly enjoy being reminded that if there are any structural disintegrities in this massive pole that this is my route out."

"Nah, he's bloody terrified of heights," Ross tosses from nearby, staring out at Lake Ontario.

"It seems I have lost all of my kind, loving, friends, whatever has happened to them?" Matty asks theatrically, turning around as if to search. He's caught up enough by what he's saying that he doesn't see George approach from the side, who quickly grabs him and pulls him onto the glass floor.

"You fuckwit! What is your problem!" Matty yells to George as he hastily runs back to the covered floor. You and George are practically dying of laughter, and it's only egged on by Matty's unimpressed expression.

Minneapolis

The text notification from Matty drops down from the top of your screen, pulling you away from mindlessly scrolling on Instagram. You roll over to your side in your bunk and open the message.

Last night I finally slept Next to somebody true She's worthy of your faith I felt you in her hands I saw you when she moved

God, it's a beautiful life To live for somebody gone One step out of the fight One dream into the storm

Your eyes scan over the words, and you type out a quick ? in response. He messages back instantaneously, rapid-fire.

A second verse

For I am in your hands.

And then I think it could lead back into the chorus

What do you think

You pull the curtain back from your bunk to find his curtain already open, staring at you. You go back to typing, looking up at him when you finish.

It's perfect

I love how you modified some of the lines slightly in the second part

You look back up and he's got a grin on his face, clearly pleased with your approval. You look back down to type some more, thumbs flying across the screen.

I was also thinking maybe after each line in the chrous it's followed by a bv of I am in your hands

But I'm in my modern world (I am in your hands)

And so on

You look back up at him and he's nodding his head to an inaudible tune, clearly singing out your suggestions in his head. He returns to the screen to write you another message.

I love that

You're a proper songwriter now love

You look back up at him with a small smile, lips pursed. You hope the light of your phone doesn't illuminate the blush on your cheeks, always appearing so easily when it comes to him.

Newport

The rush of cold air stings your skin. You need to get away from the dance floor, the far-too-bright flashes of the club lights, the music pounding so loud it hurts to hear. Everything is too much.

You're losing control of your breathing, gasping for air. The back door finally slams closed, the sound scaring you. You lean against the brick wall and it itches against your skin.

Your legs can't hold you up anymore, and you slid down to the asphalt, burning your exposed shoulders along the way. Tears spring from your eyes, and you loose further control of your breathing.

The alcohol is making you feel completely out of control of the situation, floating above your body as the streetlights smear together into a blur. You're losing grip on what's happening, and it only furthers the panic attack you've finally recognized is happening..

You throw your head against your knees that are tucked up to your face, crying and trying to breathe. You were worried this would happen eventually at one of these nights out. You're no stranger to having to tuck yourself into a corner while you name five things you can see, four things you can touch. The alcohol always makes them worse.

You only feel more overwhelmed and scared as your intoxicated mind continues to spin, unable to function the way you need it to in order to calm down. Your breaths are ragged, heaving sobs echoing through the back area outside of the club that you've found yourself in.

The pounding slam of the door swinging open hardly registers in your mind, and you only realize someone else is out there with you when you feel a warm hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, hey, come here, look at me." It's Matty.

You slowly look up, raising your head a herculean feat. He's crouched in front of you, eyes alight with concern. His mouth is parted, and both his hands are now gripped on your shoulders. Your breaths begin to increase rapidly, so far out of your control.

"Matty, I-I-I can't, I-" you're gasping for air, unable to get any sentence out. You're so overwhelmed you can't help but cry more, heaving and shaking. Worry stains across his face.

"Shh, shh, don't worry about talking, just sit with me. Here." he maneuvers to be sat beside you, and pulls your head against his shoulder. He takes your hand from the pavement and weaves his hand into it. You immediately begin to squeeze his hand, and he hums in encouragement.

You don't know how long you sit there, squeezing his hand and matching his breaths until yours calm, your grip on the world returns. The booming of the club music is audible against your back, but all you can hear is Matty's breaths, deep and steady.

Pittsburgh

You're knelt on the ground, sat back and knees digging against the carpet. He's above you, painstakingly recreating the Robbers video as you do each night. Matty doesn't stray from the script in this song, so you're careful to follow his lead.

He sticks his hands out sideways in the air, and leans down as scripted to kiss you. But this time, he weaves his hand into your hair just as he does earlier in the show. His deviation spurs you on, and you reach up to place one hand against his cheek.

He smashes his lips against yours, violent and wanting. The passion is practically tangible, dancing through your body, sparkling from your fingertips until the carpet lights aflame. It's never like this in this song. It's never like this with anyone else.

His hand is still in your hair, a feeling nowhere near foreign this far into the tour. When he begins to tug, you're not exactly unused to the sensation. But he's never done it now. Not in the song he's so stringent with, timing each action to the video by the syllable. The surprise mixing with the pleasure racing through you concentrates itself into a moan, gasping into his mouth uncontrollably.

You can't help yourself. You've never been more glad to not be mic'd up, the sound a secret between only you and him. You've never done that, lost control to the extent you are now. He pulls back from the kiss, slightly late for his cue. His mouth is slightly open, eyes predatorily down on you. His lips curl into an open-mouthed smile, tongue pressed against his teeth.

He sings the rest of the verse with the hand still in your hair, unscripted and unfathomable. It occasionally pulls, moving your head slightly. He's never been this brazen. Maybe the audience, unfamiliar with the show, is wondering why the choreography looks the same as one of the last songs. You can't begin to care about their possible confusion. All you want is him, breaking the last piece of the show that remained untouched by the desire coursing through the two of you. You have to assume it's in him as well as yourself. Any other explanation would break you. So you connect the dots, create the picture in your mind, matching the enormity of his desire to yours. You pray you aren't imagining any of it, creating a full painting out of just a few pigments of colour. All you can do is paint and paint, a blood-stained, half-finished image of passion.

—

a/n: new song is i am in your hands by bleachers! let me know what yall thinkkkkk

#matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy fanfic #the 1975 #matty healy writing #the 1975 fanfic #matty healy fic #pitn

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abiiors · 4 months

Text

promises to keep // matty healy x reader

valentine's week - day 4: promises to keep

a/n: four times he keeps his promises and the one time he doesn't. that's it, that's the fic. cw: a whole lot of teenage yearning, mentions of high school bullying. worm??? wc: 4.8k

matty’s ten when she first barrels into his life like a little storm cloud.

they’re both at his mum’s overly fancy christmas party—matty’s fuming the whole time, wrinkling his nose in disgust at everything because he’s ten and quite frankly a little shit. his mum wants him inside, being a good boy for the guests.

his gran wants him to serenade them with old frank sinatra songs.

and matty just wants to go outside and play in the snow. it’s a rare white christmas—the snow doesn’t usually stick until late january but this year it’s thick and powdery and so fluffy white that he constantly keeps running to the windows to press his little face against them.

the party’s boring! everywhere he looks there are grown ups laughing at grown up jokes that he has no interest in, so matty takes his chance and sneaks away again, running to his preferred window. when he turns the corner, someone’s already there, pressing their face against the window just like he had.

matty realises it’s a girl. she looks about his age, maybe a bit younger, but he’s never seen her before. on the one hand, she’s the first (and perhaps the only) person at the party who’s his age. on the other hand, she’s a girl.

when his footsteps falter, she turns to look at him.

“who are you?” she asks, nose turned up like she owns the place. matty’s eyes narrow.

