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god-has-entered-my-body · 6 months

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If you're all I need - M.H x Reader // pt.5

A/N: this is genuinely my first time writing anything let alone smut (if you can even call it that, it's just Matty being pathetic for about 4 thousand words) TW: for hard drugs, please take care of yourselves! Its angsty and sad, i had a hard time writing some of it. Ily @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff for beta reading this monstrosity. I'm dedicating this fic to @sugar-coat-it for being an absolute legend and the sweetest person ever. Enjoy yourselves my loves ❤️

wc: 4.5k

part six

The Sound was like your second home. The flashing lights and too loud music enveloping you in a sort of warm, comforting hug. You were friendly with the staff, never rowdy or disturbing the peace. They knew about you and Mattys' habit, but then again, the whole club was on some substance or other.

Tobias, the bartender, had told you multiple times to “Please, be careful,” and to “Always check over it, make sure it's not laced,” you took his words to heart, and Matty always assured you his dealer was straight.

You trusted him with your life, so you took his words at face value.

Generic club music filled your ears, your drink was already sloshing in your hand, spilling onto the person in front of you. You apologize profusely, and are met with a scoff and an insult. Typical. Not caring, you turn around to dance with Matty. George was somewhere in the crowd, shouting song requests at the DJ like an absolute knobhead. Too many drinks turned him into a club music connoisseur, always knowing better. It was a miracle he hadn't been kicked out yet.

Matty stopped dancing, tapping your shoulder three times in a pattern. Bathroom. Nodding your head, you laugh giddily in anticipation, making your way towards the edge of the crowd. The neon sign glowed, illuminating your face as you walked past it, Matty following close behind.

Jess, one of the waitresses, saw you heading toward the bathroom.

She was your mate from school, being only two years older than you. You saw her mouth something along the lines of ‘be safe’. She nodded at you before going back to taking drink orders from the VIP tables.

The bathroom was always colder than the dance floor, more comfortable. As you turn the corner to go inside, you spot a familiar face. Ruby. The girl from that night. She looks different, exhausted.

You embrace, her hands shaking against your back. Offering her a line in return, she eagerly agrees. Matty takes out the baggie from the breast pocket of his suit jacket (yes, he had worn a suit jacket to the club), cutting three lines. Patrons walking in and out of the bathroom stopped to stare, eventually walking off muttering “fucking junkies,” under their breaths. You could care less, snorting your line first.

Time slowed as you lifted your head up in the direction of the entrance, to see a tall figure standing there. George. Fuck.

Matty was already doing his line when you tapped him on the back, gesturing to the door. You’d been caught. His eyes were wide, switching between you, Matty, and Ruby, who was still hunched over the sink.

“What the fuck are you lot doing,” He starts, storming toward the three of you. Ruby whispered into your ear, telling you she had to leave. You nod, as calm as possible, giving her a kiss farewell. She smiled her toothy smile, eye bags under her eyes prominent.

George had grabbed Mattys face, inspecting the faint traces of white powder under his nose, muttering some along the lines of “Jesus Christ mate, what are you doing?”

His eyes made their way to you, the expression on his face a look of pure disappointment.

“Oh fuck off! It's just a bit of blow, what's the big deal? Loads of people do it,” Matty laughs, avoiding George's gaze. You nod your head in agreement. At the end of the day, what was so wrong about wanting to feel good for a few hours? It's not like you were addicted.

“You cant say shit like that Matty, it fucking scares me,” his voice quivers, shaken up. “Youre fucking enabling each other, how can you not see that?” You roll your eyes, and Matty grabs your wrist, tugging you behind him. George tries to shout after you.

“Bugger off, George, you're not my mother,” you spit that last word at him, turning around to make eye contact before losing yourself in the crowd. Mattys hand grips yours with such an intensity you’d think he'd want to rip it off of you. You're both heading for the exit, the warm air of the summer night hitting your skin.

Matty looks at you, his pupils massive. He's sweating, the powder still sticking to his nose. You reach out, brushing it off. It clings to your fingers. You tap his lips, signaling for him to open his mouth, He obliges, parting his pink, rose lined lips. Your finger feels hot in his mouth as you rub it onto his gums. A whimper escapes him, and he looks down at you, eyes filled with one thing and one thing only. Lust.

