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#matty healy smut
hrryshoney · 2 days
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girlie getting stressed or overstimulated and matty gives her foot, head, back, boob massage then starts fingering her<3
anon i think this is the greatest idea i’ve ever heard. yes, you are so genius.
You came in the door and immediately dropped your bag on the floor. A sigh falling from your lips as you kicked off your shoes and shrugged off your sweater. To say you had a bad day would be a gross understatement. Everyone at your job was aggravating you, and you couldn’t take another day of it.
You had to hide away in the bathroom earlier so you didn’t cry from anger, and now you just wanted to decompress. As you stepped into the living room, you saw Matty scrolling on his phone laid out on the couch. When he heard your footsteps approach, he immediately sat up. Putting his phone down, opening his arms for a hug.
You all but ran to him, immediately collapsing into his arms and wrapping your own around him. “Hi, love.” He squeezed you into the embrace, feeling you melt into him. He took his hand and rubbed the back of your head. “Everything alright?” Matty’s lips were close to your ear, and you could feel his breath fan across your face. You shook your head, and he poured before pressing a kiss to your temple. “What’s wrong, angel?”
“Oh, don’t get me started. Everything is wrong.” You let your forehead rest on Matty’s shoulder and closed your eyes. You didn’t care if you were being dramatic. You had a horrible day, and a horrible week at this point. All you wanted to do was turn your brain off and relax. “And my boss is a dick. I’m so over it. I need a spa day or some shit.” You chuckled through your sigh, at least trying to find some humor in the situation.
Matty pulls away from you, pressing kisses all over your face. “You know,” He starts, positioning you between his legs. His hands found their place on your shoulders, pressing into your pressure points with his thumbs. “I’ve been told I’m very good with my hands. Could be your personal masseuse.” You find yourself nodding your head already, succumbing to how good his hands feel on you. Practically melting your stress away.
Matty’s strong hands rub across the expanse of your shoulders and neck, fingers even coming up to massage your temples. You have your eyes closed, simply enjoying what he’s giving you. He flipped you over on the couch, straddling your waist so he could spot even more pressure on your back. Eventually, you ended up with your shirt lifted. Matty’s hands working on your bare skin.
“Feels good. Can you work the middle of my back?” Your words were muddled from your face pressed against the couch cushion. Matty could still make out your request, though. He bunched your shirt up even more so that most of your back was out. He got his hands back on you, pressing down with the palms of his hands.
After a while you felt his movements halt, and Matty stirring behind you. He spoke up, “Can I unclip your bra? Just so it’s more comfy, you know.” His fingers toyed with the clasp of your bra, other hand still rubbing soothing circles on your lower back. You let out an appreciative noise.
You nodded your confirmation almost instantly. “Yeah, whatever works. Don’t mind.” Your body practically deflated when Matty’s hands deftly unclipped your bra with little struggle. He pulled it out from under you, discarding it to somewhere on the floor. You felt like you could breathe again, and your shoulders were able to relax. His thumbs smoothed the indents that your bra had left on your skin.
As you lay on the couch, Matty’s hands started to sneak around the sides of your body. You felt his fingers crawl up the mounds of your breasts. He pressed lightly into the sides, the soft skin molding under his touch. His palms were basically cupping your breasts now, and you gasped at the stimulation on your nipples. His fingers skillfully stroked the skin around your areolas. “Pretty girls should never have to be stressed. Only worry you should have is my hands on your body.” Matty rolled your nipples between either of his thumb and index finger.
He squeezed your boobs again, and you moaned out beneath him. You could feel Matty’s strong thighs squeeze your sides at the noise you made. He continued to rub your breasts, hands occasionally slipping upward or downward. Allowing himself to rub your upper chest and neck, and the area right under your boobs. “So, so perfect.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your mid back.
“More, please.” You arched your back into his touch, the stimulation on your nipples igniting arousal between your thighs. You felt Matty’s weight disappear from your back. The next thing you knew, he was on his knees in front of you.
“C’mon, then. Sit up for me.” You obeyed, getting in sitting position on the couch. You felt vulnerable, top and bra already off as Matty was infront of you fully clothed. The feeling doubled when he began to slide your sweats off your body. You were left in your simple panties now, Matty not even paying them any mind. He started massaging your calves and thighs, then working his way down to your feet.
As he rubbed your legs, you tried (and failed) to hide the fact that you were squeezing your thighs together. Your nipples were still hard from his earlier attention, and he kept rubbing dangerously close to your inner thighs. Though, of course Matty knew. He was holding your legs in his hands, and he could feel the way your muscles flexed under his touch. “Matty, please.”
“What, baby?” He smirked, leaving in to kiss your upper thigh. You could feel the teasing smile against your skin, and you could hear it in his tone. “Need me to make everything better? Make you so dumb, only thing you can think about is me?” His fingers gripped your thighs harder, dancing closer to the waistband of your panties. You held back from bucking your hips, instead squirming on the couch. You nodded your head profusely.
“Yes, please.” You let your head hit the back of the couch, closing your eyes tightly. “I need it so bad, need you so bad.” You bit your lip so hard you thought it’d bleed. Matty’s fingers were now circling the crotch of your underwear. You couldn’t stop the mind from slipping out of your mouth. You were sure there was a wet spot forming. You whined through gritted teeth. “Please, Matty. Need to feel good, you’re the only one who gets me there.” At that, his thumb comes to press down on top of your bundle of nerves above your panties. Your hips grind up into his fingers, trying to relieve the pulsing in your clit.
Matty moves his palm up your stomach, fiddling with the elastic of your waistband so he can push his hand beneath your panties. You let your knees fall open, giving him access to the bare sensitive mound between your thighs. He feels the warm heat radiating off your cunt as he cups his hand on your sex. You jolt against the couch, and Matty lets out a breath of his own as he slides his middle fingers through your tight slit.
You squirm as he runs his fingers through your folds, his thick fingers rubbing through your slit to find your bundle of nerves. Searching to strike your clit so he has your dripping down his hand.
Matty can feel how slick you are, and he draws tight circles on your clit. His fingers feel like heaven, and you let your mouth fall open to let out the loud moans you’ve been holding back. Your body writhes as you suddenly feel another one of his fingers join the other, gravitating towards your hole. His fingers meet at your entrance, sliding inside of you to stretch you out.
Your hips meet the rhythm of his hand, meeting the thrusts he’s making with his fingers. The calluses on his fingers creating an even more delicious friction. “That’s it. Lemme fuck you dumb, let that brain leak out through your cunt. Shouldn’t even have to work, right baby?” He groans, letting his cheek rest on your thigh. The cool skin making you gasp as it comes in contact with your warm body. “Yeah, should just stay home and get your pussy stuffed all day.”
The warmth forming in your abdomen was starting to go throughout your entire body. You could feel the white hot pleasure permeating your senses. “Matty, please. Need it so fucking bad.” You stuttered out through ragged breaths, his fingers never stopping their assault. Your voice coming out as a raw whine. Matty’s hand pressed down roughly on your clit. His two fingers continued to stretch your hole. “Don’t stop, I’m so close.”
Matty’s pupils were completely dilated. His face was so close to your pussy, and he watched as his own fingers worked you to an orgasm. Matty blew out a puff of air from his lips, making you shiver as you felt it fan across your cunt. Your walls clenched around his fingers. “I’ve got you, baby. Breathe. Cum for me, let go.”
His words pushed you over, the gravel in his voice making your toes curl. Your orgasm racked through your body with a shudder, and you squirmed as he fucked you through it with his fingers. Your orgasm was pulsing relentlessly, and Matty’s fingers wouldn’t stop moving. When you finally stop shivering, Matty pulls his fingers out of you and instantly brings them to his mouth. Licking your juices off his digits.
You looked at him, surely looking like you got struck by lightning. He took a lot out of you, and it really was unwinding. Matty got off his knees, bending to kiss your forehead. You looked down at the very obvious tent in his pants, but he rubbed your shoulder. “Gonna go run us a bath, angel. Join me when you’re ready.” His hand came to your chin, pulling you in for a kiss that you happily reciprocated.
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wreckedandpolemic · 18 hours
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fighting with my sheets - matty healy
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(mdni) in which you discover your boyfriend’s dirty little secret and bring him to his knees. part of the white and gold universe. 3600 words.
warnings: daddy kink, praise, degradation, masturbation, sex toys, sub!matty, oral (f and m receiving)
Matty’s at work when you find it, tucked innocently away under his bed. You’re getting ready for your date and you drop an earring, sending it skittering into darkness. Groaning, you kneel, feeling blindly for it, and your hand bumps against a shoebox. Curious, you tug it into the light; it’s innocuous, plain black and not matching any of the shoes you know he owns, the tape loosely holding it shut practically inviting you to nose through its contents.
Peeling the lid off, you flush siren-red, staring down at the box in disbelief. Your boyfriend’s hidden sex toy collection sits in your lap, cock rings and vibrators and even a fucking fleshlight staring back up at you. Flustered, you shove the box back under the bed, filthy fantasies playing so vividly in your head that you can practically hear his sweet, syrupy moans as he fucks into the toy. He’d be flushed, sweating, taking out his frustrations on the plastic the way he uses you after a long day.
Head swimming, your thighs clench, kicking off your panties and collapsing back against the pillows. Your own collection of toys lives in one of Matty’s bedside drawers, and you retrieve one of your vibrators, pressing it intently to your clit. A buzz of sharp, delicious pleasure rockets up your spine, a moan of his name falling from your lips as you grind down against the toy. You don’t hear Matty until he announces his presence, too distracted by the liquid heat pooling between your thighs. 
“Hi, princess,” he says, and you jolt, heart racing. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” you snap, bucking your hips and moaning theatrically. “C’mere.”
Matty laughs softly, slowly crossing the room to kneel at the foot of the bed. “Don’t be a brat,” he scolds. “What’s got you all needy, darling?” Oh, if only he knew.
What’s left of your brainpower goes on holding your cards close to your chest. “Want you,” you murmur, and Matty clicks his tongue fondly, his hand covering yours at the base of the toy.
“Here, baby, let me,” he urges, leaning down to kiss you as your hand falls from between your legs to your side. He picks up a familiar rhythm, your vision blurring with pleasure as Matty rolls the toy over your swollen clit. “So, so pretty, baby,” he praises. “My gorgeous girl. Fuckin’ dripping for me, yeah? Always so wet for your Daddy. Pretty little slut.”
You squirm, his words swirling together with the dizzying pleasure pulsing under your skin. “Only for you, Daddy,” you promise, pouting up at him until he kisses you again, slowly running the vibrator along your inner thigh as you tremble in anticipation. Matty dials the vibration up a notch, a scream tearing from your throat as he brings it back to your sensitive clit, intense pleasure-pain arcing up your spine.
Heat pools low in your belly, blood pounding in your ears as your heartbeat thrums in your cunt. “That’s right, pretty baby,” he smirks against your lips. “You’re all mine.” Breathing hard against Matty’s mouth, you writhe against the toy, desperate little whines slipping from your lips as your orgasm builds at the base of your spine. “Are you close, darling?”
“Mhmm,” you moan, head hazy. “Please, Daddy. Wanna cum f’you,” you slur out, deliriated and almost drunk on his touch.
Matty clicks his tongue. “We have reservations, baby,” he smirks, pulling the vibrator away from your clit. The loss feels like a physical ache, your body thrashing in protest as Matty kisses you softly and pulls away, wandering off to clean the toy as your chest heaves. “Come on, darling,” he says, emerging from the bathroom and watching you trying to catch your breath. “We’re gonna be late.”
Seething and unsatisfied, you pick yourself up and dress for dinner. It is really lovely, a secluded table at one of your favourite restaurants, candlelight sparkling between you with Matty gazing adoringly over your food, but you can’t help the tightness in your limbs, your short responses. You mull over the events of the afternoon, your thoughts circling around that little box under his bed as a revenge plan forms in your mind.
And you never found that fucking earring.
The ice in your veins thaws the longer you scheme, trading in your folded arms and monosyllabic answers for coy smiles and teasing murmurs of yes, Daddy. You let him lead you home and into the bedroom, trading lazy kisses and grinding in his lap. Matty’s hand trails up your thigh, electricity sparking under your skin under his touch. He still thinks he’s in control, you think with a smirk, pinching gently at your thigh as you put on your best performance of being his good little girl.
“Found something earlier, Daddy,” you say, pulling back and tracing your hand down his chest, slowly popping the buttons of his shirt.
Matty chuckles indulgently, still blissfully unaware of what you have in store. “What’d you find, princess?”
You hop to your feet and pull the box free, opening the lid with a smirk. Swallowing thickly, Matty avoids your eyes, shifting nervously as you settle back in his lap. “Do you use all this stuff, Daddy?” you tease, crooking two fingers under his jaw to force his gaze back to yours. 
“I- I used to,” he stammers, and you thumb gently over one of the spots of red on his cheeks.
“S’okay, Daddy,” you murmur, the power he’s handing you thick in your veins. Something about using the sobriquet while he melts under you feels illicit, delicious as it falls easily from your lips. “Don’t have to be embarrassed. Did they make you feel good?” He only nods, seemingly rooted to the spot as you palm over the growing tent in his slacks. “Can I use them on you? Wanna make you feel good, too.” Shuddering, Matty nods again, and you pout down at him, shaking your head. “Words, Daddy. You should know by now,” you tut, dizzy as you use his words on him this time.
“Fuck, yes, I want that,” he gasps, rocking his hips up against your hand.
You giggle, the subtle shine in his eyes familiar, jaw slack in an expression you’ve seen countless times on your own face. “Can you say please, Daddy? S’polite, if I’m giving you what you want.”
“Fuck, please, angel,” Matty almost whimpers, helplessly needy under your touch. You raise an eyebrow in response, an expression you learned from him. “Want you to… use my toys. On me. Please,” he chokes out, hanging his head.
You smile fondly, pressing a kiss against his slack lips. “Good boy. Was that so hard?” Matty moans softly, shuddering as you pop the button of his trousers. “You like when I call you a good boy, Daddy?” you murmur breathily, the dichotomous epithets tangling together in the air between you, thick with lust and promise. “Can you strip for me, baby?”
Obediently, Matty tugs off his shirt and kicks off his slacks, laying against the pillows in just his boxers. You’ll never get over the sight of him like this, chest heaving and cock hard and heavy between his legs; a pulse of arousal washes over you and drips into your panties. A wet patch spreads near his waistband and you grin as you strip to your underwear and straddle him, grinding against his clothed cock and leaning down to kiss him. Matty tangles his hands in your hair, licking desperately into your mouth and rocking his hips against yours. “You need to relax, Daddy,” you say, smiling softly against his mouth and peppering soft kisses over his jaw. “It’ll be more fun that way.”