“who are you?” and then his eyes move to the palm of her hand that’s cupping something, something that looks suspiciously like a— “is that a snake?”

he screeches and she scrambles to shush him.

“he’s not a snake! he’s a worm,” she snaps back quickly. “and can you not be so loud? i don’t need my mum to know.”

“why not?”

“oh,” her cheeks redden and she shields the worm away with her other hand, almost protective. matty wants to smile. “well, my mum says bug can’t come with us to parties.”

“bug? i thought you said he was a worm.”

she rolls her eyes like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. then she presents the wriggly thing in front of him, beaming and proud. “his name is bug, silly!”

“bug the worm?” matty drawls. he can’t tell if he’s impressed or not but the worm certainly looks interesting.

“yeah!” she grins. matty notices her front two teeth are missing. “anyway mum says bug can’t come with us to parties but i didn’t wanna leave him alone at christmas. that’s just mean.”

matty nods. the logic checks out. before he can say anything though she sighs like all the burden of the world is on her shoulders. “i wish we could go outside though. i really wanna play in the snow.”

matty contemplates an idea—he wants to go out in the snow, and so does she. and now that there’s someone else to keep him company, someone who could maybe even be a partner-in-crime, his whole face lights up.

“let’s go then!”

“but—”

“can you sneak out or not?”

she looks absolutely scandalised at the suggestion. the worm raises its head and matty wonders what it’s thinking, if it wants to go outside too.

“come on!” he whines, “i’m sure bug will love the snow too.”

he can almost see the gears in her head turning then. she looks around them, neck craning to see if there are any adults in sight, ready to catch them and tattle on them.

“i promise you won’t get in trouble,” he declares and extends his pinkie at her. he tries to look as serious and solemn as possible. she eyes him skeptically for a moment, narrowing her eyes and staring him down. then a mischievous glint enters her eyes, and with a determined nod, she hooks her pinkie around his.

they quietly slip away to the back door. matty leads the way, occasionally checking over his shoulder for any adults. behind him she grins with palpable excitement. the door opens with a little creek and cool air blows in.

they both shiver and then burst into a fit of giggles.

they scamper into the snowy yard, trying not to laugh so loud and alert their parents but matty can’t help but gloat about having successfully snuck out. his excitement is infectious though because she joins him too, making snow angels and throwing snowballs at the back of his head.

she even sets bug down, and matty watches fascinated by the way the worm wriggles through the cold fluff.

all in all they get five minutes of absolute bliss before he hears his mum’s voice, calling out for him. matty pales.

“my mum!” he winces and instinctively steps in front of her. “go, go, go!” he almost snaps at her.

“go where?”

“i don’t know, hide or something!” his voice thins and matty almost pushes her behind a big tree in the yard. “i promised i won’t let you get into trouble, didn’t i!”

she’s about to say something but he shushes her again, pulling her to the tree so she’s hidden behind it.

“i’ll keep the back door open for you,” he whispers and then makes a run for it.

by the time his mum catches him, looking sheepish and suspiciously damp, matty’s already inside. the door’s almost closed behind him and he wilts unders his mum’s disapproving gaze.

“matthew…” she sighs. “what did we talk about?”

“i know, i know…” he drags his feet and follows her inside with a grumpy pout on his face. minutes later the girl sneaks back inside, absolutely undetected.

bug the worm scurries away into the night, makes a run for freedom, but like the snow, their friendship sticks. and so does the name “bug”.

matty's thirteen when he finds her sniffling in the abandoned girl’s bathroom on the third floor. he’s technically not allowed there but that’s never stopped him before. besides, he knows that’s where she would be if he can’t find her anywhere else.

“bug?” he calls out tentatively and waits for a response. she sniffles quietly and matty frowns. “you okay in there? can i come in?”

a beat goes by and then she responds with a wobbly “sure.”

when he finally finds her huddled in a cubicle, face red and splotchy, his frown deepens.

“what’s wrong.”

she turns her face away and loudly blows her nose into some toilet paper. “you won’t get it.”

matty makes a face at her. “is it about a boy?”

she whips her head at him and gives him an absolutely withering glare. matty tries not to squirm under it but she looks just about done with him and so he sighs and raises his hands in surrender. “i’m sorry, alright? will you please tell me what’s wrong?”

the apology softens her a little but she still looks as devastated as ever. her knees are bunched up to her chest, and she puts her head on them, mumbling something indecipherable.

“what was that?” he asks and strains his ears more.

“i got my period!” she snaps and matty’s mouth morphs into an ‘o’. as a teenager, the whole period topic is currently his least favourite. he remembers learning about it in biology, he remembers the mortification and the juvenile giggling and matty shudders. well, almost shudders because another withering glare shuts him right up. like she’s daring him to make another stupid comment.

“oh.”

“yeah,” she sniffles and blows her nose once again. matty looks at her properly then, at her teary eyes and wobbling chin and all his disgust from a moment before fades into concern.

“are you…okay?” he asks softly, “do you need something?”

reluctantly, she nods and takes a deep breath before launching into the story.

“i though my stomach hurt because i ate something weird, you know? i didn’t-i didn’t know… i’ve never… it’s my first time,” she scrunches her eyes shut and matty pats her knee, kind of at a loss for words. “well i didn’t realise i’d stained my trousers until… until suzy chapman from year 8 pointed it out. she was so loud about it too.” her lips quiver again and she dissolves into a fresh round of tears.

matty sighs. “have you been to the nurse yet? for…i don’t know, whatever you need.”

she shakes her head. “i don’t wanna go out like this, everyone’s going to laugh at me.”

matty’s chest aches at how small her voice sounds. with a fresh round of concern he realises she must be in more pain. he doesn’t know much about periods really, but he knows how his mum can’t really do much for the first day or so every month. so matty shuffles next to her, their knees touching and thighs pressed together.

“how about i come with you?”

she shoots the idea down instantly. “i’m not leaving till school’s done for the day and everyone’s gone home.”

“bug, that’s four hours away!” his voice rises, tinged with incredulity but she just shakes her head and mumbles a “that’s fine.”

“no it’s not,” he declares. he’s never felt so much indignation in the thirteen years he’s been alive but matty is absolutely determined to make this right. “i promise you no one will make fun of you. they will have to deal with me first.”

she gives him a watery chuckle, more tears leaking that she wipes away quickly. “you’re a twig, matty. you can hardly fight.”

matty feels a warmth in his chest when he finally sees her crack a smile. “i’ll cover you,” he says, “come on, bug. it’s not that far away.”

she uhms and aahs a bit more, trying to make excuses but in the end matty manages to convince her. then he stands, brushes his trousers and extends his hand to her. it takes her another thirty seconds to swallow nervously, but in the end she takes his hand and pulls herself up.

she’s a bit taller than him, much to his annoyance, but for once matty keeps his mouth shut and motions for her to go ahead, protectively hovering behind her, blocking the stain with his body. he fiercely glares at anyone who so much as looks at her for more than a second. many of the boys in their year whoop at him, some girls roll their eyes but matty pays attention to none of it.

he sticks to following her around until they reach the nurse’s office. he’s actually quite proud of himself if he’s being honest.

she hesitates at the door, and matty squeezes her hand reassuringly. “go,” he says. “i’ll be right outside.”

the smile she gives him then is one he’s never seen before—it’s warm and adoring. she looks at him like he really matters. she looks at him like he’s something special. irreplaceable.

matty shakes his head, ignoring the silly thoughts, and stays put outside. just like he’s promised.

matty’s sixteen when the list first comes out. it’s a vile little thing—something none of his friends interact with, but the entitled, rich twats pass it around like it’s a designer strain of weed. by now the paper’s quite crumpled, unfolded and refolded several times by grubby hands eager to soak up the gossip and find new targets to bully.

the list makes its rounds and matty ignores it pointedly each time.

but his heart sinks when he overhears her name, followed by snickers. his breath catches in his throat when the boys pat each other on the back and shake each other’s hands, cementing some kind of a bet or a deal.

discomfort coils in his stomach and he pulls out his phone under the desk, shooting her a quick text.

haven’t seen you today

where are you

he waits for her to respond or even just to read it but she does none of those things. matty shakes his leg restlesly, waiting for the lesson to be over so he can go find her and make sure she’s alright. he’s been on edge since he heard her name being whispered and now he can’t shake the bad feeling that grips.