“Please,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. Your eyes narrow, and you bring your other hand up to stroke his face.

“What do you want, Matthew?” your voice is steady. You felt in control.

Another pathetic whine, his legs buckle beneath him as you trailed your hand down his jaw, stopping at his throat. Your fingers wrapped around it, and you could feel his erratic pulse thrumming in his neck. This felt wrong. Very, very wrong. But you don't stop, you never stop.

Your lips finally connect. The kiss is messy, all teeth and tongue. His breathing quickens, and you tug off his jacket, revealing his bare chest. The faint light of the alley didn't do him justice, but he looked beautiful. Your breath hitches when he loses a hand in your hair, his fingers weaving through it.

You can hear faint sirens in the background, as well the sound of cars speeding down the highway.

“George is a tosser, he doesn't know anything,” Matty murmurs against your mouth, taking your bottom lip between his teeth. His left hand rests on your waist, drawing endless circles onto your lower back.

“Yeah,” you agree. “I hope Ruby’s okay though, she looked proper rough.” Matty shakes his head, pushing your face into his chest. The two of you stand there like that, breathing in each other's essence. A strange sense of unease clouds your mind, interrupted by Mattys lips crashing against yours.

—--------------------------------------------------------------

“Can I pierce you?”

“No fucking chance you’re going near my body with a needle,” Matty laughs, taking a swig from the bottle of champagne in his hand. You wanted to practice, and Rome wouldn't let you do any more on him. You sigh, laying back on your elbows, staring at the ceiling.

“D’you even have the proper supplies or anything? Let me guess, Rome has converted you.” You nod, confirming his suspicion of Rome’s involvement. You plead with him further, and he inevitably gives in.

“If you fuck it up, i will never forgive you.” you laugh at him, slightly tipsy but still in control of yourself. “You have to chill, mate, it's just me shoving a needle into your body.”

“What do you wanna do? I was thinking maybe a second ear piercing or-” you cut him off

“I wanna pierce your nipples, that's the one i haven't done yet” you say, trying to sound nonchalant. Truthfully, your heart was racing at the thought of doing it. His was too.

“Are you sure? I don't want my nipples to disintegrate. It's quite a turn off, y’know? Not having any.” you roll your eyes at him, turning around to get the piercing kit Rome had given you as a late birthday present.

It contained various needles, disinfectant wipes and starter jewelry. Matty had already laid down onto the bed, unbuttoning his shirt.

Tearing the wipe open with your teeth, you turn around to face him. His breathing is unsteady, you can tell

“Calm down, it'll just be a pinch. I know what I'm doing,” he grins, brushing his hair out of his face. “We both know that's not true, but I trust you.” I trust you. The words reverberate through your skull, making you smile.

You wipe the needle first, then his chest. Using a pen, you mark where you want the jewelry to go. He had picked out a black, circular barbell. Fitting.

“Ok, just like, take a deep breath. You can't move” your voice is low, your hands trailing up his chest. It felt intimate, seeing him like this.

“Just do it, I'll be alright,” he shuffles slightly against the sheets of the bed, gripping them between his fingers. You know he thinks you won't notice, but he's nervous. You press a kiss next to his mouth, your eyes never leaving his.

Taking a breath to steady your hands, you push through the bud. You expect him to wince, maybe even cry. They were supposed to be quite painful.

Instead, he moans. Oh? You cock an eyebrow at him, noticing he’s beat red. The sight makes you giddy. He’s enjoying this.

A small tear rolls down his cheek as he twitches against the mattress. The look on his face is clear. Desperation.

His hands relax slightly, and you push the jewelry through.

“G-god dammit, fuck.” The noise is like music to your ears. He grew redder, if that was even possible. His eyes lock with yours. He's embarrassed. A grin spreads onto your face as you flick the jewelry, looking to elicit another reaction.

Your experiment proves correct, and he lets out a pathetic whimper, slapping his hand over his mouth to stifle it. Too late.

“Do you like it when I hurt you?” you ask, taking in the sight before you. Matty was sprawled across your bed, panting like a dog, skin flushed a light pinkish hue. His chest moved up and down rapidly, his hand covering half of his face.

His response is a slight nod, eyes searching yours for your reaction. You offer him a smile, your heart full of love. He trusted you that much. He trusted you enough to hurt him.