“Fuck, princess, I’m–” Matty cuts himself off with a gasp as you slide your hand under his waistband and squeeze him gently, cock twitching under your touch. You ease him out of his boxers, a shuddering groan escaping him as his cock thuds against his belly, flushed and dripping precum. 
“Oh, you want this really bad, don’t you, Daddy?” you coo, pumping him slowly, slick desire dripping from your words. “Always callin’ me a slut, but you were just waiting for your turn to be ruined, huh?” You barely recognise your voice, low and dark and dominating, reducing your boyfriend, your smart, suave, older boyfriend into a whining, pathetic mess with a few scant touches. “Are you a slut too, Daddy?” You’ve played with the power dynamic before; Matty needs to give up his control sometimes, when the stress of his day-to-day gets too much for him, but never like this, never turning his filthy, degrading words back on him. The feeling is addictive.
This time, you don’t even have to prompt him. “Yeah, ‘m… ‘M a slut, baby,” Matty whimpers, your cunt clenching at his words. In reward, you dig your nail into his slit, the tip of your finger coming up sticky and coated with the evidence of his desire.
“Such a good boy, Daddy. You ready?”
You climb off him, retrieving the fleshlight and turning back to him. He sucks in a sharp breath at the sight of your hands wrapped around the toy, hips shifting needily as he gasps out, “Yeah. Yeah, ‘m ready, baby. Please.”
You come back to him slowly, teasingly, but he’s been so good that you don’t want to torture him any longer. Uncapping a bottle of lube, you coat the toy in it, fingers sticky and dripping as you slowly slide it down his length. A shuddering moan escapes him, his eyes glued to the sight of you, whining and bucking his hips into the toy. “God, look so fuckin’ pretty like that,” you moan, grinding your hips down against the bed, bursts of hot pleasure rolling under your skin. “Can’t believe you own all this stuff, Daddy,” you giggle breathily, pinching a nipple through your bra as you stroke him. “So naughty. Did you have to settle for all these toys before you had me?”
“Yeah, I did, princess. Had to fuck a plastic pussy before I found the perfect girl to fuckin’ ruin.” Matty chokes out, his words sending a gush of arousal flooding between your legs. “Fuck, feels s’much better when you do it, baby. My best girl, always takin’ such good care of me,” he moans, hips rolling up into your hand.
One of your hands dips into your panties, arousal dripping against your fingers as you rub slow circles into your clit. Whining, you stroke him faster, his rhythmic gasps and whines speeding. Your gaze is fixated on his cock as it disappears into the toy, slick, wet sounds mixing with your moans in the sex-thick air between you. “God, I fuckin’ love seeing you like this. Love when you get all needy f’me, Daddy,” you moan, grinding down against your hand.
Matty’s whines pitch up, pathetically desperate as he chases his release. “‘M gettin’ close, princess, fuck,” he gasps, his thighs trembling. He looks more gorgeous than you’ve ever seen him, flushed red and shaking, sweat-damp curls sticking to his forehead. He’s a fucking vision, and you can’t resist torturing him a little longer.
“Hold it for me, just a little while longer, ‘kay, Daddy?” He whimpers in protest, hips rolling wantonly, all pretence of rhythm long abandoned. “Don’t you wanna be a good boy for me? ‘M always so good for you.” He musters up a scoff, and you fix him with a glare that makes him press his lips together, subdued. “I deserve it, don’t I?”
“Yeah, princess. You do. ‘M gonna be good, promise,” Matty says, face scrunching with effort as you pump his cock at an almost punishing pace. His breath comes in short, sharp gasps, near-pained.
You tease him a little longer, his sweet, desperate moans falling straight to your core. Matty practically fucking pouts when you pull the toy off, and you scoff disparagingly. “Don’t be a brat. Was gonna let you finish in my mouth, but you can have this fuckin’ plastic back, if you prefer.”
“F-fuck, nonono, ‘m sorry, baby. Wanna cum in your pretty mouth.”
“You wanna, huh?” You click your tongue as he nods, whining and grasping at you. “How bad?”
“So fuckin’ bad, princess. God, I fuckin’ need it, fuck! Please, baby. Let me cum, wanna cum f’you,” Matty gasps, knuckles turning white as his hands fist in the sheets.
You frown, toying with the idea of denying him, revenging yourself for earlier, but he’s trying so hard to be good that you can’t bring yourself to. “Such a slut, Daddy,” you pout. “Gettin’ all dumb for me, huh?” He nods, another whimpered please falling unconsciously from his lips. “C’mon, say it. Say it, and I’ll let you cum, okay?” 
Leaning down, you press a kiss to his tip, licking the salt of him off your lips. “‘M a slut f’you, baby,” he slurs out. “Only you. My fucking girl.”
“Good boy,” you praise softly, taking Matty’s cock in your mouth and swallowing around him. He fists a hand in your hair, gasping and babbling praise as you bob your head, moaning around him. His choked gasp is the only warning you get before he’s spilling in your mouth, pulsing down your throat as you swallow greedily. Pulling off him with a groan, you sit back on your heels. “Taste so fucking good, Daddy,” you murmur, trailing your hand down his cheek with a smile. He grasps at you, taking greedy handfuls of your skin as he tugs you to him. Settling next to him, you grab his jaw and pull him into a slow, indulgent kiss, pressing the taste of him into his mouth as his lips press insistently against yours.
“Felt so fucking good, princess. Thank you s’much,” Matty murmurs, pressing close to you, his skin hot and sweat-slick against yours.
You laugh, carding a hand through his damp, messy curls, Matty unconsciously stretching up into the touch. “Oh, baby,” you croon. “I’m not done with you yet,” you smirk, and he shudders. “C’mon, lay back for me, Daddy. Want your mouth.”
He obeys, laying back as you straddle his face unashamedly. You’re soaked, dripping on his tongue, grinding down with a low whine. Pleasure licks up your spine as Matty devours you, nails digging into your thighs with eagerness. Your cunt clenches, already close to the edge just from the state of him, moaning helplessly between your thighs. “God,” you say, whining when Matty curls his tongue perfectly, heat throbbing in your core. “Love havin’ you as my fucktoy for a change.” His cock twitches at your words, and you chuckle softly. “Oh, you like that, Daddy? You like hearing what’s good little toy you are for me?” He sucks on your clit and you swallow a scream, blinding ecstasy spiralling through your limbs.
You lose your grip on reality the longer Matty tongue-fucks you, lapping at your soaked cunt with fervour. The burn in your thighs aches deliciously, mixing with the pleasure buzzing insistently in the base of your skull. His name tumbles from your lips, over and over as your awareness of anything else slips away. Your head is hazy, swimming in desire, Matty’s tongue swirling gloriously over your clit. “God, ‘m so fuckin’ close, Daddy,” you gasp, circling your hips faster as Matty dips his tongue back inside you. “Oh, my God,” you whine, pleasure coiled tight in your belly. He curls his tongue, mind-wiping pleasure sending you spiralling. You scream, ecstasy pooling in your belly and flooding out over Matty’s lips and chin as you moan and writhe helplessly on top of him. Molten pleasure hammers in your veins, your body loose on your bones as your hands tangle in the sheets.
“God, felt good,” you praise, climbing off him with a grin. “Love that pretty mouth of yours so much better when you’re not fuckin’ running it.” You pull him in for a kiss, greedily licking the taste of you out of his mouth. Indulgently, lazily, you kiss him for several long, blissful moments, Matty’s hands roaming over your body, electricity arcing under your skin to meet him.
“Thank you, baby,” he murmurs against your lips.  “Took such good care of me,” he smiles, flushing slightly and tucking his head into the crook of your neck. Gently, you scrape your nails over his scalp, Matty practically purring under your touch.
“Can you take a little more, Daddy? For me?” you murmur.
He lets out a shuddering breath. “Yeah. F’you,” he gasps, hips shifting against the bed. Lust and trepidation war on his face as you rifle through the box again.
“Good boy,” you praise, slicking up his cock and sliding the toy you’ve chosen down his cock until the ring sits at his base, the little vibrator snug against his length. “Have you ever used this with another girl, Daddy?” you tease, an echo of Matty’s usual words when you try something new.
“N-no,” he stammers, trembling with anticipation. “Only you, baby,” he promises.
You smirk, reaching down to switch on the vibrator. Matty gasps sharply, whining and whimpering pathetically as he shifts his hips against the stimulation. “Good answer,” you grin, lining up his cock and sinking down slowly. A long, low moan falls from your lips, the sensation unlike anything you’ve ever felt, pure pleasure rolling over you in waves. “God, s’like you’re my personal rabbit,” you gasp, grinding your clit against the vibrator and whining.
Matty’s nails dig into your hips, heat rolling up your spine. “Feels s’fucking good, baby, fuck,” he murmurs, bucking his hips against yours, the sweet jolt of pleasure intense as it rockets through your body. “God, s’so much, I can’t–” he gasps.
“Shh,” you whisper, condescendingly pressing a finger to his lips. “I’m gonna use you to get off, and you’re gonna lay there and take it like a good boy, okay, Daddy?” He gives a low, shuddering moan, nodding up at you with wide eyes and a slackened jaw. Slowly, you lift yourself almost all the way off him and slam your hips down, hot pleasure swallowing you whole. Your head tips back, chest heaving as you clench your cunt around him. Matty’s hips buck involuntarily, the sudden change in angle sending pleasure crashing over you.
Your head spins, the vibrations in your cunt working you into a frenzy, hips rolling against him. Obscene moans and slick, wet noises fill the room, your thighs burning gloriously as you bounce on him, heat welling between your legs and flooding your veins. Your body feels like a livewire, anchored to reality by Matty’s hands on your hips, dizzying ecstasy surging through every nerve at once.
Fire coils under your skin, your cunt soaked and dripping over him, your swollen, sensitive clit pressed against the vibrator as Matty gasps under you. “God, you feel so fucking good, princess,” he whines. “Drivin’ me crazy. Fucking– shit!” he hisses, fucking impossibly deep into you, stars shattering behind your lids and euphoria blooming under your skin.
“Fuck, Daddy, m’gonna–” you gasp, rocking your hips as liquid ecstasy drips down your spine. Matty thrusts into you one final time, the coil of heat between your thighs finally snapping. Your legs shake, your body caving in on itself, collapsing into pure bliss. Your vision whites out, whines and moans falling uncontrollably from your lips. A gush of arousal floods out of you, soaking Matty and pooling under you, sticky and hot against your skin.
“Fuck, shit, wanna cum s’bad, need it, baby, please,” Matty babbles, nails digging sharply into your hips as he shudders and bucks against you, whining incoherently. “Please, angel, it hurts,” he begs, eyes wide and pleading.
You croon softly, cunt fluttering with the aftershocks. “Yeah, go on, Daddy. Been such a good boy. Cum for me, okay?” Your words are all it takes, another achingly familiar reversal as he cums, a sound that’s half a cry of your name and half a keening moan tearing from his throat as he spills inside you.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, thank you,” he gasps, cock pulsing, hips meeting yours in aborted little thrusts.
Slowly, carefully, you climb off him and discard the toy, your body falling limp against the pillows. You pull Matty in for a soft, gentle kiss, pouring every ounce of the feeling in your chest against his mouth. “How… how was that?” you murmur as you pull back. “Are you feeling good?”
Matty gives a glowing smile, your chest warming at the sight. “I feel fucking amazing, princess,” he says, swollen lips meeting yours over and over, like he can’t resist. “Thank you, baby, really. I’ve never, uh… never done anything like that, um, with a girl, before. Felt really fucking good,” he grins dopily, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 
You giggle breathlessly. “Now you know how I feel all the fucking time.” You curl into him, savouring the warmth of his skin against yours. “Always take such good care of me after, too. S’my turn now,” you promise, kissing gently at the corner of his mouth and sitting up. “Gonna get you some water, ‘kay? Run us a bath, maybe light some candles, make it nice for you, yeah?”
Matty gazes at you adoringly from the bed as you stand. “Such a sweet girl,” he says, more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him, still and sated and happy, the buzz of energy that perpetually emanates from him finally quieted.
“Only for you.”
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ughgoaway · 2 days
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a/n; This is kind of half a blurb and half a fic?? Idk, it's just horny thoughts expanded tbh. now, this is NOT sanitary at all. PLEASE do not do this without thoroughly cleaning the shoe first. You are asking for a yeast infection and a UTI otherwise. But this is fiction, so let's all pretend he did a little sterilising beforehand! however, that's not hot to read, so im not gonna write it, but let's play pretend!! Thank you, ily <3
Content warnings; boot grinding, d-word, degradation, jealousy, bratty behaviour, dom matty, spit, swearing, and teasing. But I think thats it?? I'm so sorry if I'm missing some!
word count; 2.1k ish
(shout out to Kirke @nowshesdoingitallthetime for once again causing this. you are my fav little devil on my shoulder encouraging this behaviour...)
✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿
*click* *click* *click*
“Okay and now look to the left!” You hear the photographer shout. matty turns his head exactly as she asks. But apparently, it's not quite right, judging by how she walks over to him and poses his body.
you can feel the jealousy in every fucking nerve when her fingers graze the edge of Matty's jaw, adjusting his head half a centimetre. The move was so small it was completely unnoticeable to anyone else, but what was noticeable was the sly smirk on the photographer's face as her fingers lingered on Matty’s skin.
Your boyfriend remains completely oblivious, as he has been all day. You, however, noticed it as soon as you walked in together. You weren't planning on coming to play jealous girlfriend, you were prepared to be silently supportive.
But when she spent 40 minutes trying different outfits on Matty and showering him with compliments, you knew something was up. 
You studied her every move from then on. The way she “adjusted” Matty’s hair after almost every take, running her fingers through every strand in a way that had Matty practically purring.
You look at the way she pulls at his clothes, untucking and tucking in his shirt multiple times. and you also watch her eyes dart down to his exposed stomach every. fucking. Time. You swear you can almost see the cogs turning in her head when she catches a flash of the rose tattoo on his hip.
Every joke he makes, she laughs just a little too hard. Matty is funny, but making a shitty pun is not worthy of doubling over and acting like you're at a standup show. Yet, every vaguely funny comment he makes has her cackling and wiping tears that are streaming down her cheeks.
So you were fuming. Partially at her, Matty had introduced you as his girlfriend at the start of the session. Which had earned him an unimpressed hum from her and you a petty wave. she didn't seem to take too much notice of that fact, though, judging by the way she's stroking his cheek right now.
But you're also pissed at Matty for playing right into her hand. 
You knew he was egotistical, but the way he was practically turned into a giggling schoolgirl over the shoot drove you insane. His attention whore actions usually make you laugh, probably because they're normally aimed at you. as soon as you start rambling about how much you love him, matty becomes a child star, immediately glowing at the praise.
But it's remarkably less entertaining when he's lapping up the attention of a woman who is practically getting on her knees in front of you.