“oi!” someone behind him whispers, snapping him out of his thoughts. fingers tap on his shoulders and then he hears a rustle of paper. before he realises it, someone’s slides a piece of paper in his hands.

it’s even more torn than it was the last time matty saw it—matty almost doesn’t open it, but something catches his eye. his stomach roils, the lesson drags on as usual, and with shaky fingers matty unfolds the list.

his eyes skim it quickly—hottest arse, hottest tits, easiest fuck—all of it raises his disgust more and more, he’s about to crumple it into a ball and dump it in the bin when the last catagory catches his eye.

most fuckable virgin. and right in front of it, scrawled in the ugliest handwriting he’s ever seen is her name.

for a moment, everything falls silent. all he can hear is the sound of blood rushing in his ears, all he can focus on is the way his chest tightens and his vision tinges red.

then he crumples the list in a ball and shoves everything in his bag. he can hear the teacher falter mid-sentence but matty cannot care less right now. instead he slings his bag on his shoulder and storms out the class, ignoring all the shouts and warnings from the teacher. he knows his mum will get a call but that’s the last thing on his mind right now.

he pulls his phone out again once he’s far away enough.

bug?

you saw it didn’t you

again, there’s no response. he can’t even go to the third floor bathroom anymore. it’s been long fixed up and put back in use. so matty does the only thing he can think of. he waits until the bell rings, then he pulls george from chemistry, and adam and ross from history. he knows they will have his back no matter what, especially if he’s going to go pick a fight with the entitled, rich fucks.

i promise i’m going to take care of it

he sends one last text and turns his phone off. then he makes his way to the car park and waits for the bullies to come out.

the next time matty sees her, she’s absolutely seething with rage. seriously, trembling with rage doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“you could have been expelled!” she yells, pacing in his room, burning a path in his rug.

“i know.”

“do you? does george? adam and ross? i cannot believe you got them involved in this matty, seriously?”

“i knowww,” he says again, a bit louder this time but absolutely wilts when she glares his way.

“and you got yourself hurt!”

“mmm.”

“well?” she stops in front of him, hands on her hips, frown on her face and matty has no choice but to look up at her. he hates that her eyes are tinged pink, hates that they look puffy and that there are tear stains on her cheeks.

he hates knowing that the stupid piece of paper made her cry.

her eyes well up again and her lower lip wobbles. “your hands are bleeding,” she says softly and then marches to his bathroom to get the first aid kit out.

matty follows her like a lost puppy, mostly because he just wants to be sure she’s okay. but a tiny part of him worries that he’s crossed a line this time. that maybe he should have talked to her first before jumping harry and his gang of bullies in the car park.

if he’s being technical—they did win the fight. barely. and now he has a black eye, countless scratches and cuts, bleeding knuckles and a nasty, colourful bruise blooming on his ribs. it hurts every time he breathes but matty doesn’t pay it much mind.

“sit,” she points at the closed toilet seat and he obeys instantly.

he watches her put the kit down on the sink, wordlessly she grabs antiseptic, ointment, bandages and wipes and sets them out next to each other. she doesn't say anything for a moment, her focus solely on treating his injuries. matty can feel the thick, cloying tension in the room though and he’s too afraid to even clear his throat.

“i just wanted to make it right…” he whispers.

she shoots him a look that could cut glass, but she doesn't interrupt his feeble attempt at explanation.

“seriously, love. i didn’t think… i’m sorry.” her hand stills halfway through cleaning his knuckle and matty’s cheeks warm. love. that’s not something he’s called her before, definitely not when she’s standing right between his legs, holding his hand.

“‘s fine,” she whispers quickly and gets started on the next cut. “i just…worry about you.”

he pointedly ignores the way his chest feels then, the way his skin tingles. instead, he manages a small smile.

“so we’re good?”

“you’re an idiot,” she shakes her head and smiles. it’s barely there, just a twitch of her lips but matty feels his whole body light up in response. “yeah, matty. we’re good.”

“good,” he gives her a cheeky grin. “because you’re a bit of a shit nurse. bad bedside manners,” he teases and yelps when she pinches his arm.

matty’s eighteen when his music first feels like a real, serious thing. serious enough to drop out of a levels and take up music as a full time thing. serious enough that he’s been travelling around more and more—hanging around solely with george, ross, and adam. it’s been weeks since he’s properly seen her.

weeks since they’ve talked on the phone.

of course, matty knows she’ll be busy studying for exams. she’s so much smarter than he is, has so much potential in her. but he misses her, misses having her around him and scolding him lightly every time he does something impulsive.

mostly, he just misses hanging out with her.

you free? he texts, not really expecting a reply but seconds later three dots dance on the screen.

hi matty!

i will be in a bit. i’m out with mum rn. dress shopping for my birthday

inwardly, he winces. of course, her birthday’s coming up. not that he’d forgotten about about it but the days have started blurring together recently and he could have sworn it was still about a month until her birthday. not… he checks the date and curses. he certainly didn’t think it would be a week away.

the dots come back, dancing and dancing and dancing before they disappear. matty tries to think of something to say.

so when’s the big party? he types and then instantly deletes it. it’s lame, she’s never been one to have a giant birthday party. mostly she just wants to have a nice hangout with her friends and maybe go out to dinner. but she’s turning eighteen in a week and he wonders if this is the year she finally does it—throws a giant rager that is.

so…

her text comes through a minute later he gets so excited he almost drops his phone. cursing at himself, matty straightens and waits for the second text to come through.

we’re going out to dinner on saturday. nothing super fancy, just friends. i thought it’d be nice if you could come

you don’t have to of course

ik how busy you are

it’s fine if you can’t

forget i asked

the last four texts come in rapid fire succession and his frown deepens with each one of them. is that what she thinks of him now? that he won’t even have time for her on such an important day.

bug, he interrupts her text spree and smiles when the dots die down once again. i’ll be there. i promise

for the longest time, nothing happens—no dots, no texts. then almost like it took a lot of debating to send it, she sends two more texts.

can’t wait to see you :)

his face splits into a grin as he reads them. and then he stares at the heart for far longer than he cares to admit.

she squeals when she sees him that saturday, jumping up from her seat and engulfing him in a bear hug the moment he opens his arms. matty laughs and her scent fills his chest. they stay like that for a long time—until her friend’s are looking at them with varying degrees of interest, until he can gather his thoughts. until a server finally clears his throat and points out that they’re quite literally in the middle of the restaurant.

she blushes and takes his hand, pulling him to their table, and matty settles next to her, mostly just happy to see her beaming and excited.