“We’ll do one today, save the other for later?” you suggest, your hand playing with his curls. He blinks back tears, nodding at you. His arms reach out for you, pulling you on top of him. Your chests press together, and he winces at the pressure on his piercing. Your lips move against each other, and he slips his tongue into your mouth. You moan at the intrusion, he props himself up on his elbows, looking for leverage. You don't give it to him, pushing him down.

He pulls away, eyes raking over your frame. Grinning, he bites his lip provocatively. Your fingers move to his eyes, smearing his eyeliner down his face. He laughs, the sound morphing into a moan as you grind down onto him. Only slightly, never giving him what he really wants.

He looks fucked out, raw. You still, getting off him with a wink. He looks at you puzzled, wondering if he did something wrong. He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“I know what you want, and I'm not going to give it to you. Not until you earn it.” He sits up, eyes silently pleading with you. Pleasepleasepleaseplease. He begged, you could see it on his face.

“Let's go out, I'm bored,” he shuddered at your words, getting up from his position. Walking over to your wardrobe, he pulled out a shirt of yours to wear. He was going to play your game.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Let's do something fun! Lets go decorate plates or something,” you suggest, your words being met with an eye roll from Matty.

“You're taking the piss, I'd be torn apart if I was seen decorating plates” He laughs, pushing you off to the side. You were walking down an empty street, the sun shining slightly between the clouds. It was fairly warm.

You neared a hobby shop, dragging Matty in with you, filtering out his groans of protest “Oh for fucks sake, let me go!” he huffs, pulling his arm out of your grasp. You raise your eyebrows at him, a slight smile creeping into your face. He smiles back at you, reluctantly turning towards the large selection of rhinestones in front of him.

You picked out your favorite colors, giddily holding them as Matty selects a pack of white ones. On the way out, you grab a pack of lighters, one white, one a dark hue of grey. The cashier hands you your change, wishing you a nice rest of your day. With a wide grin on your face, you do the same.

Matty fidgets with the hem of his shirt as the both of you leave the shop. Walking aimlessly, you eventually settle on a park bench, spreading out your supplies. He groans, trying to pick the rhinestones off to glue them on, clearly struggling. You help him, your fingers ghosting over his as you take the plastic sheet out of his hands.

He had taken the black lighter out of the pack, and was now gluing stones onto it with laser-focus, not wanting to mess up. You took the grey one, paring it with pink rhinestones. Your initials brandished the side once you finished.

Matty had done the same, even if the letters were a bit crooked. M.H was glued hastily onto the side of his, some of the rhinestones barely hanging on. He smiled at you as you swapped lighters, now holding his.

It looked exactly like the one you had destroyed. A shiver crept up your spine, memories of that night flashing into your mind. The pure rage you had felt, watching the plastic splinter off onto the pavement. The images of Matty plaguing you.

But that was before. Before he had kissed you. You felt differently now, but still, a feeling of unease spread through your body as you flicked it on and off, watching the flame dissipate.

His hand was touching your, he was saying your name

You look up, your eyes meeting his. He smiles.

“Do you like it? I tried my best to make it not look like shit,” his voice was timid, a hint of insecurity could be heard. “I love it,” you assure him, putting the lighter into your pocket.

“Do you like yours? I know they are not the manliest of colors, but-”

“I love it because you made it, that's all that matters,” he cut you off, his thumb tracing the back of your hand.

You feel your heart flutter at his words, doing backflips in your chest.

He pulled out his red cigarette case, pulling out a baggie filled with weed. The two of you had promised to stay sober today, but you nodded as he asked you if you wanted to smoke. You get out your papes and filters, rolling it for him.

He had stopped making comments, instead watching you lick the spliff closed with such an intensity, you thought you would catch on fire. His eyes bore into you as you lit up, and you hand it to him to take the first drag. How the tables have turned

His lips wrap around the filter, breathing in deeply, letting the sensation take over his body. He hands it to you, his hands shaking slightly. Your lipstick rubs off on the spliff, painting the filter with a red rim.

You hold each other, sitting on the park bench, passing the joint back and forth for what felt like hours, until it dwindled out. The streetlamps had come on, one flickering on and off in the distance. The moon peaked out though the clouds, the blue light only making him look more beautiful.