And maybe you took it too far, walking over to him mid-conversation and grabbing his face, pressing your lips onto his harshly, you take advantage of the gasp that leaves his lips to press your tongue into his mouth, licking inside and moaning excessively loud.
Matty pulls you off once his logical brain overtakes his horny one, but you can still see he's slightly dazed when he goes back to chatting with the photographer. The haze in his eyes and the pink flush on his cheeks take a few minutes to fully fade, especially when your hand slides onto his thigh and grips his skin possessively. 
You hang off his arm for the rest of the break and move closer to the set when they start up again. Every adjustment she suggests you swoop in and make before she can, punctuating each one with a peck on Matty’s lips and a glare her way.
Matty knows what you're doing, and after you lingered a little too long on one kiss, he pulls you in with a hand around the base of your neck.
You feel his breath on your ear before he starts talking, “I know what you're doing. Behave.”
You don't listen to his demands. Why should you when he's been gagging for every piece of attention this stranger gives him? So you play it up even more, determined to beat this woman at her game.
whilst you might win that war, you certainly don't win the one waging with matty judging by his tense shoulders and rolling eyes.
✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿
The ride home is full of tension, Matty's knuckles are white from how hard he's gripping the steering wheel, and the hand that usually lives on your thighs is firmly stuck on the gearstick.
You cant deny that the mix of his palpable anger now and how fucking good he looked at the photo shoot had riled you up. Every tick of his jaw makes your thighs tighten. And you swear you see a smile cross Matty's face as you cross and uncross your legs for the 20th time, desperate to relieve some pressure.
As soon as you get in the door, Matty is barking orders at you. 
“Follow me. And be quiet. You've done enough talking today.”  Any bratty behaviour left simmering inside you was gone. You trailed behind Matty silently, walking into the front room and starting to sit down on the sofa beside him.
“Nope, floor,” Matty says bluntly.
... no, he's joking. Surely.
“What?” you tilt your head at the man in front of you as you speak, assuming this is another one of his unfunny jokes (but you're sure the photographer would be fucking cackling at it.)
“You heard me, Don't play dumb now, baby. Kneel.” You don’t know whether it’s the intensity of his eyes or the assertiveness of his voice, but you do exactly as he asks. Sinking to your knees like you had done for him so many times before.
Your hands start to move to his fly instinctively, assuming you'd be apologising the only way you know how, letting Matty fuck your throat until you cant speak. But his hands smack yours away before you can even touch the denim of his jeans.
“Thats not gonna cut it today, baby. i need a proper apology this time.” Matty's foot slides between your legs, his boot sitting between your thighs as you hover just above it.
“I want you to grind on my boot, sweet girl. Put on a proper show for me, yeah?” Matty nods at you, and you don't even think before immediately nodding back, sinking down on his boot below you. in your mind, you know you should be scoffing at him and rolling your eyes, but your body moves without you telling it to.
You can already feel wetness pooling in your panties, throbbing at the idea of being so powerless under him. You gasp as soon as the cool leather of the boot touches your core, goosebumps blooming over your skin.
Your hips start rutting against the leather, sliding your hands around Matty's calf as you experimentally grind down on his shoe. Matty feels your fingers tighten around his leg as you clit brushes agaisnt the leather, the slight scratch of the boot making your head spin.
You rock your hips dumbly against Matty's shoe, arching your back when it brushes harshly over your bundle of nerves. Your ruby red nails dig into Matty’s leg through his jeans as you cling to him desperately.
One of your hands slides behind you so you can rock your hips even deeper on his boot, laying your palm flat the ground and canting your hips up desperately. Your thighs burn with every rock you make, but the burn in your core is stronger than anything else.
“thats it. now stick your tongue out, fuck. that's it angel,” Matty palms himself over his jeans as he stares down at you, groaning as he watches spit drip from your tongue and fall on the boot below, making every move you make slicker and more dizzying.
Matty looks pretty fucked out for someone who hasn't been touched, a thin sheen of sweat sits on his skin, his dick straining in his jeans as he watches you like a hawk. He studies your every movement like he is watching a cinematic masterpiece, taking in every move you make and committing it to memory. 
His jaw clenches as he fights every urge in his body to grab you by the hair and pull under him. Visions cross his mind of him jackhammering his hips inside you until you're screaming his name, watching the bluge in your stomach as he pumps fucking every inch of himself inside you. But he stays strong, keeping his eyes trained on you with every move you make.
“Thats it, shine my boots with your cunt. Good girl” Your eyes roll into the back of your head as Matty drags out his words and pushes his boot up, the pressure against your clit making the world around you fall into a haze. 
A flush covers your cheeks and chest, and Matty smirks at how blissed out you look.
Fucking you dumb is something that will never fail to amaze him, watching a smart girl become a babbling mess because of him does wonders for his ever-growing ego. It's not like he needed the boost, but your brain melted out of your ears as soon as he starts talking to you like he owned you.
You can't help but squirm as you start moving closer towards the edge, the pressure building inside you slowly becoming too much. Whimpers and whines fall from your lips as your hips speed up, pleading with Matty to let you cum without saying it. Luckily, Matty has seen you fall apart under him enough times to know exactly what you're asking.
“You getting close, baby?” Matty smirks as he speaks, “‘course you are. Filthy girl wants to cum all over daddy's boots.” your jaw drops at the nickname, and you nod as best you can, whimpering with every circle of your hips. 
“Beg." he demands
"Tell me you're fucking sorry and beg to cum,” Matty's jaw drops when he sees tears start falling down your face, desperation filling your every nerve. Soon, you're sobbing and begging Matty for mercy, your hips bucking wildly.
“Please. I’m so- fuck- im so sorry, Daddy. Please let me cum, ill be so good, I promise. Just- ah! let me cum. Please.” Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you fight to hold in your orgasm, but every rut of your hips is making pushing you closer.
“So good for me, such a dirty slut. Okay, angel, cum for me.” As soon as the words leave Matty’s lips, your cumming, the rubber band inside you snapping.
White spots dance across your vision as you push even harder down on Matty’s boot, letting the tough leather push you through your orgasm with every circle of your hips. Your chest heaves, and your jaw shakes as your orgasm drags on, intense pleasure wracking your every nerve.
Your thighs grip tightly around his boot as you reach your peak, but soon enough they're going lax, your hips slowing down until you’re motionless sitting on Matty's shoe, panting wildly and fighting to catch your breath. His fingers move from his lap and grip your chin, forcing you to stare at him as he speaks.
“Don't leave a mess. clean it up for me baby, be a good girl.” Matty nods at his boot, looking at you expectantly with a sick smile covering his face.
You sink further down on the floor below you, ignoring the way the cold concrete scratches your knees as you slide. Dark brown eyes meet yours as you hold eye contact with Matty. staring up at his as you stick your tongue out, and start to lick the leather covered in your slick. An exaggerated moan falls from your lips at the taste, and Matty’s jaw drops as he watches your tongue lap at his shoe.
After a few more seconds of you swiping your tongue over the leather, Matty is dragging you into his lap, gripping your hips harshly as you settle on top of him. He can't help smirking as you hover over him. Your cheeks are pink as you stare at him. The same pretty pink covers your lips. undoubtedly from desperately bitting at them to try and dampen your needy whimpers.
“Don't be so selfish now, princess, give daddy a taste,” you smirk at Matty before gripping his jaw, watching in awe as his mouth drops open and his tongue falls out.
Power skitters up your spine as you lean forward and let a drop of spit fall from your bottom lip, watching it drip and fall onto your boyfriend's tongue. A grin immediately pulls at your lips when you hear the groan that is ripped from his chest. 
As soon as Matty tastes the mix of your slick and spit, he's dragging you deeper into his lap, forcing his tongue in your mouth to desperately lick every trace of your release from the inside of your mouth.
Needy hands grip each other's skin, groping every piece you can get your hands on. Eventually, Matty pulls away from your lips, his eyes dropping to watch a string of spit spread between you. His head falls back against the sofa behind him, staring at you in awe.
“I'm booking another photo shoot with her,” he teases, his chest heaving as he desperately sucks in air to his lungs.
“The fuck you are.” You surge forward and capture his lips again, smiling as you feel his lips turn up as soon as your skin touches his. 
120 notes · View notes
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pov: just a slow morning waking up next to matty
because we all need a little pick me up in the am. another quick blurb.
warning: 18+, smut, but what else is new. grammatical errors, typos.
other bf matty blurbs & rambles here.
you have to admit. one of your favourite things about matty staying the night is waking up next to him, but again, who wouldn’t like waking up being held close by the beautiful, curly haired man who madly worships you? yeah… when you lazily open your eyes and your mind starts to slowly work, you notice how he’s deliciously pressed against your back. his left arm is draped over your navel and legs are all a tangled mess, his forehead resting on the back of your neck where you feel his gentle breath escape his lips. the lack of clothes reminds you of the lewd activities from the previous night, making you giggle as you clench your thighs around his leg that rests between yours. you intertwine your fingers with his hand holding your stomach and use it as leverage to ever so slowly and deliciously start grinding against him. you continue barely rocking your hips back n forth on him, feeling yourself getting more wet by the second. a small part of you says you shouldn’t be doing this, but that’s quickly forgotten as you feel his hardening cock against you. good. you’re pleasing matty even while he continues to snooze away. your sweet boy deserves it. minutes pass and you’re surprised you’ve been able to keep the gentle pace given how desperate you are now to feel him slip inside you. we have all the time in the world though, it’s okay. but that doesn’t stop you from slowly taking your intertwined hands, placing them over your now drenched cunt. you guide his hand so his palm is pressed against you, your swollen clit ever so slightly rubbing along one of his fingers as you continue to move your hips. your bottom lip is now sore from the pressure of your teeth as you try your best to remain quiet so he can continue sleeping. but it’s not even a minute later when you start feeling his body squirm, tiny whimpers leaving his mouth as his movements grow in synch with yours. you feel his lips lazily kiss your shoulders and finally his finger starts to rub small circles against you, the permission you needed to quicken your pace and find the relief you’d been searching for.
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lottiecrabie · 4 months
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anatomy – matty healy
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matty is supposed to tutor you in biology, but there’s another subject you’re much more interested in…
or tutor!au <3
tags: 18+, oral sex, unprotected sex, dry humping, dom/sub undertones, choking, cumplay, virgin!matty, freaky little loser guy
6802 words
You sit on top of the sheets of your bed, ankles crossed. You pop your bubblegum, flipping boredly through your Cosmo. Lipsticks, perfectly preened women, and the top ten sex tips flip in front of your eyes. You halt at the horoscope, indulgently checking yours. You’re not superstitious: it’s just that anything is better than this godforsaken lesson. 
“And, you see, the specific shape of the active site of an enzyme enables it to function,” Matty drawls on, unfaltered by your clear disinterest. Maybe he doesn’t see; his nose is pulled tightly in his book. “It’s— It’s really a simple understanding of 'lock and key'. You can think of enzyme activity as molecular collisions resulting in the formation of enzyme-substrate complexes.” All the terms blur together in your mind. In one ear, transformed and decorated by the pretty pink things on your page, then out the other. 
You almost feel bad for Matty, pushed into your room by your parents with pleading, desperate eyes to make you learn something. He sits at your desk while you distract yourself with whatever is more interesting which, as it so happens, is almost everything. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t say much to you other than hey and a string of jargon you don’t care to understand. It’s not like your bitchy, unimpressed stare is very welcoming. 
Matty has this nervous, twitchy energy about him. He stutters through half of his sentences, pushing his glasses up his nose, searching for the fixed point in his book he lost. He swallows thickly, starts again. An awkward, limby thing. 
Really, it’s a shame he wears all those nerdy shirts and drowning clothes, as well as those horrendous thick, square glasses. If you assess him objectively enough, he could be quite pretty. He’s lean, with a cutting jaw, and adorable curly hair. Girls would look away a flutter of red flags if it meant birthing kids with those traits. 
You sigh, pushing the Cosmo off your bed, rolling to your belly. You rest your chin on your crossed arms, eyeing Matty. He gives you a look at the shifting noise, rounding his eyes as they fall on the stripe of skin your loose lounging shorts have revealed in the crossfire. It’s barely a few centimeters of your asscheeks, but Matty blushes all the same, flipping back to his book as though burned. You smirk. Interesting.
“Matty,” you trail lightly, the cadence of a song. 
You found your bright new, shining distraction. Your smile is vicious and dangerous, ready to bite, to gnaw to the bone. 
Matty looks up at you, incertain. You rarely address him during your tutoring lessons. You’re not even sure you’ve said his name before, at least not to him. “I’m bored with biology,” you declare, artfully pouty and dejected. 
“Oh,” he says. He swallows thickly. Flips through his book. His nervous tics make him all the more tantalizing to you. Some cruel need to toughen him up. “Um—”
You lick your teeth, grinning. “I want to study anatomy.”
Matty laughs, pushing his glasses up his nose. “That’s not in the syllabus.” There’s something about his total misunderstanding of your line that makes the need frizzle inside of you. An innocent little thing, to pick and devour through. 
You sit up, resting your weight on your heels. Your knees part suggestively, the loose shorts riding up your thighs. Your crop top sits up your ribs. Belly button piercing winks at him. Matty takes in the sight, face pale. You grin, victorious.  
“I didn’t mean that anatomy,” you say, teasing. You rest a hand loosely on your leg, purposefully dragging his stare down to it. Your pink nails flash against your skin. 
“Oh.” He swallows thickly, hypnotized by the soft flesh of your thighs. “I—” He shakes his head, as if to draw himself out of the daydream. “I, um—” He repeats, then laughs, “What?”
You sigh, kneeling up and getting off the bed. Your bare feet wiggle in the fuzzy, pink carpet. You prowl to him, predator-like. His breath hitches in his throat, right where you want it. 
“Matty,” you sing, and he chokes at the sound. Just his name drives him wild— good to know. You get close enough to lean on the desk, to tower over him. He blinks up at you, robbed of speech. You flutter your eyelashes at him. “Are you a virgin?” 
His lips part in surprise, but he doesn’t answer. Not that he needs to; the fucking sight of him is enough to know. It’s about the fun of watching him stumble, stutter, push his little glasses up his nose, telltale signs you revel in. 
You sit on the desk, bunching his careful notes. You trail two fingers up his shoulder, that awful cheap plaid. You almost resent the feel of it on your skin, if not for the way he shivers. 
You pout mockingly at him, stopping where the collar of his shirt meets the skin of his neck. “Are you gonna answer me?” 
“Yeah— yes.” You run your fingertips on his neck, a grazing touch that has him staring up at you in devotion. You smirk. 
“Have you ever been touched like this?” You run your thumb to the other side of his neck, a strong path. You want him to feel it, until your hand stretches over his throat, possessive. 