“happy birthday, love,” he whispers the first chance he gets and her eyes widen slightly. she mumbles a quick thank you and then spears her pasta, avoiding his eyes.

throughout dinner, he can't help but steal glances at her. he watches the way her eyes light up when she talks about her plans for the future, about the university courses she's considering. he laughs along with her friends too, and before they know it, they’re scarfing down desserts before her friends hand her birthday gifts one by one.

matty waits patiently and saves his for last. instead he watches her open them with a look of pure adoration.

at last, he slides the neately wrapped gift in her direction and watches her look at it curiously.

“go on, then,” he smiles, “open it.”

he laughs when she tries to open it as neately as possible, trying not to rip the paper in the slightest just like she has for all the previous birthdays he’s celebrated with her.

the paper falls away and eyes widen about as much as the empty dessert plates in front of them.

“matty!” she gapes, “this is–this–”

“yeah?” he giggles at her reaction and her friends look on in interest.

“a camera! you got me a camera, holy shit!”

“i know,” he grins, immensely enjoying how tongue tied she is.

matty leans back in his chair, looking pleased with himself. “do you like it?”

her eyes shimmer with gratitude, and for a moment matty’s sure she’s gonna cry. then she launches herself at him again, this time wrapping him in a tight hug that lasts longer than before. and matty simply melts into her arms, buries her face into the crook of her neck and smiles at the warmth that spreads through his chest.

“i love it,” she whispers, “thank you, matty. i mean it. i love it so so much!”

they don’t pull away until one of her friends clears their throat and even then it’s almost impossible for him to let her go. but matty settles back and watches her pull it out. he laughs when she immediately points it at him and the shutter snaps.

“you’re cute,” she smiles and he wonders if it’s just a trick of the light or if her cheeks really do turn pink then.

matty’s twenty-one the night he offers her a job. well, it’s more of a summer gig and it’s more because he misses her so much that he can’t get anything right.

she’s busy with uni and he’s busy with music. but tonight’s a rare night, and they’re both a bit more than tipsy at some house party. that’s another surprise for him—the fact that she parties now. but he likes this side of her. she’s definitely gotten out of her shell more. become more confident in general and lately, every time he’s spoken to her, he’s felt this funny feeling in his chest for hours after.

“as the band’s official photographer?” she slurs and then giggles. “this is a world tour, is it?”

“shut up,” he flicks her nose and she scrunches it up adorably. “it’s eight cities in the uk. mostly as openers for other bands. come onnnnnn,” he whines and pouts hoping it would persuade her.

she presses her finger to her chin and makes a show of thinking hard. matty giggles and smoothes the crease between her brow but she swats him away.

“on one condition,” she giggles behind her hands. “since we will be around each other constantly for three weeks, sharing hotel rooms—” matty wags his eyebrows, “—and just be joined at the hip in general… you need to promise me something.”

“alright,” he leans forward, chin on his palm, looking at her with interest. the alcohol makes his head spin, her smile wipes it clean of any thoughts.

“promise me we won’t fall in love like a cheesy rom-com,” she presses her lips together and matty wrinkles his nose.

“if i was going to fall in love with you bug, it would have happened already.”

“uh-huh,” she arches an eyebrow and matty shakes his head.

“fine. no cliche rom-com stuff. no falling in love. now say yes… please?”

“fineee,” she makes a show of rolling her eyes but smiles at him fondly. “yes. i’ll be your photographer.”

the first night they share a hotel room, matty feels a pangs in his chest and his brain reminds him of the promise over and over again—no silly little rom-com cliche. they’re better than that. he knows it. but the next morning she wakes up in his arms, limbs tangled together, her hair tickling his face and he can’t help the way his heart skips a beat. she smiles at him sweetly, all sleepy and warm and so precious she might as well be made of glass, and matty’s chest aches like it has never before.

blink and two weeks melts away. he realises he’s been rather looking forward to coming “home” to her—to their shared hotel room that is. to warmth and music floating through her old laptop and her laughter. his whole body buzzes with an unfamiliar feeling whenever he looks at her—and lately that’s all he seems to be doing whenever she’s editing the day’s photos on her laptop, tongue poking out in concentration, eyebrows furrowed.

“c’mere”, he pleads when she briefly sets the laptop aside. she looks at him curiously, at the way he just sits on the bed, waiting for her but in the end she gets up and walks up to him to stand between his legs—something she’s done a million times before. yet this time his hands tremble by his sides and he has to resist the urge to place them on her waist.

“you’re pretty,” he says as a matter of fact. it is a fact after all and it earns him a gorgeous grin.

“yeah?”

“mm,” he hums and closes his eyes. to matty’s surprise, he feels fingers in his hair, combing through his curls, tugging gently at the ends. “and lately it’s been getting really difficult to not kiss you every time i look at you.”

it’s so bold that her fingers stop moving altogether and for a moment matty think’s he’s fucked up irrevocably, that there’s no going back now. but she’s so close, so enticing. and the next thing he knows, she lowering herself onto his lap, her face inches away from his.

she smiles at him, and softly caresses his cheek. once or twice her eyes even dip to his lips but he doesn’t dare breathe, or move really. he’s far too scared that even a little movement will shatter the magic holding them together.

“why haven’t you kissed me then?” she asks and that’s what breaks his restraint.

her lips are soft on his, so fucking perfect. electricity zings through him at the contact. she kisses him with such reckless abandon that it steals his breath away, makes his heart hammer against his ribcage. and then her fingers tangle themselves into his hair and if matty were to die of shock right now, he couldn’t think of a better way to go.

i love you he thinks to himself—something that just occurs to him then, hits him like a fucking train but he doesn’t pull back. if anything he kisses her harder and smiles when she gasps into his mouth.

i love you he thinks again, over and over and over until the thought spreads throughout his whole body. until he can’t help but giggle a little.

he’s utterly failed his promise, completely decimated it. but out of all the promises he’s kept, this is the one he doesn’t mind breaking.

lemme know what you think <33

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trumanbluee · 4 months

Text

an encounter - matty healy

minors dni !! this is 17+ nsfw material !!!

content; you meet a stranger in the bar after your breakup ;)

word count: 3271

warnings: somewhat dubious consent (reader is intoxicated), unsafe sex (wrap it b4 you tap it!!) dom/sub undertones, degradation, teasing. lmk if i missed anything! <3

a/n: hi !!! this is the first fic i'm ever posting!! eek! i dont know how many people are going to see this but please tell me if you like it!!!

It’s not often she spilt her entire life story to a stranger at the bar, but this stranger, with his head of ringlets upon ringlets of messy, dark curls, plush light-pink lips, and deep, chocolate brown eyes, was particularly inviting; charismatic to a fault. It made her want to give him everything, and absentmindedly, in her alcohol-riddled mind, she’d thought he would be a good scammer, or serial killer, whichever he prefers really.

But it's not entirely his fault; she’s stress drinking, downing too many shots in too little a time frame, and the alcohol’s already hit her system ten-fold.

She’s there because she’d broken up with her boyfriend the night before. They’d been dating just short of a year. He was required to travel a lot, mostly in Europe, as per his job, and she let him go each time without qualms - love them, let them go, right?

Wrong. He’d been cheating on her since he went to Australia — four months, now — with a pretty little Sheila that he wanted to marry.

She was furious when he told her, of course, it’s fucking insanity for him to marry someone he’s known for four months, but she began seeing all the differences between her and the woman he cheated on her with: she, a perfect homemaker, her, a distressed professional he saw maybe once a month.

“Hey, hey, don’t beat yourself up,” The soft english voice of the man across the bar cut through the buzz of her hazy, drunken brain, bringing her back to reality. “Cause he’s a right dickhead. For cheating on you like that.”