You observed his face, his eyes drooping slightly as the high took over him. He let out deep breaths, his chest rising and falling slowly. Your fingers were intertwined, his hands felt warm against your skin. Every so often, he would twitch slightly against you.

The sun had almost set, barely even there as night took over the sky. The people in the park had gone home, only the occasional dog walker passing by you, quietly saying hello.

“What are we?” his voice pierced through your heart, making it bleed into your chest.

“I dont know.” you answer, pulling him closer. You stayed like that, your bodies melding together until you both fell asleep, his soft snores filling the empty park

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I just got off the phone with Ross, he wants to hang at their place.” you shout up the stairs. Matty was in the shower, the hot water steaming up the glass of the mirror.

“Sure, we haven't been over there in a while, innit? It’d be nice to have us all in one place again,” he answers, his voice amplified through the echo of the shower.

You were draped across his couch, watching the news. The TV spokesperson droned on, boring you half to death with stock market statistics. You switch it off, sighing as you got up. Opening the door to the bathroom, you see Matty standing in front of you. A grey towel hung low on his waist, barely hanging on. Your breath hitches at the sight.

“Yeah?” he asks, shaving cream covering his face and neck. Jesus Christ.

“I need to do my makeup, move.” you shove him out of the way, riffling through his bathroom drawer, looking for the makeup bag you had left there. Sure enough, you find it, the red material sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the towels and colognes filling the space.

You start doing your eyes, lining your waterline with a deep blue. Matty continues shaving next to you, nearly nicking his skin more than once. You make eye contact in the mirror multiple times, blushing as you look away. God, you're so pathetic.

He scoots past you and makes his way towards his room, presumably to go and change. The urge to follow him is strong, but you stay in your current position, looking at him as he walks away. You hear the bedroom door close, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Finishing up your routine, you go back downstairs and sit on the couch, waiting for Matty. He takes an oddly long time, and you can hear him shuffling around in his room. You wonder what he's doing, absentmindedly playing with the posh table decor his mother had set on the table.

Eventually, deciding he's taking too long, you walk over to the window located in his kitchen and crack it open. Lighting your cigarette, your eyes travel up and down the street. Children ride by on their bikes, their older siblings chasing after them. The occasional family walks by, waving hello at you before returning to their conversation. You ash into the sink.

A little girl makes eye contact with you. She reminds you of yourself, eyes full of innocence and naïveté, her rose colored dress blowing in the wind. You take a drag of your cigarette, watching as she walks by.

“You ready?” a voice says behind you, making you jump, almost banging your head against the wall you were leaning against. You turn around, seeing Matty in front of you. He has your jumper on, the red one. It's freshly washed and pressed, paired with a blue pair of loose fitting jeans. His hair is messy as always, the blonde highlights sticking out, framing his face.

“You need to start giving me my clothes back,” you say, gesturing to his top.

“Only if you cough up mine,” he says with a laugh, pointing at your pants. They were, in fact, his.

“Touché.” you shrug, walking past him, grabbing his wrist to pull him after you. Throwing your cigarette into the trash, the both of you put on your shoes.

It's sunny outside, and you can see Matty sweating in his your jumper, but you don't say anything. You stop by the corner shop on your way there, buying a pack of fags for Matty.

The cashier tucks her hair behind her ears as the both of you walk up to the counter to pay. He asks for parliaments, and she hands them to him

“That’ll be 6 quid,” leaving the sentence open “and your number?” she asks him, batting her eyelashes. The question makes you freeze, eyes on Matty. It seems to take him by surprise, he sucks in a deep breath before opening his mouth to speak:

“Nah, that's alright, this is my girl right here,” he takes your hand, lifting it up. His girl. You nod timidly, and the girl apologizes. “You're so cute together,” she comments, giving you the fakest smile you've ever seen. You shoot one back.

“Jesus, sorry mate, didn't want to let her down too hard. Soz for using you as a cover.” A cover? Was that what that was?

“No big thing, glad my gender could be of service,” you try to sound unbothered, grinning at him the best you can. Your heart deflated in your chest, a weight crushing down on it. You were his mate, not his girl. That was clear now.

The rest of the walk is spent with headphones in your ears. Micheal Jackson's “Bad” played, drowning out your thoughts.

The hallway leading to the flat is cold, the white marble almost too white, like it had been recently cleaned. Matty bangs on the door, yelling at Ross to open up. He does.