He swallows under your palm, Adam’s apple bobbing on your fortune-telling palm lines. “No,” he admits quietly. You feel it resonate more than you hear it. 
You hum, silently thrilled. “And have you ever been kissed?” You whisper. 
Matty stares up at you. He waits a second, two— takes his time. “No.” You smirk. You pick your gum between two fingers, pressing it into the corner of his notes. Perfect. 
It’s a little awkward, of course, because you’re perched on the desk and he’s sitting all the way down on his chair, gripping its arms. But, still, you bend down and kiss him square on the mouth. 
He gasps against you, freezing there. You’re undeterred; you kiss and kiss him, smearing your strawberry lipgloss, until he snaps into action and kisses you back. It’s a rhythmless, artless thing.
He doesn’t know how to kiss. 
What he lacks in technique, he makes up in eagerness, opening his mouth and licking a wet tongue into yours. You giggle a little, taste the Sour Patch kids he nervously ate from his bag between two scientific words you purposefully didn’t remember. You press at his throat, just so he’s as breathless as you are. He moans against your lips, panting. 
Matty doesn’t dare touch. His body is fixed to the desk chair, letting himself be kissed, taking only what you are willing to offer. He sits there like you are breathing life into his mouth, eating and eating and never asking for more. It’s what makes you want to give him more. 
You pull away from him, straightening like a queen taking her throne. Under you, the pages wrinkle and ruffle, and he doesn’t even care. His lips are swollen and pink, shiny from the lipgloss. Breaths puff out from there, pulling attention. 
“You’re kinda pretty,” you admit lowly, like a secret he should know. 
“Thanks,” Matty flushes. 
You release his throat, wiping your pink gloss off his lips. They part instinctively. You smile, slipping your thumb inside. He sucks the strawberry, warm tongue on your fingerprint. Power loosens your head.
“Do you want me?” You ask, as though his mouth drooling around your thumb wasn’t indication enough. You want the words; you want the worship. 
“Yeth,” he says, choking on your finger. You smile, taking it out and drying it on his cheek.
You don’t make a big show of taking your shirt off. Your hands are at the hem of your baby tee, then it’s off your shoulders, thrown on the pink carpet. Matty whines, surprised and overwhelmed, throwing a furtive glance at the cracked door of your bedroom. 
“It’s okay,” you whisper, taking his hand. Soft and weak; he hasn’t worked a day in his life. It’s slack between your fingers. He lets you puppeteer it to your breasts, lets you grope yourself with him as an instrument. 
He makes another small noise from the back of his throat, staring at the fucking sight like he can’t quite believe it truly is his own hand. “God,” he mutters to himself, and it’s exactly how you feel. 
“Say thank you,” you taunt him, because you know he will. 
Like clockwork, Matty revels, “Thank you.” Growing bold, he rubs a thumb over your hard nipple, a tough callus you didn’t expect on the tip of it. It makes you moan; a crack in your spotless armor, but he doesn’t even notice. Too preoccupied with playing with your tits, pawing at it greedily. 
“Can I—” He flushes, shaking his head. 
“What?”
“Can I lick them?” A drop of heat strikes through you. You clench your thighs, arching your back into his readied palm. 
“Yes.” He leans in before you’ve finished the s, sucking your abandoned nipple into his mouth. He licks and rubs and pinches, raw skill pulling at your sensitive skin. You bite back groans, breathing harshly. Your chest rises and falls into his mouth, but he’s just as diligent. 
You rake a long-nailed hand into his hair, scratching his scalp with every particularly delicious lick. He moans at that, vibrating on your sensitive nipples. 
He sticks his tongue out, panting like a dog, dipping down to the valley of your tits and pressing a kiss, then climbing up a new breast. He bites gently, and you jump, surprised by his boldness. 
“Sorry,” he whispers. You don’t like this little switch-up in power. He’s supposed to be purring for you, enthrallment shining in his eyes. You tug on his hair, making him look at you. 
Matty stares up, dutiful. He doesn’t care about the power game; hasn’t even realized you were slipping. He takes what you give. 
You soothe away the sting of his hair. “Pretty boy,” you coo. Matty beams at that. “I want to hear you scream.”
With this, you jump off the desk, and kneel under it. 
“Oh,” Matty says, eyes wide as he watches you fumble with his pants. You unbutton and unzip, fast and knowledgeable, dipping into his boxers— “Wait.”
You look up at him, inches from your goal. You cock your head, frowning. “What?”
“Just—” He pants, staring at you. “Just give me a second.”
You hum, grazing a finger on the faint happy trail of his stomach. His belly sucks in. “Are you nervous?”
“No,” he says. “Yes. I don’t know.” He laughs. His hands still grip the armrests, white-knuckled. “Why are you doing this?” 
You shrug. “I want to.” You tip your head, kissing his soft hand. “Do you want me to?” 
“Well, yeah.”
You grin. “Relax.” Finally, your hand slips under his underwear, and you wrap around his hard length. He gasps, cold fingers against hot skin, fingers against him. 
His hips jump into your fist as you draw him out. Another nervous glance to the door, still half-opened. Your parents are somewhere in the house, pretending not to exist. You lick your lips.
You lightly scratch your pink nails against him. You run a thumb on his tip, smearing precum. He hisses, turning into a moan as you slowly drag your hand down. He’s frozen and tense, almost afraid of moving, as if that would make you go away. 
“Teach me,” you say. 
He blinks at you, dazed. “Huh?” 
Your eyes vaguely look up to the desk you hide under, biology notes in his scratchy writing laying wrinkled. “Biology. My parents are paying you for a reason, aren’t they?” 
“Oh—” He flushes, embarrassed. Pushes his glasses up. “Right, right.” His hands let go of the armrests, searching through the pages. You choose this moment to kiss the tip of his cock. He whimpers, shutting his eyes in pleasure. “Fuck.” You giggle, all too happy. 
He struggles to find where you disturbed him, biting his lip in comical concentration. You tease him, enjoying all the little breaths he chokes on, the soft sounds he tries to hide. Your hand pumps up and down, twisting at the wrist. 
You wonder how often he’s done this on himself, who he imagined between his legs. 
From now, it’ll be you. You’ll make sure of it. 
“Um, right, so,” Matty starts, out of breath. “In some reactions,” he continues arduously, “one substrate is broken down into multiple products. And—” Devilishly, you lick a stripe up his length. He groans, twitching on your tongue. “Shit,” he mutters. It’s funny coming from him; the swear rings wrong, like a costume. 
He drags his stare down, pulling away from his notes to watch you. You indulge him, parting your lips and wrapping them around his tip. You suck on it gently. His face wrinkles, a moan breaking from him. You pull your head down, swallowing him. He clutches at his papers, scrunching them himself. 
“Oh, God,” Matty says, trying to catch his breath as you bob your head. “I’m— Shit.” 
You let go of him with a wet pop, stroking him quickly. “Shh,” you tease him. “My parents.” Again, he throws a nervous look towards the door. 
Saliva and lipgloss and precum already lube him, but you keep your hand at his base as you spit on his cock. You drag it down his length. Matty’s eyes snap towards you. “Do that again.” He wants to see you.
You smirk, tilting your head to leave wet kisses up his cock, then lick his tip. You spit on it, and a low groan resonates from him. His hips rise up into your hand, but you push them down with your claws. 
“Fuck,” he whimpers from the back of his throat, melting on the chair. He likes it messy. You grin, peppering little kisses over his cock, smearing him in strawberry lipgloss. 
“What’s the other thing?” 
“Huh?” He blinks, tying himself back to reality. “Right, um, substrates. It’s—” Again, you choose this moment to push him down your throat. He loses speech, mumbling incoherent syllables, some broken version of your name. 
Though your head bobs quickly, pulling further and further down his length, twisting a stroking hand all the same, you pinch your nails at his hip. He jumps, struck out of the daze of pleasure, blinking down at you. 
“Yeah, it’s— The other reactions are—” You let go of his hip, pinching your own nipple instead. Matty whines, losing his train of thought. “You’re not being fair.”
You laugh, spitting him out to catch your breath. You grope yourself and he watches, not sure which hand to focus on. His cheeks are tinted red, maybe from effort, or adrenaline, or shyness. It’s cute enough to bite. 
Wonder shines in his eyes. He can’t believe this is happening; he’s eternally grateful, as he should be. As they all should have been, those faceless men you’ve blown in the bathrooms of parties for attention and a momentary stop to complete boredom. They stayed quiet, almost afraid to make noise, to show they enjoyed it, until they shook and spilled inside your mouth. Matty’s not afraid to moan. 
Your brain rushes, sticky happy. You pant on his cock, trailing a finger down your stomach, then dipping in your shorts. Matty’s eyes widen, straightening to catch a glimpse. You smile, catching a pool of your arousal. 
You come back up, fingers sticky and wet with your slick, and smear it on his cock. Matty scrunches his face, whimpering, shaking under your hands. 
“You’re trying to kill me.”
“Only because it’s easy,” you mock, jerking and twisting your two hands in rhythm, wet sounds ringing in the room. 
You free his cock, gripping the armrests of the chair instead. You wrap your mouth around it, and bend down until your nose touches the faint smatterings of dark hair on his belly. You gag on him, and he strangles the edge of the desk trying to kill his moans. 
You pump him in your mouth quickly, feeling him twitch and rise to meet you. He remembers himself, falling down on the chair dutifully, not even burying a needy hand in your hair, as though afraid that would be asking for too much. 
You drag up, making him hit the inside of your cheek, before releasing him. You spit the precum on him, blinking up through teary eyes. He doesn’t have any words, red swollen lip bitten raw. 
“I taste great,” you say, and then offer up your still-wet fingers to him. He’s eager, sucking them into his mouth. He bobs, imitating you, and the sight and feel makes hot desire drip inside of you. 
You want to squeeze him until he pops. 
You take his hand, pulling it into your hair. He grips instinctively, pushing it out of your face. “Don’t push,” you warn, serious. He nods frantically, and you trust him to mean it. 
You take him into your mouth for what you know is the final time. You’re certain he won’t last long, droopy and moaning and twitching, hissing every time your tongue runs on him. You bob with skill and precision still. He tugs at your hair, both hands in now, trembling in the mess of it. He never pushes, or fucks his hips up; trusts you to undo him yourself. 
He swears and curses and whimpers, head falling down and back, vacillating between the sky and your red, puffy face. The sink is heard from faraway, but you don’t think he can even hear it. 
“I'm dreaming,” he whispers to himself, sounding wild. “I’m gonna wake up. I’m gonna be— I’m gonna—” Matty cries, slapping a hand over his mouth, and comes down your throat. He shakes, loud moans hidden in his palm, eyes shut and forehead wrinkled. 
He lets go of your hair with a fucked-out sigh, panting. His eyes never leave you, disbelief written all over it. You pull him out of your throat, and smile at him. 
You’re about to swallow when he touches your arm, unsure of where he’s allowed to now. “Wait, can you—” He grows embarrassed, blushing. “Can you open your mouth?”
You part your lips, showing off his white cum still sitting on your tongue. He whimpers at the sight, fingers digging into your arm. His breathing turns irregular, cheeks reddening, eyes darkening. He’s so strange. 
Still, you stick your tongue out, putting his load in evidence, making a spectacle of it. He looks tortured, enthralled. 
You stay long enough that you feel it run down, long white rope hanging from your tongue, then dropping on your breast. 
“Fuck,” Matty whispers to himself. Seemingly without thinking, he runs his thumb on your breast, catching his cum and sucking it between his lips. 
You smile, slurping the cum back into your mouth, and swallowing it. You flash your red tongue at him. “All clean.”
“Thank you,” Matty says. “I— I’m not sure why you did that, but— I, you know, appreciate it.” He’s so polite. You’d laugh if he wouldn’t snap back into that little head box of his. 
“I’m very thankful for all those lessons,” you wink.
“No, you’re not.” 
“No, I’m not.” Matty’s finger rubs the skin of your arm, that strangely tough callus, and it has you leaning into his touch. “Though, this has been my favorite lesson.” 
“God, I couldn’t even get a word out.”
“Hence why.”
Matty snorts and he offers you a hand. You grab it to manœuvre out from under the desk. You push your sweaty hair out of your face, then wipe the leftover stickiness from your breasts. 
Matty, of course, follows the movement to your tits. He swallows. “Do you, um,” he pushes his glasses up. “Do you want, like, something back?” 
You arch an eyebrow, incapable of holding a small giggle this time. “Do you know how?”
He stares into your eyes. “I could try.”
And, again, there’s just something about his eagerness, his willingness, his open devotion, that has you saying, “Yeah, I guess you could try.”
You tiptoe to your bedroom door, looking left and right into the hallway, before quietly shutting it. You turn around to a displeased Matty. “Oh, so you get to have it closed?” 
“‘S more fun when you’re struggling,” you shrug, devilish. You run to the bed, falling on the pillows, fluttering your eyelashes at him. “Come here, pretty boy.” He practically trips out of his chair to find you. He’s three steps in when you stop him. “Take your clothes off.”
He grows shy under your gaze. Staying in place, fingers shaking, he starts to unbutton his plaid shirt. He kicks off his sneakers and his baggy jeans until he stands there in his boxers. He’s as scrawny as you imagined him to be. You smile. 
Matty crosses his arms. “Can I see you, too?” He whispers.
You shimmy your shorts off your legs and throw it beyond the bed. Matty’s stare stutters on your pink thong, wet patch where your desire pooled. 
You draw a hand towards him and he takes it, falling over you on the bed. He doesn’t waste time, giving you a sloppy kiss before mouthing at your neck, your collarbones, your tits. He laps at them first and you wonder if he’s trying to get the last lingering taste of his cum. He catches a nipple next and sucks it. 
Gaspy moans leave your lips. You part your legs instinctively and he buries between them, already hardening. His cock hits your thigh and he sucks and pinches and plays until you start thinking he might really be able to try. 
Your hands descend down his back, freckled under your nails. You grip his small waist, pushing at his hip, the hem of his boxers. Matty understands, leaving you long enough to kick them off. He pants in front of you, leaning back already, wet, swollen mouth parted. 
Matty lays over you again and his hard cock presses into your need. You scratch your nails up his back and he jerks, bucking into you. A moan leaves both your mouths. He tries again, artless, just off your clit. 
“Oh,” he whispers, mostly to himself. He does it again, building and building heat inside of you, yet never relieving. 
You huff. You sneak a hand between your bodies, moving your thong aside until he slips under it. 
Another boy would have taken the opportunity, would have buried inside before you even had time to nod, but Matty doesn’t even think of it. 
He humps your wet cunt, tucked tight under your underwear, hem pressing his length. Matty moans every time, quickening, desperate. He tilts his hand to better see as his cock bulges the cloth, a wet patch forming where his precum stains. 
“Fuck.”