The man had entered the bar hours after she did, housing a simple drink or two and absently watching the soccer game on the TV above the bar, before she’d drunkenly inched closer to him, desperate to rant her dilemma to just about anyone who’d listen. He bit, and here she was now.

She peered up at the man, inspecting him. He’s gorgeous, definitely, but she can’t tell if she actually thinks that, or her foggy, not-been-fucked-for-months mind just wants him to rail her into next week.

No matter, she thought, downing another shot. It burned the back of her throat sweetly, fire trailing down her insides. “M’not beating myself up,” she protested weakly, “jus’ — m’just… wondering if her cunt was - so much better than mine,”

He laughed, boisterously, the kind of laugh you hear rumble out from a close friend while you detail every wrongdoing or shameful memory in your life: he’s comfortable right now, as is she.

“Well,” he inched closer, large hand setting itself on her thigh and slowly inching upwards, “if it bothers you that much, why not prove it? That your pussy’s as good as you think.”

This wasn’t the first of his attempts to flirt with her: firstly he’d tucked a stray hair away from her face, later he swiped a drop of her Sex On The Beach off her lip, then he’d clutched her by the waist, pulling her close to him when someone squeezed past her in the crowded bar. His brisk touch wasn’t unfamiliar by any means, but it did suggest more than the other ones, especially coupled with the lustful words he was purring in her ear.

Then, there’s a gap in her memory. One too many shots, a stranger toying with the hem of the skirt she’d donned for the bar, and his sweet voice in her ear was too much for her dizzy head, and the only thing she remembers is this: one moment, he’s getting braver, rough fingers ghosting the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, and the next, she’s pressed against a bathroom stall wall, the handsome stranger’s knee knocking her quivering legs apart.

They’re trading wet, sloppy kisses, and his hands are sneakily climbing up her shirt till they reach her chest. There’s a sharp intake of breath from him: “Fuck, sweetheart, no bra? You really were looking for someone to prove you right,” he cooed, touching her breasts needily.

He’s kneading her softly, fingers pawing at her flesh like he’d never felt something so soft, so plump. Her back arches as he does this; she’s practically putty in his hands.

It doesn’t slip past her that she’s being felt up in a bar bathroom by a gorgeous stranger whom she doesn’t know the name of, but she doesn't care. “Please,” she begs, his name coming up completely blank on her tongue, “please.”

“‘Please’ what, honey?” The stranger says huskily, hot breath against her ear as one of his hands moves from her breasts up to her jaw, pushing it to the side to gain access to her neck. “Please kiss me? Finger me? Fuck me?”

She’s too drunk - and fucking horny - to deal with his theatrics, so she whines instead of answering, her weak fingers carding through his dark curls.

“God,” he says, “How long has it been since you’ve been properly fucked? Just some touching and you’re already too fucking dumb to speak.”

His words make her cheeks burn with shame, but it also makes her core throb. The oh-so sweet stranger who listened to her problems all night telling her she’s just a dumb horny bitch is such a juxtaposition it's got her all hot and bothered.

“Please,” she begs again, more desperate than before, “I need you.”

The man let out an incredulous chuckle, head cocking back. “Baby, don’t tell me you like it like that. God, you’re such a fucking whore,” he said, before undoing his belt buckle and fly.

He had noticed how her legs clenched around his knee, how her breathing got sharper as soon as the words “dumb” and “whore” slipped out of his pretty mouth, how her fingers trailed his back needily, desperate for any kind of touch.

She bit her lip, watching the stranger through bleary, hooded eyes. He’d pulled his pants down just enough for his boxer shorts to be visible, before he grabbed her by the waist and turned her to press her face against the wall.

One of his arms then draped across her shoulders, pinning her down and arching her back, hard, making her ass press flush against the large tent in his underwear. She let out a small gasp at the feeling, and she could practically see the smirk curling slyly on his face

He can’t be that big, right? It was just her drunk mind, making him feel bigger than she thought through his shorts. Plus, she hadn’t been fucked in over a month — she was probably just not used to it. .

Because, that’d be totally unfair - he’s beautiful, charming, an amazing kisser, and has a huge cock? No fucking way — if he was all that, he’s definitely a secret terrorist, or something.

However, these days, she’d learned that she didn't have the best intuition. First, with her boyfriend, then again, with the man who just pulled out his thick cock, stroking it gently.

“Oh, fuck,” she cursed, head straining to look at him behind her. Unconsciously, she shyly closed her legs at the sight of him.

“Ah, ah, ah,” the man crooned, his other hand sliding between her legs and spreading them apart once more. “No take backs, honey. You did say you wanted me, did you not?”

Completely flush against each other, she could feel his hard length resting between her legs. Just that, just him between her, already had her trembling in anticipation.

“Then fuck me already,” she bit back, feigning confidence. In actuality, she was thinking: how was all that supposed to fit? And, of all people, her, who hadn’t been stretched out to fit any cock at all, not since last month, when her boyfriend made his routine visit. She was a loyal girl, alright, and her fingers never went as deep as any cock could.

But the moment for her to reveal her worries passed, and he simpered. “So fucking eager.”

Then, his large hands smoothed down the swell of her ass, following the curve, before he lifted his hand up and came down on her cheek, making a loud noise reverberate throughout the empty bathroom.

Her breath caught in her throat, a choked gasp mixed with a tense moan coming out instead, and she flushed. Thank god she was pressed against the cold bathroom stall wall, for it provided a miniscule relief to her burning face.

He’d spanked her, and she’d fucking moaned.

“So you do like it dirty.” he cooed, fingers returning and hooking into the waistband of her panties.

“I bet,” he said, dragging the thin fabric down extremely slow, “that you didn’t come to the bar tonight to just drink,” he pressed closer against her, her folds now sitting right above his thick length, “you came, with no bra and a slutty skirt on, looking to get fucked senseless, didn’t you?”

He slowly slid in and out against her folds, his cock just barely grazing her clit, and she swore she could have screamed. The way he was teasing her was absolutely delectable and, in the same vein, incredibly torturous.

“Answer me, honey.” he hummed, free hand rubbing light circles on the skin of her hip.

She let out an exasperated groan. “I - I came here tonight, to - ah!” she squeaked when the fat tip of the man’s cock poked her tight hole.

“You came here tonight to… what?” He said, nonchalant, as if he wasn’t slowly driving his large dick into her.

“I came here to…” she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ground her thoughts, and squarely not think about how mouthwateringly good the handsome strangers cock felt, “to get—“

Then, the loudest keen she’d ever heard tore out of her, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, when he suddenly shoved all of his length into her soaking cunt.

He bottomed out with a breathy laugh, watching her knees buckle and mouth hang wide open. Then, once more, his calloused hand came down on her ass, a large crack sounding out within the bathroom.

“Shut the fuck up, whore. Someone’ll hear.” The stranger said, as if he hadn’t just made a loud noise spanking her like that.

But the way he insulted, complimented, mocked and teased all in a few sentences had her shuddering; never in her life did she think such dirty words could make her so wet.

She barely kept in another whine, waves of pleasure ebbing throughout her body. The burning pain of the spank in combination to how her walls squeezed around his cock had her barely coherent, face taut with pleasure.

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping all over my cock,” he whispered, leaning down for her to hear. As he did so, however, his dick pressed further into her, and another helpless groan rolled off her tongue.

“But you’re too goddamn loud.” The stranger growled, and the arm of the hand that was pressing her against the wall shifted, now covering her mouth.