“Jesus Matty, there's this thing called a doorbell-” “Stop fucking me off and let us in,” Matty pushes past a very offended Ross, stalking into the livingroom. You trail behind him, seeing George come into your line of sight.

Your breath hitches. This is the first time you’ve seen him since that night. He looked uncomfortable, eyes darting around the room. It smells clean in the flat, and you assume Hann had had another one of his cleaning frenzies.

Adam’s sitting on the sofa, and so was george. They looked tense. Matty was in the kitchen making himself a cup of tea. You sit down next to Hann, watching Ross make himself comfortable on the giant sofa chair. The air is thick, full of something you can't recognise.

“Matty, can you maybe sit down?” Adam says, his voice deep and tired. He obliges, sitting down on the edge of the sofa chair next to Ross. Mattys hand holds the mug of tea, tapping his fingers against the ceramic. George is fidgety next to you, rolling and unrolling his sleeves, letting out uncomfortable coughs every few seconds. You narrow your eyes, cocking your eyebrow at him. He shakes his head.

“We know you’ve been using,” Hann’s voice cuts through the silence. Mattys head perks up.

“Blow? Seriously?”

“What about it?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. Fuck. Matty clears his throat before speaking.

“What she said– what does it matter? It's just blow, nothing special. Everyones on it, y’know.” His voice comes out rough, deep.

“Its fucking horrible, how can you do that to yourselves?” The question comes from George. He told them

“You fucking told them? Are you taking the absolute piss?” you sound harsh, he looks at you with wide eyes. Matty laughs maniacally, setting down his mug on the coffee table. The tea sloshes onto the glass, dirtying it.

“Ohh- I get what this is-” he looks at you, shaking his head. “This, my love,” he gestures to the three men sitting around you “Is their pathetic attempt at an intervention.” You scoff, looking at Ross, who confirms his statement.

“We’re worried about you two, just– “ Matty walks over to you, cutting him off. You get up, nodding at him in silent agreement. You needed to get the fuck out of here. Now.

“Youre all a bunch of fucking tossers, what do you care what we do? It doesn't affect you!”

George speaks up: “Of course it affects us, you're our best mates, for fucks sake.” His voice trails off, seeing you ignore him made his heart hurt. What did they know? They shouldn't fucking talk about things they had no clue about.

“Fuck you guys, honestly,” Matty spat, his eyes full of hatred “C’mon love, they probably don’t want two dirty junkies in their living room, hm?” You're already at the door, pushing it open. Hann yells after you, but you ignore him. Absolute asshole, staging an intervention like you were lost addicts. Fuck him.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------

You're back at Mattys place. You don't talk about what happened in the flat, you just hold each other. He had switched both of your phones off on the walk back. Adam was calling both of you like a crazy ex, begging you to come back and talk. You ignore him.

The curtains are drawn closed, painting the room in darkness. The only light is coming from the TV neither of you is paying attention to.

“D’you fancy a line?” he asks, grinning down at you. You agree, getting off of him. He cuts two lines, letting you snort yours as he watches. It hits you like a truck, the feeling of pure euphoria. How can something that was ‘bad for you’ be this good? It made no sense. You mentally curse at Adam for trying to act like your parent. He had no fucking right.

Matty started deeply into your eyes as you climbed back on top of him, straddling his lap. Once again, there's purple glitter around his eyes, shimmering in the light of the TV. He smirks at you provocatively, locking your lips with his. He kisses you with passion, moving his lips in sync with yours. He pulls away.

“You,” he starts, punctuating the word with a kiss to the edge of your mouth “are a work of art.”

You smile at his words, threading your hand into his hair, tugging hard. He whimpers into your mouth, twitching beneath you.

“You're hard.” you state, pressing a kiss to his jaw, biting down. He moans again, arching his back.

“I–,” he starts, interrupted by your hand reaching down and squeezing him through his pants. He pulses in your hand, begging. Another pathetic whine, his hips buck into your hand.

An idea pops into your head, and you slowly get off of him. He protests, his eyes watching you stand up next to him. He looks so beautiful like this, breathing heavily and painfully hard.

“I want you to touch yourself for me, Matthew." You can see him twitch as the words leave your lips.

"Go on, give me a show.”

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