And it’s better; he’s faster, and firmer, and mostly there. He follows your little puffs of shameful breaths, staying where they transform into slack moans. Pleasure starts waking up inside your belly, sickly warm. 
But you’ve had boys hump at you before, had them bucking between your legs. You know it’s not what will get you off. You need your mind stimulated, to be so thoroughly hot and desperate you finally let yourself go. 
You pinch the nape of his neck, making him look at you. A slack, messy smirk lays on your lips. You tease, “Have you ever thought of me during our tutoring sessions?” 
Matty’s hips stutter. He looks away. “Like…”
“Yeah, like, on my knees.”
Matty blushes. “Well, yeah.” 
You grin, too pleased. A deadly smile, hunting. “When?”
“I don’t know…” He mutters. You scowl to yourself, and maybe he senses that, because his chin grazes your shoulder and he admits shamefully, “When you ate that popsicle. And you licked and you slurped and you sucked and, just— I’m a guy. I had visions.” 
“I had visions.��� You imitate, mocking. You tsk, “You're such a nerd.” You roll your hips back against him and a whimper buries in the skin of your shoulder. “Was it how you imagined?”
“Better.” He nods fervently. “So much fucking better. I actually died, I think. Still unsure whether I’m dead or not.” Pride and power makes your head loose, makes pleasure ripple through your flesh. 
You claw at his skin, warning dangerously, “Tell anyone and you will be.” All it does is make him moan, bucking faster against you. Your toes curl. You breathe in his ear, “Tell me more.” 
“I, uh— Shit.” The tip of his cock burrows in your underwear as he slides, wet and slick from you. He shivers over you. “I’d think about— bending you over the desk.” 
Your smile ghosts your face, grazing his soft, fresh cheek. “Really?”
“Just, you know, when you wouldn’t listen. And you’d pop that chewing gum, and you’d ignore me, and you’d be mean.”
You smirk, clicking your tongue. “So you wanted to, what, toughen me up? Take your revenge?”
His cheeks redden. “No.” His lips brush your shoulders, and he kisses, opposite. “I don’t know. I wanted you to pay attention.” He licks your neck. “I wanted to make you scream.” Mouths at your jaw. “I wanted to fuck you. Or for you to fuck me— I wanted you.”
You can’t believe you’re now the one blushing. You pant, glad he’s buried in your throat, that he can’t see. A moan slips from you as he nips gently at your skin. Your eyes roll in your skull. 
“You like when I’m mean to you?” You tease meanly, out of breath. You scratch his back, burying your hand in his hair, and tugging until he looks you in the eyes. “Gets you all bothered?” 
Matty shivers, whining, “Fuck, please—” 
You push him onto his back, rolling over. Two hands press into his chest, and you might very well concave his ribcage. You stare him down, divine. “You wanted me to fuck you?” 
His messy, unbrushed hair falls around his head like a halo. He’s sweet enough to make your head spin. He watches you openly behind the glass of his specs, breathing, “Yes.”
You trail your fingernails on his hard cock, down to his base. “And now?”
Devoting, “Yes.”
A rush of thrill fills you. You kneel up, shimmying your underwear off. Matty gasps at the sight, raking a hungry gaze up and down your body. He holds the sheets of your bed with white-knuckled fingers. 
You waste no time, rocking your cunt against his tip once, twice, before slowly lowering yourself on him. You inhale at the stretch. Matty’s eyes shut, whining. “Look at me,” you order, and he listens. 
His eyes flash open. He blinks at you as you bottom out. His head rolls, shaking. “Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.” You go to move up, but he holds your hip down. He takes deep breaths. “Can we— Just, this is—”
“It’s okay,” you whisper, taking his hand and placing it over the regular beating of your heart. He thumbs your nipple while he’s there, breathing in sync with your pulse. You slowly roll your hips on him. 
Matty moans, gripping the flesh of your thigh. You let him adjust to the feel of it, rocking softly, dragging your clit on his pelvis. You bite your lip raw as pleasure blooms inside of you. Your thighs ache to go faster, harder, but you maintain the delicate pace for him. Just that has him shaking under you, and you once again grip his hand over your heart to ground him. 
“Sorry,” he says with an embarrassed laugh. “Fuck,” is immediately added when you circle your hips, his eyes rolling. “Fuck, sorry.”
“Stop apologizing,” you order. “What are the other reactions?” You say, attempting to drag him out of his anxiety-filled head. He frowns at you. “Of enzymes.”
His lips part. “I didn’t know you knew that term.” 
You roll your eyes, then your hips, euphoria fizzling under your skin. “I listen to you.” His unconvinced look betrays him. “Sometimes.”
“They’re, um— Shit. They come together to create one— fuck, one larger molecule or—” You finally rock faster, angling your hips to have him bury inside you right where you need him. You moan, chest rising and falling quickly. Your legs grow desperate; you chase that sickly pleasure. 
“Yeah?” You encourage him on, seeing his own pleasure resonate in his face. He bites his lip, pawing uselessly at your thigh. “Or?” You’re out of breath. 
“Or swap pieces,” he finally finishes between two moans. Chuckles, “Actually, pretty much all biological reactions you can think of probably—” Your hips fall harsher on him and he loses his train of thought, overwhelmed. You smile, setting a wild pace, completely unfair. 
“Probably what?” You say, teasing, “I’m always thinking about biological reactions.”
“Don’t tease,” he pouts, and you slow down your thrusts just to spite him. He whines, pressing his short fingernails into the skin of your thigh. 
“Come on.” You make him look you in the eyes, mocking, “Educate me.”
“They all have enzymes,” Matty finally finishes. You reward him by reaching down and pinching his nipple. He whimpers, cursing your name. “Why have you suddenly decided to be a good student?” 
“‘Cause you’re adorable when you’re struggling to find words,” you answer honestly. You hold your weight up on the hand pressed into his chest, angling your hips until your clit rubs and rubs his pelvis. Your eyes roll, fucking him quicker. “Fuck. I love when I can make you all stupid for me.” The power in changing up his DNA composition, making a smart boy incapable of remembering all the jargon you yourself don’t know, is addictive. Undoing him block by block until he’s putty in your hands. Matty just moans, not arguing. 
Sweat pearls his forehead. The white sheets make him angelic. He breathes your name, fluttering his eyelashes at you. “Can I try on top?” Maybe it’s because he looks so reverent, so innocent, that you nod. 
Matty doesn’t push you and roll you over, instead staying there, as though waiting for it to just magically happen. You giggle to yourself, unmounting him and falling back on the mattress, legs parted. He swallows thickly, laying over you. 
His glasses fall down his nose and you laugh, grabbing them and carefully placing them on your nightstand. He blinks, adjusting to the blurry sight. 
His hand shakes as he grabs himself and lines up. He misses once, twice, until you rest a soothing hand on his and guide him. Matty moans in your hair as he slides in. He stays in your wet heat for a second, catching his breath, before he thrusts. 
And it’s bad, of course. He doesn’t have any rhythm, bucking blindly inside of you. It’s a strange pace, irregular and powerless. He certainly can’t find any type of mindnumbing spot. Pleasure simmers lowly in your belly, heat turned off almost to nothing if it weren’t for the pretty moans that bury straight in your ear. 
You grab his hip, making Matty look at you. “Start slow,” you instruct, guiding him. He follows the movements of your hand, rocking back and forth, slow but regular. “There,” you nod, arching your back. “Just, tilt—” He repositions himself, eager to learn, and you shudder. You call his name, syrupy with moans. 
He’s a fast learner, following diligently the guidings of your gripping hand. He fucks into you slowly, but surely. Your toes curl. Pleasure wakes up again, coiling in your belly. “Like this?” He breathes. You nod, encouraging him on. 
“It’s like I’m tutoring you,” you remark, chuckling to yourself. Matty snorts. “I like being the smart one for once.”
Matty frowns. “You’re always smart.” He says it without thinking, because he means it. Something wet chokes your throat, tugs at your lips. “You just don’t listen.”
“Would you like me to?” You say, tone taunting. A self-destroying instinct, telling you to hurt, to ruin. “Make me your little pet? Be all obedient? Have me sucking your cock while you tell me all about biology?”
His eyebrows furrow. “Do you want me to do that?” All your bullets don’t land. He’s unconcerned on what he wants. You huff.
Instead of reckoning, you order, “Faster, now.” Matty nods against your cheek. He obeys, thrusting quicker. You let go of his hip, climbing up his back just to rake your nails down it. His hips snap faster, harsher, endeavored. You grin, licking his jaw, kissing the bone. 
“Fuck,” he whimpers, catching your lips and kissing you. You wrap your arms around his neck, trapping him there as he ruts between your legs. You swallow all the sounds he makes, kill the swears you think of saying. Euphoria washes you. 
He leaves your lips just to smack wet kisses over your face, again and again. On your forehead, your cheeks, your eyelids, your chin. He mouths down your throat, starts sucking and nipping at the side. You bury a hand into his hair, pushing him further down. “Not the neck,” you explain, breathy. 
Matty finds the side of your tits and he buries there, sucking at your skin. You arch into his mouth, pleasure rushing up your side at the pinpricks of pain. He moans against you, bucking faster. Your mind spins and spins. “Matty.” Again, he speeds up, harsh and wild. “Fucking hell, Matty.” 
You tug at his hair and he releases you, lips wet and swollen. He pants over you, eyes dazed with pleasure. A new wave of heat strikes you just from the sight of him, unmade and wild. You sneak a hand between your bodies. You find your clit easily, rubbing. 
Matty’s head drops to watch you. He whines, seeing where he disappears inside of you, over and over, where your pink nails swipe at you. 
He leans his weight on one arm, joining his own hand with yours. You’re surprised at the act, at the willingness of involving himself in the complicated business of your pleasure. Your fingers stop, resting up on your stomach. 
He paws blindly at your cunt, just a little off where you need him. You grip his wrist, angling him at the right place, gently circling and swiping with his finger. The callus presses on your clit and it’s a delicious sensation. You roll your eyes, crying out, then slapping your palm over your mouth. Matty grins proudly, continuing to rub at you. 
“This is good, right?” He whispers, pretty eyes all vulnerable on you. 
You nod frantically. “Yes. It’s good.” You melt on the sheets, parting your legs further. “It’s really good.” His cheeks flush at the compliment. You wrap your hand around his throat, resting there with silent ownership. “Did you ever think it’d be me?” 
Matty chokes on a laugh and a moan. “No. I never thought you’d ever even give me a look.” 
You hum, pleased with the answer. He realizes it’s a privilege. You grin, pressing your fingers on the sides of his neck. His hips stutter, then snap even faster, a broken cry leaving him. His lips part in quiet ecstasy. His eyes shut,  rapid movement behind his eyelids. 
You grin at him. “Say thank you, pretty boy.” 
You release him, at least giving him a chance. He falls into your shoulder, taking deep inhales, shaking. “Thank you,” he says, mumbly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You rake through his hair, soothing. “Aw, fuck, I’m gonna—” He twitches inside of you. 
“Not inside!” You shout. Matty gasps, thrusting out of you. He cries as he comes on your navel and cunt. He catches his breath, blinking himself back to this reality, still shaking. 
“Sorry,” he says, shortwinded. A pang of disappointment hits you. It’s not like you’ve ever come with someone else before, but it had felt really close this time. 
At least Matty tried. 
Matty watches his cum painted over your skin, catching your piercing, mixing with the slick of your cunt. He moans to himself, then bends down between your thighs. 
You rest on your elbows, frowning. “What—” He licks a stripe over your cunt, tasting both your juices. Euphoria strikes through you. Your back hits the mattress as you fall back, legs shaking. “Matty.” He hums, faraway, licking and licking to clean you all up. You bury a hand in his hair, grounding him in place. 
He finds your clit, rubbing it with the tip of his tongue, circling then sucking it. You jolt on the bed, biting back a scream. You frown to yourself, tugging on his hair, fire boiling inside your stomach. What the fuck. 
He laps at you, moaning every time your nails scratch his scalp, the sound vibrating against you. A hand wraps around your thigh, keeping you open for him. He devours you eagerly, hungrily, until you’re a mess melting into his mouth. 
“God, Matty,” you cry. You have to actually hold back another one with a slap of your hand, shocked at yourself as you scream into your palm. 
Matty stops, breathing harshly, and you throw a glance down in question. He climbs up your stomach, lapping at your skin, cleaning the last of his cum. You whimper at the dirty sight, desire drumming down your limbs. 
He throws you a hot look. Tongue out, full of white cum. He goes back between your legs and buries it in your cunt, fucking it in. You jump, cursing to the ceiling. Matty laughs, greedily tasting you. 
You roll your hips into his face, hitting the tip of his nose on your clit. Every strike has ecstasy resonating in your bones. You feel light on your bones. 
His lips wrap around your clit. He sucks, grazing a tongue, swiping and circling like you showed him. You recognize the same pattern, recognize the rhythm. Of course he’s a fast learner. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chant, choked by your hand. You raise your hips into his mouth, silently begging. Your legs shake, desperate. Pressure pushes at your belly. Your eyes roll. “Don’t stop.”
He mumbles something in your cunt, probably a promise or a praise, dutifully not stopping. He laps and eats and fucks until your brain melts into your skull, dripping down your spine. 
“Oh, fuck, I’m—” Your head shakes fervently. “Just stay— Shit, Matty, just— I—” The pressure snaps and you come on his readied tongue, screaming. Hot white flashes in your vision. Relief washes you, dipping to every crevices, relaxing you. He moans against your cunt. 
Matty continues to lick you, mission-bound, until your lungs are on fire and you physically push him away. He smiles up at you, chin sticky and wet and red. He wipes it, kneeling. 
“Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?” You say, shortwinded, shocked to your bones. You stare at him like he’s grown a second head. 
It’s the first time someone other than your knowing hand made you come. And it’s fucking Matty Healy. You blink at him. 
“What?” He laughs, falling beside you on the bed. 
You gesture vaguely downwards. “That.”
“Oh,” he blushes. Shrugs. “I don’t know. I researched it once.”
“You— Oh, my God.” You stare at the ceiling in disbelief. “Oh, my God. You’re such a nerd.”
Matty grins, cheekily proud. He gently grazes the bruise he left on your breast, the splotch of red that will darken, be a leftover trace of him. 
“Thanks,” he says simply. 
“You’re welcome.” You shift your legs, feeling the wetness still between them. “Thanks to you too, I guess.” He grins, hiding in the white pillows. 
He gives you a look. “Will you listen when I tutor you now?” 
You smirk mischievously. “Maybe if you have my fingers in your mouth.”
“Oh,” Matty says, eyes wide. “Will you— Will this happen again?”
You make a noncommittal shrug, though a more definite answer hums in your heart. “Maybe if you’re really good.” You smile to yourself. “Or really boring, and I need to shut you up.”