Before she could protest, he slid out, then snapped into her. Immediately, she saw stars, and a muffled mewl slipped past her lips.

“Jesus christ,” he murmured, “your little pussy’s taking me so well.” He began to slide in and out at a fast, rhythmic pace, so fast she could barely comprehend the ecstasy she was feeling.

“Oh my god,” she barely stuttered out past his large hand. He was pounding in and out of her relentlessly, selfishly, no regard for her moans or helpless whines, merely focussed on thrusting his fat cock into her sweet cunt.

Then, the two heard the bathroom door open, and she froze. The handsome stranger moved quickly, grabbing her by the waist and planting her on his lap as he sat down on the toilet. His other hand, still trained on her mouth, gripped tighter than ever when he felt the groan bubble up from her throat: this new position of her on his lap had his long length pressed right against her cervix.

“Now you really gotta be quiet, baby,” he whispered, pressing his face into her neck. She shut her eyes helplessly, a dejected whimper exiting her mouth.

“Just be fucking quiet. You don’t want everyone in this bar to know what a dirty slut you are, spreading your legs for a fucking stranger in the bathroom, right?” He said, words foul and like poison, but actions completely stark to it: he was pressing sweet, chaste kisses on her shoulder, laying his head on her back.

The man in the other stall was taking so fucking long to finish, and, despite the stranger’s words, he began to slowly rut into her, his large hands coming to rest on her hips and help her slide up and down on his cock.

Her eyes widened. “What are- ah, wh— what are you doing?” she said, a stuttered, hesitant moan leaving her mouth, but she was completely without the motivation to actually stop him: the pleasure she felt earlier had increased immensely in this slower, riskier pace he took on.

“Shh,” was all she saw him say, as she strained her neck to look at him. He looked the epitome of smug, lips curled, cheeks flushed attractively, strands of hair falling down onto his forehead.

Without his hand to muffle her groans, she muffled them herself, biting down on her tongue. One hand of hers gripped onto the stranger's thigh to keep her balance, and her other hand sneakily travelled down to her wet, hot mound, fingers beginning to rub at her clit.

He noticed this, however, hand gripping at her wrist and pulling her back to pin her arm behind her. “Only I get to touch you,” he snarled, “because this fuckin’ pussy’s all mine. Gonna be all mine.”

She let out a shaky exhale at his words, but she found her cunt more flexible than before, the soft slapping of her skin between each other sounding easier, wetter. Jesus, did she really get more turned on by what he’d said?

Finally, the person who had wandered in and entered the stall beside the one the two of them occupied, exited the bathroom entirely, and she belted out a sharp moan with how the stranger swiftly picked her up and pressed her against the wall once more, this time facing him.

He plunged his big cock into her like nothing before, animalistically, nails digging so hard into her hips she swore he drew blood. His pace was stuttered, desperate, like nothing could distract him from pounding into her, not even a fucking meteor.

She, on the other hand, was arching, the pleasure taking her body over completely. Her hands carded through his brown hair, tugging when he hit that particularly spongy spot into her. He groaned, a rough and stuttered thing, feeling himself brush against that spot every time.

Her tight cunt was stretching and contracting around his dick, like she was made with his fat length in mind, and it drove her up the fucking wall: the pain in her hip, the cold linoleum wall, his cock thrusting in and out — it was all so much, and her orgasm began to spill out from under her. It was slow, like water coming out of an overfilled glass.

“You — god, you’re fucking coming, aren’t you,” the stranger said knowingly. Her cunt had gotten tenser, stickier, trying to grip at him like she was afraid he’d never come back to her.

She nodded rapidly, opting to do so in fear an unintelligible string of groans would come out instead of words.

He grinned, and lifted her legs to wrap around his waist, allowing his cock deeper access into her. Her toes curled, the new angle like being impaled, his dick easily slipping past her slick folds.

One of his hands lifted off her hip and trailed across her lower stomach, “Can you feel that, baby? Its my fucking cock, so deep m’gonna shoot my come right in your womb,” he purred, pressing the bulge.

Both were affected, a breathy grunt slipping past his lips, and her a feverish mewl. She couldn’t believe how big he was, large enough for him to be fucking visible on her from the outside.

Suddenly, she remembered the man’s name: he’d said it, offhand, to the bartender before she had dragged him to the bathroom. He asked the bartender to put her drinks on his tab, under the name Matty.

Her face grew taut, her orgasm suddenly switching from a slow, sneaky drip to a hard smack, right across her face. “Matty! Matty, please,” she moaned at last, his name sounding right at home on her tongue.

“Fuck, honey, you remembered? God, that’s so hot,” He whispered sweetly, then dragged her through her orgasm, thick cock pounding in and out of her throbbing core.

It was like all the pleasure had steadily built up within her insides, all up into a big ball, then had suddenly burst, flowing throughout her entire body like she wasn’t already being fucked relentlessly.

“Such a - fuck - tight and pretty pussy,” he said, leaning in to rest his head against her chest. She was weak, sensitively riding out her high, but she knew Matty wasn’t quite as close.

His thrusts began getting sloppier, harsher and focussed merely on feeling her walls against every inch of him. Her head rested beside his own, eyes practically crossing with the overstimulation.

Despite her orgasm, her cunt was still soaking, definitely dripping and marking a wet patch on both her skirt and his pants. It made her tremble, thinking of them both tiredly exiting the bathroom, dishevelled and having to cover the other up.

At this point, she didn’t know what kind of filthy fucking noises were exiting her mouth, with Matty’s grunts and groans covering up her whines completely.

“M’gonna come,” he said a few long moments later, almost inaudible. “Say my name, say who owns this tight fucking pussy.”

“You do! Matty does!” She exclaimed, his cock ripping in and out of her quicker and more jolted. “Matty owns this pussy!”

Matty grinned weakly, and with one final, harried thrust, he let go deep within her. He clenched his jaw, brown eyes shutting tight and losing himself within the warm and wet feeling of her cunt squeezing him for every drop.

You was so fucking full, and even when Matty pulled his softening cock out of her — which, was still huge despite its idleness — she felt stuffed to the brim.

His come dripped down her leg, and he promptly pulled her panties up, patting her worn out cunt as he did so. “You’re taking all my fucking come, so good baby.” he said, pressing a hungry kiss to her neck. “You were right: this cunt’s better than whoever your shit ex cheated on you with.”

“Told you so.” She gazed up at him through heavy-lidded, gleeful eyes. He was an absolute darling sweetheart, it seemed, switching from degradingly fucking her to romantically praising you. “Are you… up for round two?” you said, as he slipped his hand within her own, clasping tightly. She didn’t really mean round two - though, she wouldn’t protest it, especially with his delectable way of fucking her - she actually just wanted to go home with him… see where this relationship could lead her.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to ask. You’re comin’ home with me tonight,” he saw through her cheekily, pulling her close to him.

So, she did go home with him, and in the morning she laid beside him in the ruffled white sheets, studying the beauty of his face whilst he slept. After that, they made frequent visits to that pub, specifically to the final stall on the left in the mens bathroom.

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ughgoaway · 3 months

Text

like your playboy bunny

a/n; this is bad. like criminally so... but I'm 3k + in, so you're getting it anyway, sorry!!!