“You can shut me up any day.”
“I know.” You linger in that moment for just a second more, eyes locked together, smiles tickling your lips. Then you sit up, reaching for your underwear. “Session’s almost done.” 
Matty nods, lips thin. “Right.” He pats the nightstand for his glasses.  
You dress yourselves, wiping away sweat and cum, brushing wild strands. You give an awkward goodbye, incertain, and Matty slips from the room. You don’t follow him to the door. You never do. 
Downstairs, you hear your parents thank him and give him a crisp 50 dollar bill. You giggle to yourself and fall on the bed, bone-deep exhausted. 
906 notes · View notes
noacfslut · 12 days
Text
hot to go! - matty healy
Tumblr media
order up, i'm hot to go!
working as a waitress at a diner could be quite a drag, at least it was until you started getting a certain curly haired regular who was determined to break down your 'hard to get' act each week through flirtatious banter and dirty jokes that had your cheeks flushed pink. but who were you to complain when he tipped so well and was so nice to look at? (diner!au <3)
inspired by HOT TO GO! by chappell roan <3
minors do not interact!
tags: 18+, matty is so unbelievably cheeky and flirty in this, like it's kind of insane, slow burn (in terms of anything physical), two idiots falling in love one chocolate milkshake at a time, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, praise, overstimulation, cum play if you squint
26719 words
“Order up!” You heard from behind you as you poured a cup of coffee into a mug, the sound of a bell dinging shortly after. You huffed, setting the coffee pot back down into its home, gripping the hot mug between your fingers as you turned to grab the hot plate off of the serving window, one of the cooks smiling through the empty space at you as you slid the plate off of the silver metal hatch. “That was quick.”
You rolled your eyes playfully at the cook, Nick, huffing as you shook your head softly. You were turning on your heels before he could tease you any further, zig zagging through the other servers behind the counter, dropping off the mug filled with coffee to the older gentleman sitting at the very end of the counter in the last barstool before turning the corner and making your way to a table that sat a couple. 
“Sorry about the wait, they were cooking more onion rings back there.” You apologized with a small smile, sliding the plate of food over to the man who had been waiting to receive his plate, the woman across from him having already had hers for a few minutes now. They both were quick to assure you that it was fine, thanking you. “Is there anything else I can get for you guys?”
You nodded kindly when they declined your offer, turning on your heels to check on the booth behind the couple, cleaning up their empty plates and accepting the cash tip with a smile. You balanced the empty plates on the palm of your hand as you made your way back up to the counter, handing them off to the bus boy - Johnny, before leaning back against the counter and crossing one of your heels over the other. 
Wednesdays were prone to dragging by, always the slowest day of the week, constantly checking the time on the clock that hung on the wall surrounded by old highway signs and coca cola advertisements. There just wasn’t enough customers to keep yourself busy, causing the minutes to drag by like hours and have you resisting the urge to pull your hair out as you listened to the same twenty songs playing out of the digital jukebox on a constant loop - normally the chatter in the diner drowned out the sound of the playlist your boss, Tony, refused to stray away from. But with the few people scattered around the diner, it was hard not to focus on the sound of Elvis Presley singing Jailhouse Rock for what felt like the millionth time since you clocked in this afternoon. 
You were staring down at your manicured nails when Ruth, who was arguably your favorite coworker here, slid into the open space next to you and knocked her shoulder against your own to draw your attention up to her - tilting her head to the side. 
“Who is that?” You felt your eyebrows scrunch together ever so softly, eyes sliding over in the direction that Ruth had tilted her head in and landing on a boy you were positive that you had never seen around here before, sure that you would remember someone like him. 
The stranger looked like he just walked straight out of Grease with the way his curly hair was ever so slightly pushed back, ringlets of curls falling over his forehead as he stared down at the menu on the table before him - dark eyes scanning over the various options, you could see his eyebrow twitching in distress from all the way across the diner.
Even though you were sure you had never seen him around before, you couldn’t help but think that he looked as though he belonged there. Sitting in the red booth with a leather jacket covering arms that you would bet money on being covered in tattoos, your eyes scanned over his frame unashamed, only because he had no clue your eyes were on him - taking in the sight of the remainder off his outfit, all black and dangerous, almost as if the universe was sending you warning signs before you could even approach him. 
You watched as he chewed on the inside of his cheek as he continued to flip through the menu of the diner, clearly growing more frustrated as he turned over page after page, running a hand through his hair in aggravation and - oh, did you like the sight of that. His fingers passing through his dark, slightly damp hair, you could only assume it must have been raining outside - the stray droplets on the leather of his jacket confirmed your suspicions. Long, thick, rough fingers that would feel so good running along the expanse of your body, down to the inside of your thighs and sliding inside -
You cleared your throat, forcing away the thoughts in your mind with it, straightening your back against the counter and smirking. “Dibs.”
“Hey!” Ruth gasped, shaking her head when you just winked at her in return as you tighten your ponytail, smoothing out the skirt of your uniform before sauntering over to the mysterious man who was already the most exciting part of your day.
Your converse covered feet clicked against the black and white checkered tile of the diner, your heart rate picking up in pace and face heating the closer you got to the stranger, quickly realizing that he was impossibly more attractive up close. He could feel your presence next to the booth, glancing up at you with eyes that slightly widened and immediately brightened when they landed on you.
You held back a snort when his dark brown eyes scanned over your frame, one of his thick eyebrows raised ever so slightly as he drank in the sight of your bare legs - men. 
You bit back a smile, clearing your throat before you introduce yourself, his dark eyes back on your face, hanging onto your every word and causing you to stumble a couple of times through the practiced spiel you spoke to every single customer that came through the diner - embarrassed that he already had this much of an affect on you. The boy with curly hair nodded softly when you told him your name, seeming as though he was in a daze as his dark eyes strayed from your face once more to drag down the expanse of your body as if he was trying to memorize every freckle and curve. 
It was only when you shifted your weight between your feet, the heat of his stare becoming too much for you to handle, did the mysterious boy clear his throat and find his voice to speak to you. “Hi, Mat-” His voice cracking, high in pitch. Clearing his throat once more, a twinge of pink spreading along his cheekbones, the sight of him flustered by your presence was impossibly endearing - the blush creeping up his neck making him even more attractive and even more difficult to focus on the task at hand. His voice was now much deeper as he opened his mouth to try again. “Hi, I’m Matty.”
You smiled softly, running your eyes along his face unashamed, thinking that the name suited him. “Hi, Matty.” 
The boy, Matty, shifted against the red leather of the booth while clearing his throat once more. “Hi.”
The two of you stared at one another for a beat, holding eye contact until you couldn’t take it anymore, breaking away from it while fighting a smile off of your face. You shook your head softly as you pulled your notepad from the apron tied around your waist, tilting your head to the side slightly as you glanced over the top of the paper at him, only to see his dark eyes still staring at you - the both of you breaking into a fit of soft laughter at catching the other. You shook your head more intensely this time, shaking the nerves as you took a deep breath to calm down the pounding of your heart, bringing the pen up to the notepad and ready to actually do your job. “You ready to order?”
Matty inhaled a breath so deep that it puffed his cheeks out, exhaling it in a tight laugh as he tossed down the menu that he had been holding in his hand. “Can I be honest?” Matty brought his long, distracting fingers to the back of his head to scratch his neck. “I have no fucking clue.”
You couldn't help the giggle that tumbled from your lips, your shoulders shaking and your head following suit. “In your defense, it is a really big menu.”
“Oh, it’s massive.” Matty agreed through a laugh of his own, nodding in agreement. “I don’t know how you remember it all.”
“I don’t know.” You shrugged, tilting your head to the side and giving an overly bright smile. “Must be this big brain of mine.”
“Oh,” Matty nodded, a smile spreading steady over his face as he leaned back in the booth, tossing a leather jacket covered arm over the back of it. “She’s got beauty and brains, I see.”
You cursed the red that tainted your cheeks, turning your head into your shoulder to try and hide it from the boy staring up at you but you knew he had already noticed the effect his bold words had on you if the look he was giving you told you anything. You shook your head, staring down at the frilly socks that peaked out over the top of your high top converse. Matty took pity on you, clearing his throat once more to ease the tension he had created. “What do you recommend?”
Normally when first time customers asked you this question, you wanted to rip your hair out, why couldn't they just pick something off of the menu and go about their day? But now that Matty was curious, you found yourself desperate to think of something that he would love, eager to please and impress him. “Uhm.” You swallowed thickly as he stared up at you expectantly. “A burger, maybe? You can’t go wrong with a good classic, right?”
“Alright.” Matty nodded, taking your suggestion without any form of argument, sliding the menu across the table and closer to you - the laminated edges brushing against your thigh in the process. “Throw me in a chocolate milkshake too, will you, darling?”
You had just gotten your cheeks back to normal only for him to have the blood rushing back to them at the nickname. You were used to being flirted with on the job, sure that you had heard every pick up line under the sun at this point, but something about the way it fell from Matty’s pink, plump lips had your stomach in a whirl. 
“You got it.” You smiled, blindly reaching down to grab the menu off of the table, not wanting to look away from his face - wanting to study every crevice and cranny so you would never forget it. You hadn’t realized that his hand had lingered on the menu until your fingers were brushing against his own, blaming the jolt you felt from the touch of his skin against your own on static, swallowing thickly and quick to scoop the menu up and into your arms - desperate to put some space between the two of you so you could actually breathe and have it reach down to your lungs.
Matty’s eyes were heavy on you, dark and dangerous and all but gleaming up at you. You shot him a tight smile, nodding your head down at him before turning on your heels and nearly sprinting to the front of the diner, tossing the laminated menu off to the side so you could grab onto the tiled counter with both hands. Your head hung between your shoulders as you released a breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding in, only having a moment of alone time before Ruth was crowding your space. 
“Should I clear the restaurant out so the two of you can fuck? I mean Jesus.” Ruth teased, you forced out a laugh in return, heart pounding against your ribcage - embarrassed that Matty still had such an affect on you even with the distance between the two of you. “He was looking at you like he’d rather eat you for dinner.”
You couldn’t even argue with Ruth because she was right, he had been staring at you like he could eat you alive in front of everyone, the idea was tempting. But you found yourself shaking your head before you could allow yourself to go down that rabbit hole. “It wasn’t like that.”
“You can’t be serious.” Ruth laughed through a scoff, glancing over in the direction you had just come from. “I mean, he’s literally still staring at you right now.”
“Oh my god.” You groaned, grabbing her arm and pulling her in a way that forced her body to turn away from Matty, as you had been standing. “It doesn’t matter how he’s looking at me, I can’t do it.”
“Are you-” Ruth cut herself off to huff. “Why can’t you? He’s hot, he’s into you, like-” Ruth cut herself off again in favor of looking over her shoulder to confirm that Matty was still staring over at them. “Really into you.” You sighed, squeezing your eyes shut and gripping the counter tighter. “I mean, you were just telling me how long it’s been since, you know.” You shot a glare your friend's way at her words, causing her to raise her hands in defense. “Look, I’m just saying that I think this could be really good for you.”
You sighed once more, holding your breath before finding the courage to look over your shoulder yourself, immediately making eye contact with dark, dangerous eyes. Matty smiled when he noticed you looking back at him, raising his hand to wave softly at you. You groaned, turning around to drop your head between your shoulders again. “I can’t.”
“But-” 
You cut Ruth off before she could even argue. “I’ll have my fun flirting with him while he’s here and forget about him as soon as he pays, he’s probably just passing through town.” You huff, taking your arms off of the counter and standing more straight up. “I’ll never see him again.”
“Exactly.” Ruth stressed. “Even more reason to just go for it. You’ll never see him again.”
You fixed your friend with a look that had her rolling her eyes. “Fine. But you’re not allowed to complain to me about your needs ever again, I tried to help you out.”
You snorted, shaking your head through a laugh. “Deal.”
So you soaked up the little time you had with Matty, giggling at his jokes and blushing at his advances until it eventually came time for him to pay his bill and leave you behind - but not before asking you for your phone number, scratching the back of his neck out of nerves as he did so. You felt bad rejecting him, doing so with a smile, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to hand out your phone number to another guy just to wait around for a call that would never come. You could tell by looking at Matty that he had a line of women that would wrap laps around the diner, you weren’t special, you were just entertaining for the night. He’d forget about you in the morning and you couldn’t stomach the thought, not when you knew you’d never forget about him. 
You teased Matty to ease the disappointment in his shoulders. “You’ll have to come back to get it.”
The words hurt to say, knowing deep down that you’d never see him again, yet still trying to  delude yourself into thinking they were true. Hard to face reality when Matty was staring down at you with a smug smile and promising that he’d be back to get it before walking out of the diner and out of your life for what you thought was forever. 
Oh, if only you fucking knew. 
“Right, sorry.” Your voice was tight, as tight as your jaw as you swallowed down what you really wanted to say to the customer sitting in the booth beneath you. “I’ll get this fixed for you.”
You shot the brightest, fakest smile you could muster up at the middle aged blonde woman in the booth before grabbing the plate from the table, waiting until you were three steps away from her before rolling your eyes and dropping the fake theatrics all together. “Why the fuck would I have known you wouldn’t want bacon on a bacon cheeseburger?” You mumbled to yourself, cursing the woman, as you walked back up to the front of the diner.
You turn around to push the door to the kitchen open with your shoulder, immediately feeling eyes on you as you make your way over to the counter next to the stove and toss the plate full of fresh, hot food onto it with a hefty sigh. “Hey, now, don’t come back here with that type of attitude.” 
You laughed softly, bringing your hands up to rub at your face out of frustration, peeking through your fingers at the man that the teasing tone belonged to. Ricky stared at you with a raised eyebrow, a glimmer of playfulness in his dark eyes. “Sorry, I’m just-” You cut yourself off, deeming that the gesture of choking the air was a better explanation than any words could have expressed. “you know?” 
A mixture of laughter echoed throughout the kitchen, the men back in the kitchen all stopping their task at hand to listen to you complain about the awful day you were having - about the cup of coffee you had dropped within the first hour of your shift, the ceramic shattering against the checkered floor, dark liquid spreading against the black and white checkered floor. The way that your boss, the owner of The City Diner - Tony, had bitched at you for dropping it, imitating his rough voice and earning more laughter as you relived the conversation with him. You were halfway through your story about the blonde bitch in the booth when you heard your name being called through the window, stopping your story in favor of looking over at who was calling for your attention. 
Ruth had her elbows on the metal of the serving window, leaning in with a shit eating grin that told you everything you needed to know about what she was about to say - but she chose to tease you anyway, raising her voice in a sing-song manner and batting her eyelashes. 
“Your boyfriend is here.” Wolf whistles were heard from beside you as you groaned with a roll of your eyes at your coworkers' antics. “Right on time.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” You tried to argue, but it didn't matter, your coworkers had already started to tease you. 