Content warnings; kissing, unprotected sex, riding, semi-public sex, degradation, use of “bunny”, d-word, cum-play, breeding, rough sex, mirror sex, overstimulation, cursing, oral sex (f receiving) and just two horny mother fuckers <3

word count; 3.3k ish

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The final whining note of “people” is ringing in your ears, the green and yellow lights dancing across your face. And your eyes stay trained on him, watching Matty take his final bows on b-stage, playing up for the crowd with every second he has left on stage. Eventually, he unseriously flops in the hole in the middle of the stage, despite you telling him a thousand times over to try and be more careful with himself.

Soon enough, he's near your side. His skin was glowing with a thin layer of sweat, and his black vest stuck to his body in a way that was making your head spin. Silently, you grab his hand as soon as he's within your reach, pulling him towards you and pressing your lips against his harshly. If Matty is shocked, he doesn't show it. Immediately sinking into your embrace and pushing his tongue in your mouth, humming happily when you start grasping at his curls and pulling.

A few wolf whistles from the crew later, and you finally wrenched yourself away from Matty, but his hand slides down to your ass and grips it firmly as his eyes trace your face. His chest heaved as his eyes danced around from feature to feature. Your darkened eyes and kiss-bitten lips were pulling his attention the most, and he's sure his looked the exact same. His lips were perhaps a little pinker with the stain of the malbec he'd been nursing all night.

You don't let him breathe another second before you drag him away to the green room, knowing everyone else would have cleared out already and be on their way to the hotel, desperate for a night away from the tour bus. But you cant be expected to wait to get back to the hotel before Matty could sink himself inside you, it was a fucking impossible expectation when he looked like that all night.

The door has just clicked shut behind you when Matty starts crowding you against it, cupping your head gently as he presses his desperate lips on yours. The kiss is all tongues and teeth, deliciously filthy and sticky, just the way you'd been envisioning it all night.

Needy hands are touching every inch of skin on the both of you, Matty’s hands groping your ass as yours scratch at his chest, trying to rip that vest off him so you could get a proper view of the tattoo you'd seen 1000 times before, but the way it was teasingly poking out the top of his vest all night was fucking torturous. His hands slide to your chest, grabbing handfuls of your tits and groaning appreciatively at the feeling of your hot skin against his.

The need for oxygen gets the better of you, but you also cant fuck against the door with Matty's bad knee, something you make fun of him for endlessly. So you both start wordlessly moving to the sofa in the middle of the room. You managed to rip your hands away from Matty for just a few seconds to drag your panties down your legs, smirking at Matty as you throw them aimlessly, pushing him down on the couch below you and havering over him powerfully.

You briefly think about sinking to your knees in front of him, letting him fuck your throat until he's filling your mouth with his release and throwing his head back, showing off his neck and making it beg to be covered in love bites. But you can’t go one more second without him inside you, and judging by how rushed Matty's hands are as he undoes his belt, he feels the same way.

Hungry eyes watch as Matty pulls his dick out of his trousers, his hand already pulling at his cock and hissing from the dry tug of his skin. You clamber onto his lap as quickly as your legs let you, sinking onto Matty with a sigh, throwing your head back and smiling at the ceiling. Matty's hands are on the hem of your shirt before you know it, pulling it over your head and gripping your bare tits with both his hands, calloused thumbs teasingly running over your nipples.

“Fuck, so pretty when you're wrapped around me, sweetheart. You gonna bounce on my dick? Yeah? Be a good bunny for me, ride daddy's cock.” you cant help but mewl at the nickname, a shiver coming up your spine at his words mixed with the roughness of his voice. It's then you realise thats the first thing hes said since getting off stage, every other second had been filled with desperate breaths and unspoken agreements.

Matty feels you tighten around him at the use of the nickname, smirking as you start slowly rising up and down on his cock, “you like that, baby? Being my little bunny?” you nod your head dumbly, already feeling your brain leaking out of your ears at the feeling of him pulsating inside of you, hitting that spot that no-one else can ever reach, not even you when you're alone.

“Give me a little show then, let me see my bunny bounce for me,” Matty sighs and leans back against the cushions behind him, groping your tits and watching you bounce on his dick. Every circle of your hips was making your mind foggy. Pink flush is growing over your skin, decorating your cheeks and chest, and your pulse is thrumming beneath your skin, becoming faster with every rise and fall.

But the burning in your thighs is undeniable, after standing for the whole show your legs were already weak, and Matty can see you shaking each time you fuck yourself on him. The determination in your eyes was clear, but so were your weakening muscles and the tears forming in your eyes. You also weren't moving fast enough of Matty, and he was having to fight the urge to jackhammer his hips into you, so he asked the question he could see you needed him to.

“Oh is my little bunny too tired, cant even fuck herself on daddy's cock, huh? Want me to use you like my cocksleeve baby, yeah? let daddy take over, angel.” A slack nod and a whimpered “yes” from you is all Matty needs to scoop you up bring you across the room and drop you on the makeup table that sits in the corner.

You think hes going to fuck you sitting down, but you know that won't satiate the growing fire in your abdomen. So you slide off the table and flip around, bending down and holding eye contact with Matty in the mirror in front of you as you do.

You watch his eye flick from your face in the reflection to your holes on show in front of him, and you know you've got him when his hands start sliding over the skin of your ass. Soon, hes moving down to pull the lips of your cunt apart, bending down to blow a cruel cold puff of air against your sticky skin.

“Fuck-” you whine, dropping your head against the hard oak of the table as Matty continues to study you. You fight the urge to close your legs, feeling vulnerable with his eyes trained on you, but you know he's seen you naked a thousand times before and in much more vulnerable positions than this.

“What was that? Gotta speak up for me, princess, let daddy know what my pretty bunny wants.” The nickname makes you tighten around nothing, and matty can't stop his finger from tracing your hole at the sight of you clenching.

The air is thick with an intoxicating mix of lust and dominance, matty knows hes got you wrapped around his little finger and you can feel how smug he is from the way his digits trace your skin, pressing his index finger against your clit and watching you squirm at the contact.

“Fuck me, please. Need you inside me again, Daddy, been thinking about it all night.” Your skin prickles when you feel Matty standing up behind you, looking up at him in the mirror with hunger in your eyes. You briefly flick your vision down to his dick, staring at his erection and wishing he was inside you already.

A firm hand on your jaw drags your eyes back to Matty, and he forces you to keep your head straight on, holding his eyes as he sinks into you again, pressing even deeper than he had been before. Your jaw drops in his grip as you feel every inch of him entering you. Every second that passes makes your pulse speed up under your skin.

Stretching you out has to be one of Matty's favourite feelings, and one of his favourite sights is also definitely watching your eyes roll into the back of your head as he works you open, still having to stretch ever so slightly to fit him inside you. The pressure is almost painful, but the spread is just enough to make your jaw shake and your cunt pulse, but not enough to hurt.

He watches his dick disappear into you with awe, thrusting slowly and gazing down as every inch starts slowly fucking you. Matty is so lost in watching himself sink inside you he almost misses your needy whimper, begging him to move. “Faster Daddy, please. Need it. Need you.”

And who is he to deny his favourite girl?

Matty smirks at you in the mirror, already smug about how blissed out you look with him barely fucking you, he cant wait to watch you slowly fall apart in front of him with each pump of his hips. But Matty doesn't have the patience to make you beg for him tonight. He needs to feel you finish around him and watch the tears stream down your cheeks.

His hips start moving at an unrelenting pace, the sound of skin slapping skin and obnoxiously loud moans are the only things that fill the air, the muttered chattering of the crew being drowned out by every wrecked whine and groan that falls from both your lips. You arch your back further after Matty pushes in impossibly deeper, your eyes shooting open as you feel him fucking parts of you that made stars dance across your vision.