“Oh, that will cheer her right up.” Nick teased, tossing a towel over his shoulder and crossing his arms over his chest with a smug smile spread over his unshaven face. “What do we think this time, boys?” You glared at the cook as he glanced around the room with furrowed brows. “Ten minutes before he spews a pick up line?”
“Ha.” Ricky laughed, shaking his head and giving you a once over. “Five minutes, max.”
You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, glaring at the men with a stare that you wish could catch fire, rolling your eyes with a deep huff when Ruth decided to chime in. “You guys clearly don’t know him at all.” The brunette argued, glancing over her shoulder at what you could only assume was the booth you knew a familiar head of curls was sitting. “He’ll say hello to her and then immediately tell her how pretty she looks today.”
“Alright.” Nick nodded, glancing over in the same direction Ruth just had, narrowing his eyes. “Five bucks?”
“Deal.” Ruth leaned through the window further to shake her hand with Nick’s, Ricky walked over to join in. You cleared your throat, fixing them all with an unimpressed stare that they smiled back to in return. 
“Wow, I’m so glad that you guys are placing bets on my love life.” You huffed, shifting your weight between your feet under their stares, Nick’s eyebrow still raised as he tilted his head to the side.
“Love life? I thought you weren’t interested in the bloke.” Nick stared at you expectantly, all eyes in the kitchen on you as they had caught you red handed, you huffed at the slip up. 
“I’m not.” You argued with a meek voice, tightening your arms over your chest when the entire kitchen broke out in a mix of “sure.” and “yeah, right.”
Nick rolled his eyes, but didn’t press the issue any further.  “C’mon, you know you want in on it.” He teased, tempting you to take the bait. You took a few steps forward so you could glance out of the serving window, the all too familiar head of curls sitting right where you expected them to be. You fought off a smile, turning back to face the three of them who stared at you, almost holding their breath to see if you would play along or not. 
You brought your tongue out to wet your lips, allowing a smirk to spread over your face as you leaned forward as if you were letting them in on a big secret. “I bet he doesn’t even tell me hi first.”
“There she is!” Nick cheered, raising his fist up in celebration. 
“And if I’m right, you fuckers all owe me ten.” You countered, glancing at all three of them who nodded in agreement.
“Deal.” Nick spoke with a sharp nod, bringing his hand down to shake with your own to finalize the deal before tilting his head in the direction of where the subject of the bet was sitting. “Now go out there and make us proud.”
You rolled your eyes through a scoff, shaking your head as you turned on your heels to make your way over to the kitchen door - stopping in front of it to look over at the three of them before bringing your hand up to the clip in your hair and removing it from your head, allowing your hair to fall down your back, smiling to yourself as they all groaned - murmurs of “she’s cheating” and “that’s not fair” whispered as you shot them a wink before pushing open the door and stepping back out into the diner. The three of them leaned against the metal of the hatch, watching your every move, waiting to see who would win. 
Your white converse carried you across the black and white checkered floor of the diner over to the all too familiar booth, a path that you could probably do with your eyes closed at this point. You pulled the skirt of your uniform up a little higher on your hips before standing in front of the booth, feeling all too powerful as you watched the man who was already staring at your exposed legs. You fought back a smile, knowing you already had him in the palm of your hand. 
You watched the way his dark eyes trailed up your body, a flirtatious smile fighting his lips as he leaned back, throwing a leather covered arm over the back of the red booth - finally locking eyes with you. With the way he was looking at you, you knew you were about to be thirty dollars richer before he even opened his mouth. “Well, there’s my favorite girl. Don’t you look extra pretty today.”
You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth to stop from laughing as you could hear Ruth, Nick and Ricky all groaning and cursing in disappointment of losing. You brought one of your hands behind your back to rub your fingers together in a way to tell them they owed you money, flipping them off quickly before focusing your attention fully on the boy who had quickly become your favorite customer.  “Hi Matty.”
It had been five weeks since Matty had come in for the first time. You found it ironic, that the first night that you had met him you assumed you’d never see him again only to develop a routine with the boy. Every single Wednesday at 6 pm, Matty would stroll into The City Diner in his leather jacket, slip into the same booth, order the same exact meal and flirt with you until you were so red in the face that you had to walk away from him. 
It was dizzying how persistent he was when it came to you, never letting the many, multiple rejections stop him from showing up the following week and trying again - maybe it had something to do with you drawing the tiniest of hearts next to have a nice day! on his receipt, or maybe it was the way you’d sometimes slip into the booth across from him to chat when the diner was extra slow, which happened more often than not considering he came on the slowest day of the week. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that you have never truly rejected him. Always smart with your choice of words and choosing to just walk away with a blush instead of turning the man down, knowing deep down that if you gave him what he really wanted that there would be no reason for him to ever return to the diner and you simply couldn't have that. You had grown accustomed to your little routine and you weren’t quite ready to give him up yet. 
“Hi pretty girl.” Matty smiles, staring at you with dark eyes that gleamed at you like you hung the moon. “How’s your day going?”
“Oh, you know.” You sighed dramatically, trying not to make it obvious how excited you were to see him. You figured since you were on your sixth time doing this that you wouldn’t be as giddy to see him, but you found yourself more and more so with each time that he walked through the front door - surprised that he was still showing up despite the fact that you still hadn’t given him your phone number like you had promised to before. “Same old shit, had a woman bitch at me for putting bacon on the burger that she ordered.”
Matty nodded along with slightly furrowed brows. “Well, why would you put bacon on her burger if she didn’t order it?” 
You know Matty didn’t mean it the way he said it, but the way he worded the question had your blood beginning to boil all over again, you took a deep breath before pointing out a vital part of the story. “Oh, I don't know, maybe because she ordered a bacon cheeseburger.”
Matty’s head hit the back of the booth in a loud laugh that bounced off the walls of the diner and reverberated inside your mind, making you feel warm inside, it had quickly become one of your favorite sounds. “No fucking way.”
“Yes.” You laughed softly alongside him. “I wish I was joking.”
“Is she still here?” Matty glanced around the restaurant when you nodded in response, only having to look at a few tables before making his guess. “Was it that girl?”
You glanced over your shoulder, another stream of giggles falling from your lips at the fact that Matty was able to immediately clock her. “How did you know?”
“Oh, the haircut.” Matty replied quick and simple, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Come on now.”
“Yeah, so that’s how my day is going.” You shook your head through a laugh. “What about yours?”
That flirtatious smile was back on his face in the blink of an eye. “Much better now that I’m with you, darling.”
“Oh, please.” You groaned through a roll of your eyes. “That was cheesy, even for you.”
“Hey, it’s hard to be creative after so many weeks.” Matty defended with his hands up, crossing his arms over his chest and giving you a quick once over. “If you’d stop being so stubborn and just give me your number.” He drew out the word with dramatic flair. “Then I wouldn't have to resort to cheesy lines. It’s a win-win scenario. Truly. You don’t have to hear pickup lines anymore and I finally get to take you out on the date I’ve been itching to bring you on for weeks now.”
You bite the inside of your cheek to fight off the smile that you feared might break your face in half, heat climbing up your neck and up to your cheeks. “Even prettier when you’re blushing, darling.”
You laughed breathily through your nose, bringing your finger to brush against the tip of your nose in an effort to hide your face, hopeful to find some footing to gain some type of control back in this conversation. “You know flirting doesn’t get you a discount, right?”
Matty brought a hand down over his heart, staring at you with faux offense that already had you rolling your eyes into the back of your skull. “Oh, I’m not flirting with you to get money off.” Emphasizing the word with a playful glint in his eyes, dark eyes that dragged slowly down the expanse of your body while his eyebrows raised the closer to your bare legs he got, speaking through a smug smirk. “Your clothes, however.”
“Alright.” You deadpan, shaking your head. “And with that, I’m gonna go put your order in.”
“Oh, come on.” Matty pleads through a soft laugh, clearly quite proud of himself for the joke that had heat simmering faintly in your stomach. “What’s it take to get your number?”
You sigh deeply, one that Matty knew was teasing, fixing him with a look that you hoped was full of annoyance but you knew was filled with everything but. This was a common occurrence, Matty asked for your number at least twice every week he came in here, persistent as hell with no sign of stopping. You considered just giving it to him, or just finally fully giving into him all together and jumping his bones like you’ve been wanting to for six weeks now. But playing hard to get was so much more fun. “Okay, I have a proposal for you.”
“Little soon to pop the question, don’t you think, darling?” Matty teased. “I don’t even have your number yet and you’re already trying to tie me down.”
You fix him with a look that has him holding his hands up in defense. “I’m sorry, go ahead.”
You snort, shaking your head. “Today’s the first of the month, right?” Matty nods. “Okay, why don’t we make a deal?”
“I’m listening.”
“If you’re nice and sweet, if you prove that you deserve it.” Matty shifts in the booth. “I’ll give you one digit of my phone number each month.” 
Matty nods slowly, pursing his lips as he stares off, deep in thought. “Alright, I can work with that.” Bringing his dark eyes back up to lock with yours. “I’ll take what I can get.” You giggle. “What’s my number, then?”
“Oh, you can’t have it yet.” You stare at him in bewilderment, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You just got here, you have to be nice and sweet to me first and then I’ll give you what you want.”
Matty’s eyebrows raise, a smirk plastered on his face. “Oh, I’ll show you nice and sweet, alright.” You tsk, Matty huffs and rolls his dark eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine.”
You smile. “Same order as always?” You knew it never changed, but wanted to confirm just in case. 
“Do you even need to ask at this point?” Matty asks with a tilt of his head.
“Alright, I’ll go put it in for you.” You nod, starting to turn on your heels.
“Okay, I’ll just be sitting here.” Matty sighed, dramatic as ever, clasping his hands together and tapping his fingers against the backs of them. “Being as sweet and nice as I can possibly be.”
You snort, shaking your head with a roll of your eyes, turning the rest of the way so you could walk away. “You’re so annoying.”
Matty’s order didn’t take long to come out, only having to wait less than ten minutes before you were sliding the plate of food in front of him, sitting the chocolate milkshake alongside it and reaching into your apron to grab him a straw and accidentally setting down two. Matty was quick to raise a brow at you with a smirk. “You trying to share my milkshake, darling?” You were quick to shake your head no, snatching up the extra straw before he got any ideas. “You can have it, actually.” Matty spoke with certainty, leaning back in the booth to give your body a quick scan. “Got something else in mind that I’d rather drink.”
You couldn’t stop your mouth from dropping in astonishment, sometimes you truly could not believe some of the stuff that came out of his mouth. “You are ridiculous.” You scoff. “And you were doing so well too.”
Matty shrugs, picking up a fry off of his plate and dipping it in his chocolate milkshake, sticking his tongue out in a way that was unnecessary for eating a french fry, astounded that he could make something so innocent seem so pornographic.
“Can you really blame me?” His dark eyes glued to your legs that were on display. “I mean, you’re the one who hiked your skirt up before you walked over here to greet me.”
You found your mouth dropping open in astonishment for the second time in such a short span of time, quick to close it and clear your throat, a deep blush deepening on your cheeks for being called out - embarrassed that Matty had caught you in the act. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Right.” Matty nodded, eyes dragging up the length of your legs painfully slow, spending an extra beat where the hem of the skirt of your uniform met the middle of your thighs. The smirk on his face grew as you shifted under his gaze, his dark eyes shooting up to meet your own. “Do I get my reward now?”
You hummed, tapping your pointer finger against your chin as if you were deep in thought, Matty watched you with gleaming eyes that narrowed from your antics. “Do you think you deserve it?”
Matty hummed, swallowing and leaning forward in the booth, arms folded against the table as he leaned in to speak low and deep, a dangerous look in those deep, dark eyes of his. “One of these days, I’m going to make you eat those words.”
You swallowed thickly, a low heat simmering in your stomach from his promise. You stared at one another for a few beats of your pounding heart, the rate of it picking up impossibly quicker when dark chocolate eyes flicked down to your lips, your tongue felt as though it was made of sandpaper. 
You cleared your throat in hopes of taking some of the tension with it, sliding Matty’s receipt across the table to him, never wavering eye contact with him as you did so. His dark eyes only breaking from your own when you tilted your head down ever so slightly in reference to the receipt. Matty picked up the small, thin piece of paper between his rather large, veiny hands - the sight of them on full display had your tongue feeling much more like the desert, watching the way one of the veins jumped as he ran his finger absentmindedly along the back of the receipt. Or maybe he was doing it on purpose, if he had noticed the way you hiked your skirt up so it’d be shorter before standing before him, you were sure that he had to have known about your obsession with his hands. 
Matty read over the receipt, smiling softly at the familiar etching of your handwriting across the top of it, have a nice day!<3 - the ink still fresh. 
He glanced at you over the top of the receipt, his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly, confused as to why you wanted him to look at the piece of paper right now. You widen your eyes slightly, nodding your head back down at the receipt so he would look at it again. The furrow in Matty’s thick eyebrows deepened as he looked back down at the receipt, dark eyes scanning over the paper. You knew he spotted it when the wrinkle between his brows softened, an easy, happy smile taking over his face. 
At the bottom right corner of the receipt, you had written a small 8 - the very first digit of your phone number. 
Matty raised a fist in the air out of celebration, shaking it with a big smile on his face, causing you to break out into a fit of laughter. “Finally.”
You shook your head at his antics. “You’re ridiculous.”
“So are you if you think I’m just taking this one number.” Matty slid the receipt back over to you, tapping a finger against the spot next to the eight. “We’re on week six, you owe me for last month.”
“You cannot be serious.” You scoffed, eyes glued to his long finger that rested against the receipt. “That was not part of the deal.”
Matty shrugged, leaning back in the booth and folding his arms behind his head, the sight alone had you refraining from crawling under the booth and taking him into your mouth until he - 
You cleared your throat once more, heat simmering in your stomach as the action had caused Matty’s shirt underneath his leather jacket to rise ever so slightly, enough to reveal some colored ink peeking outside of the waistband of his black jeans. You knew you were staring, but you couldn’t even find it in yourself to be ashamed, not even when you could feel Matty smirking at you - having caught you gawking at the sight of revealed skin and taking it a step further by waiting until your eyes eventually met his own just for him to look down at his lap pointedly, locking eyes with you again and raising a brow.  
As hard as you tried, you couldn’t stop your eyes from flicking down to his lap as he wanted you to, his legs spreading further apart now that your attention was on them, almost like an invitation. You cleared your throat again, surprised that you could even still do so with how dry it was, looking away from him before you actually ended up crawling under the booth this time. 
You dug in your apron for your pen, avoiding eye contact as you leaned down to write a second digit next to the first one, Matty’s gaze burned against exposed skin as you did so. You stood back up straight with a tight smile, pushing the receipt back over to him, not able to take your hand away fast enough before he was grabbing it from you, fingers brushing against your own - having contact with his skin had heat swirling in your stomach now.