Matty's thrusts are frenzied and ruthless, and he watches with a sick smile as black mascara-filled tears begin to trickle down your cheeks. Splinters of wood are digging into our fingers as you grip the edge of the desk, desperately trying to stop yourself from falling flat on your face at the pleasure firing in your every nerve.

But you're determined to watch Matty as he fucks you, his eyes flittering between yours and watching himself disappear into you, studying the way your wetness coats his dick.

“You like this baby, yeah? Fucking like rabbits? Practically fucking gagging for it the second I got off stage. Didnt even wait for me to clean up, no point when you're so. fucking. filthy.” Matty punctuates his sentence with deep thrusts, burying himself inside you almost as deep as he can and watching you cry around his cock, your tits bouncing with every reckless pump of his hips.

Frantic thrusts make it feel like your skin is going to bind together, making matty stuck inside you forever, and in this moment, that doesn't seem like too bad a fate. Especially with the way heat spreads deliciously under your skin, and the fire in your gut was ever-growing with every piston of Matty’s hips. You wouldn't be surprised if you were dripping onto the carpet below you, filthy squelching sounds permeating the air.

You both know the other is getting close, the telltale sounds falling from your lips. Matty's movements are growing more unorganised with every second. He’s losing any composure he might have had, taunting you mercilessly as you gasp around his cock.

“You can fucking take it baby. Look at me. Feels so good doesn't it? Tell me how good it feels, angel.” Matty smirks as he watches your jaw open to talk, using that time to bury himself in you to the hilt and holding himself there, watching your eyes roll to the back of your head and listening to you try to force words out of your chest.

Every time a word is just about to fall from your lips, Matty slides out ever so slightly and burrows himself deep in your guts. He almost wants to flip you over to watch the bludge he knows moving inside of you, but he can't deprive himself of being able to watch you in the mirror like this. Tits bounding and tears falling from your cheeks, a blissed-out smile on your lips.

“Feels so- fuck- so good, daddy. Can I cum? Please, I cant- cant hold on much longer” Matty wants to make you beg more, to have you sobbing and shaking as you try to keep yourself from falling over the edge, but he thinks if he feels you pulse around him one more time he’ll cum before you do, so he’s nodding his head quickly.

“C'mon, baby, cum for me. Let daddy pump his pretty bunny with his cum. Get you all full of me, just like you need.” a final gasp from you is all Matty hears before he feels you tighten around him, a vice-like grip around his cock as you cum. Your thighs shake with every thrust he makes, fucking you through your orgasm and making your head even hazier than it was.

Seconds later Matty is cumming too, sighing happily as he fills you up, muttering as he does. “you love it when I fuck my cum into you, yeah? Get you fucking pregnant, so full of me. You’d like that wouldn't you, such a slut. shit-”

After the aftershocks stop rattling through each of you, Matty pulls out, sighing and smirking as he watches his milky release start to fall from your hole. “Sit down on the desk for me, angel. gotta do a few more things for my girl,”

You nod as best you can, your whole body feeling weak after whatever the fuck just happened, spinning around and sitting on the desk. Your legs spread instantly, no thoughts of shame filling your head as Matty crouches down to watch his cum drip out of you. You snort as you flick your eyes down too, thinking about how typical man it is of Matty to do this, studying the white trails of his release that leave you.

Before you know it Matty’s tongue is on you, licking furiously and lapping at your cunt, moaning into you at the taste of you both filling his senses. You suck in a gasp of air, your voice cracking at the feeling of his hot tongue against your overstimulated clit.

“Fuck- shit- matty. Ohmygod” Your legs kick helplessly at the feeling, but you don't say your safe word so Matty knows he can keep fucking you with his tongue, laying it flat and licking a broad stripe up your cunt.

Matty mumbles against your skin as he moves his way down your cunt "Gotta clean up, yeah? Don't want anyone knowing you got fucked raw in public do you baby?" he shoots you a wink before pushing his tongue into you, lapping at the cum falling from inside you. He fucks his tongue inside you as his hands move to your waist, gripping you and holding your body in place as he buries his face between your legs.

The pain of overstimulation soon turns into pleasure, and Matty’s tortuous movements soon become mind-numbingly good, making the rubber band inside you tighten once again. But before you can fall over the edge, Matty is pulling away from you, blowing on your cunt cruelly just as he had earlier.

He loves watching you get so close to the edge that you swear you can touch it and then pull away again. He watches the way your chest heaves and your nipples harden. The way your eyelashes flutter against your cheek and tears build on your lash line. He loves watching you suck in a breath and prepare to arch your back and let pleasure fill your body, but then sighing and whining when he stops touching you.

You are about to complain when Matty comes up from between your legs, smirking as he starts to speak, "C’mon, clean up your mess, bunny. Lick up daddy's cum for him, yeah?" your head tilts in confusion but Matty is manhandling you before you ask any questions, pulling you up on shaking legs and flipping you around again, making eye contact with you over your shoulder.

He pushes your head down and nods, flicking his eyes down to the few pearls of cum left on the hardwood desk. You catch on to what he means, bending at your waist and sticking your tongue out, lapping up the cum that dripped out of you before Matty got his mouth on you. You push back against Matty as you do, grinding your hips slightly against his half-hard cock.

Matty nods absentmindedly watching you in awe, but his dick stirring brings him back to earth. He doesn't think twice before grabbing his dick and sinking inside you once again, watching your eyes widen and revelling in the moan that comes from your open mouth.

As much as he loves edging you, Matty loves watching you fall over the edge more. He loves the way your face lights up, the smile that comes across your face, and how quickly it gets replaced with a dropped jaw and shaky breaths.

He adores the way your thighs tighten, shaking as your body is wracked with so many sensations.

He loves the feeling of you pulsing around him, and his favourite part is your babbled praise and thank you’s, desperately trying to tell him how good you're feeling, and how you know it's all because of him.

So he doesn't thrust this time, just uses his calloused finger to rub your clit until you cum around him again, and studies the way you do everything he fucking loves, down to the stuttered praise.

“So good- ah! Thank you, Daddy, so good to me. Fuck-” You sigh happily at the feeling of cumming again, the same white shapes dancing across your vision and the electricity thrumming through you, head to toe. But exhaustion is getting the better of you, and you can't help but yawn just as Matty is pulling out of you.

“Oh I’m sorry, am I boring you?” Matty teases, pinching your hip teasingly at the sight of your yawning face in the mirror.

“Oh yeah, one of our more boring green room fucks, I think. Gotta step up your game Healy.” you tease back, giggling lightly at Matty's eyes rolling.

You stand up straight, stretching and flicking your eyes around the room, “right, where did my panties go again? I've got to stop throwing them” you sigh. Matty points to the left of you, and as soon as you turn, you can't help but giggle at the sight of your pink panties hanging off the corner of the mirror.

You're half tempted to leave them there and let the next people in here ask a thousand questions. But before you can, Matty is grabbing them, winking at you, and slipping them into his pocket.

“Ugh, what a boy,” you say cheekily.

Matty's hand swats your ass harshly as he corrects you, “What a man, I think you mean. I've got a tattoo and everything” he points at the ink on his chest, and you laugh lightly at his words.

“Sorry, what a man” you emphasise the last word, and Matty is pressing a kiss to your lips in thanks before you can finish giggling.

#oops #happy late easter #so sorry ab this #good concept got rushed </3 #but i only had today to get it done lol #3.3k in like 3hrs oops #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #matty healy fic #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut #matty healy x reader

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