You pulled your hand away in favor of wrapping your arms around yourself, needing to hurry up and put some distance between the two of you, hard to breathe with the thick tension in the air. Matty shot you a knowing smirk that had you tightening your arms around yourself, hating that he had you all figured out. He looked down at the receipt to look at the second number, a 2 written next to the 8 you had previously done. 
He smiled to himself, folding up the receipt and pulling out his wallet so he could slide it into one of the card holders for safe keeping, the sight had your cheeks stained pink. “Thank you, darling.”
You nodded, not sure if you even had a voice to speak after the show he just put on, but desperate to find one with the way he was staring at you expectantly. “Think you can wait that long?” Your voice was meek, barely there, but it was something.
“Can you?” Matty teased, deepening the light pink stain on your cheeks to a deeper rose color. The sight of it gave Matty all the confidence in the world. “I’m not worried, I’ll get you to crack before then, I promise you that.” Matty’s words shot down to your core, the heat from your stomach spreading throughout your veins and making your body warmer and warmer from his confident words. “I’m very patient.”
As the end of summer turned into fall, the months piled on and with each passing week you found yourself in deeper and deeper with Matty, still surprised to see him still walking through the door at 6pm every Wednesday even as the seasons changed. 
You help up your end of the deal, giving him a shiny, new digit of your phone number every month, the boy always ecstatic to receive it. 
In September, Matty earned another 2 to go alongside the last one, finally having your area code and bragging that he was already a third of the way there, pulling out the receipt from his wallet and stealing your pen right out of your apron to jot down the digit so he wouldn’t forget it. 
You were stunned by his comfortability of reaching into the pocket of your apron and grabbing the ink pen, shaking your head to get yourself out of the daze it had put you in so you could tease him. “You kept that?”
Matty scoffed. “Of course I did?” Looking at you as if you had grown two heads. “This is very important.”
Matty held up to his end of the deal, trying his hardest to make you crack sooner rather than later, keeping your cheeks stained with a blush anytime he was around. 
Like now, lingering on a barstool at the front counter after his bill had already been paid, watching your every move until you decided to finally give him the attention he so desperately craved. 
“Is there a reason you haven’t gone home?” You huffed, leaning on folded arms on the counter that separated the two of you, narrowing your eyes. 
“Well, you’re always saying how you’re so busy working up here and that’s the reason you can’t go on a date with me, so I figured I’d wait for you. Maybe we could leave at the same time.” Matty shrugged, smiling easy. “Do you?”
“Do I what?” You questioned, eyes puzzled and heart pounding.
“Do you wanna leave at the same time?”  
You swallowed down the butterflies that threatened to start to swarm at the question, couldn't help but imagine what everyone would think if they saw the two of you leave together. Almost like he had read your mind, Matty extended his offer. “I leave first and you can wait five minutes so it’s not suspicious.” 
Matty could feel you considering it, leaning in closer and capitalizing on your silence. “I don’t live too far from here, could have you falling apart underneath me in half an hour.”
It was tempting, very tempting. So tempting that an agreement was on your tongue, seconds away from being spoken but the sound of the bell and a shout of “Order up!” had broken you from your daze - Matty’s shoulders dropping in disappointment.
In October, you gave Matty a 9, his fourth digit. 
Halloween falls on a Wednesday and you weren’t expecting to see him at all, assuming he’d had some party to go to, surprised to see him stroll into the diner dressed as Patrick Bateman - blood and all. Swinging an ax over his shoulder as he slid into his normal booth. 
“I didn’t think I’d see you today.” You said it because it was true, drinking in the sight of his costume, wondering what it would feel like to pull on his tie and lick the fake blood off of his face. 
“It’s a Wednesday, why wouldn’t you?” 
“It’s Halloween.” You gestured to the costume he was wearing. “Don’t you have some hot party to go to?”
“I do.” Matty shrugs, making your blood simmer with jealousy at the thought of who he might meet tonight, the feeling subsiding when Matty winked. “But I had a hot date with my favorite waitress I couldn’t miss out on first.” 
You rolled your eyes to combat the pink that stained your cheeks. 
Maybe it was the way the navy blue pinstripe suit clung to his body, or the way the red splattered along his face seemed to accentuate his features, maybe it was the ax splattered in the same shade of red sitting next to him - whatever it was, you found the confidence to say, “I thought I was your favorite girl.”
Matty hummed, running his dark eyes along your body unashamed and easy, following the curve of it with practiced ease. “And here I thought girls were supposed to dress slutty on Halloween. Where’s the effort, darling?” Matty’s eyes had settled on the cat ears sitting on top of your head. “Saving the lingerie for me?”
You snorted, rolling your eyes, anything to distract from the idea of showing off a pretty, lacy lingerie set for Matty just so he could peel it off of you. “Yeah, sure.”
Matty hummed once more. “What time do you get off?” Not even waiting for an answer. “You could come with me, could be my Evelyn.”
You nodded. “You mean Patrick’s fiancé?” 
“Indeed.” Matty replied, smirking.
You hummed, tilting your head to the side. “You mean the one he dumps? In a restaurant?” Matty brings bloody fingers around to scratch the back of his neck. “You trying to tell me something, Healy?” 
Matty laughs softly, recovering easy. “Well, you see, you’d actually have to go out with me before I could ever dump you.”
“Hm, that’s quite a predicament.” You pouted. “As far as Evelyn goes,” Shrugging. “I guess I’m not your girl.”
“I’m afraid not.” Matty agrees, giving you a quick once over before smirking. “But you are my favorite girl.”
Your eyes roll, deflecting from the way his words made you blush. “I’m sure you say that to all your victims.”
Matty brings a hand over his chest in faux offense, laughing the dig off easily. “You really should come with me though.” Matty stresses, dark eyes pleading. “I could cover you in fake blood, you could be my next victim.” Matty teased the word right back at you, causing your eyes to roll once more. “I could sneak you upstairs and give you a screaming good time.”
You cursed the way your stomach rolled with heat at the innuendos that spilled easily from his mouth, amazed that he could think so quickly on his feet. “Tempting.”
And it was. It always was. 
You weren’t quite sure if you were debating on going to the party with the promise of Matty taking you upstairs and having his way with you or with the need to cling to his arm so no other woman would think they stood a chance. 
But as always, you found yourself shaking your head no, Matty sighed out of disappointment - truly thinking he had you this time.
“I hope you have fun at your party though.” You smile softly, to which Matty claims that it won’t be as fun without you, making your smile widen and giving you the confidence to say, “Don’t go out searching for victims tonight.”
The comment was sly enough to be read as a joke about the character he was dressed up as, it didn’t have to mean anything deeper. But the way that Matty’s eyes gleamed up at you as he smiled told you that he understood exactly what you meant.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
In November, you gave Matty another 9, the fifth digit twinning with the one before - halfway to having your full phone number that he so desperately craved. 
“822-99” Matty spoke the digits he knew, not even needing to look at the faded receipt that he had been keeping track of them on, knowing the numbers off the top of his head by heart. “I’m halfway home, darling. Soon enough, I’ll be able to guess the rest of the way.”
By the time December rolled around, you were absolutely, completely, utterly fed up with your boss. 
You were so angry that you felt as though your head was on the brink of exploding, biting your tongue as hard as ever as you turned to walk away from your boss, Tony, before you said something to him that would cost you your job. 
A family of four with a rather large bill had slipped out the front door while you were in the kitchen grabbing food for another table, leaving the bill unpaid and the responsibility for it on your shoulders - according to Tony. 
“That’s not fair!” You argued with your boss, willing tears to not swell in your eyes as the anger boiled inside of you, you always hated that you cried when you got angry. You refused to let your boss see them fall. “It’s not like I told them to get up and leave! Why should I be punished for it?”
Tony shrugged. “You should have been paying better attention, I don’t know what to tell you. Someone has to pay for it, you were their waitress so I think it should be you.”
The interaction played on a loop in your mind, fueling the fire inside of you as you walked across the black and white checkered floor of the diner, jaw clenched and eyes brimmed with hot, angry tears - not even thinking about what you were doing when you tossed yourself down in a familiar, occupied red leather booth with a huff and your arms crossed over your chest. 
Matty stared at you with dark eyes that were slightly more wide than normal, startled to see you sitting across from him for once. The faintest rise of a smirk spreading across his lips as he leaned back against the leather of the booth, crossing his arms over his chest, mirroring you - giving you a shameless once over before speaking. “You look like you need a cigarette.”
You sighed, uncrossing your arms from your chest in favor of leaning your elbows on the table and resting your face in your hands. Matty could see how tense your shoulders were from across the booth, the smirk on his face dropping and replaced with a look of concern, uncrossing his own arms from his chest and leaning forward to reach across the table - hesitating before brushing his fingers across one of your elbows. 
“Hey, you okay?” You huffed, spreading your fingers over your eyes so you could look at the boy across from you, the concern on his face growing now that he could see your red brimmed eyes - still fighting for your life to not let any of them fall. Matty narrowed his eyes. “What happened? Who’s ass do I have to kick?”
You couldn’t stop the soft laugh that tumbled from your lips, grateful for the way he seemed to ease the tension in your shoulders so effortlessly. “I’m serious!” Matty spoke through a soft laugh of his own, tilting his head to the side when it died down and looking at you more seriously now. “What's wrong?”
“Just-“ You cut yourself off with a deep sigh pulled from your toes, huffing the air out of your nose and shaking your head softly. “Fucking Tony, it’s always fucking Tony. I can't take it anymore.”
“That’s your boss, yeah?” Matty’s face drew up in disgust when you nodded in confirmation. “Of course his name is Tony, stupid name.” You couldn’t help but giggle at the way Matty already hated the man despite not even knowing what happened, already taking your side in the situation. “What did he do?”
You rehashed the entire situation sitting in the booth across from Matty, feeling more relieved now that you were able to talk about it instead of keeping it bottled in. And the way Matty threw in little jabs and jokes at your boss’s expense had you laughing so much that you almost forgot you were even mad in the first place. 
“Matty, shut up, he’s gonna hear you.” You scolded through shaking shoulders, covering your mouth to try and conceal the laughter that was pouring out of you at the curly haired boy's roast session he was having with your boss. 
“I hope he fucking does, he’s a dick.” Matty scoffed, glancing around the diner and glaring at Tony who was standing in the corner taking an order over the phone, unaware of the fire Matty was shooting at him with his dark eyes. “That’s not fair to make you pay for their meal just because they walked out, he should have to pay for it. It’s his fucking diner.”
“Yeah, you’d think.” You sighed, shoulders dropped as you leaned your chin against the palm of your hand, not even thinking about what you were doing as you reached out to take a french fry off of Matty’s forgotten plate - popping it in your mouth and only realizing what you had done when Matty stared at you with a soft smile. You blushed to your roots out of embarrassment, the fry felt like sand going down your throat as you swallowed it. “Sorry.”
Matty was quick to shake his head. “No, no, don’t apologize.” Reaching down to grab a french fry off of his own plate and holding it out to you, raising an eyebrow at you before pushing his plate slightly closer to you, signaling for you to take another. The flush on your face grew deeper, a sight that had the smile on Matty’s face growing wider. You rolled your eyes playfully before grabbing another french fry off of his plate, cheersing your fry against his own with a smile you could no longer fight before bringing it up to your mouth in sync.
The two of you stared at one another until you couldn’t take it anymore, rolling your eyes softly with a shake of your head, cheeks red as ever as grew a sudden interest in the table in front of you, only looking back up at him when he cleared his throat, bringing the conversation back to where it began. “I would be happy to spare a cigarette if you need.” Matty offered, taking another fry off of his plate. “I have a pack in my back pocket.”
You sighed, almost feeling ashamed to admit. “I don’t smoke.” The faint rumble in your stomach had you feeling bold enough to take another fry from his plate, trying to hide away a smile when Matty tried to subtly scoot the plate closer to you once more. “Sadly.”
“Well, maybe you should pick up the habit.” Matty teased, glancing over at Tony once more with a scowl. “Cigarettes always make me feel more at ease.”
You snorted. “That’s a terrible habit to have.” Matty rolled his dark eyes dramatically, smiling softly at you. “Why can’t you just be normal and eat ice cream to cheer yourself up?”
You were only teasing, but Matty was quick to take the bait. “Okay, let me buy you a milkshake then.”
You tried to ignore the fluttering in your stomach, blaming it on the fact that the few fries you’ve eaten off of Matty’s plate were all that was in your stomach right now and not the fact that the gesture had you fighting off yet another blush.
You tried to deflect, shaking your head softly. “You don’t have to do that.” Folding your arms down on the table and shrugging. “I get them for free.”
Matty rolled his dark eyes. “Well, let me buy it for you anyway.”
He was already waving down Ruth before you had the chance to decline, swallowing thickly when he caught her attention. You could see the confusion on her face at the sight of Matty waving her down and not you from across the restaurant, the furrow of her brows deepening when she noticed you were sitting across from him. 
“What kind do you want?” The sound of Matty’s voice pulled your attention away from Ruth, locking eyes with the boy across from you who was holding his hand up to stop you from telling him. “Wait, I know.”
You tilted your head at him, flushing when he shot you a quick wink before turning his attention to Ruth who was now standing next to the booth you both were sitting in, you could feel her eyes burning into the side of your face yet ignored it like the plague. “Sorry, I wasn’t aware that I needed to be checking in on you.” You crossed your arms back over your chest at the way Ruth targeted her words at you. “I thought you belonged to another waitress.”
And oh, did you like the sound of that - Matty belonging to you.
“She’s taking her fifteen.” Matty answered for you with a sickly sweet smile, you fought off one of your own as you finally decided to glance up at your friend who was already staring down at you. 
When the two of you made eye contact, her eyes widened ever since slightly to convey ‘What the hell is going on?’ to which you replied with a small shrug to silently respond, ‘I have no idea.’
Ruth shook her head softly, putting a bright smile on and finally looking at Matty, you found your eyes doing the same. “What can I do for you?”
“Oh, I just need to add another milkshake to my order, if that’s alright?” Your heart hammered in your chest as Matty ordered for you, you could already hear the interrogation you’d be having with Ruth in the back corner of the kitchen as soon as you stood up from this booth. 
“Yeah, of course.” Ruth smiled, pulling out her notepad and pen to write down the addition, her foot kicking against your own softly. “What kind?”
You narrowed your eyes at the curly haired boy who’s dark eyes scanned your face with a faint smirk before responding. “Strawberry.” 
You blamed the flutters in your stomach on being hungry once more as Matty nailed the milkshake flavor all on his own. Ruth nodded her head, turning on her heels to put the order in as you narrowed your eyes further at Matty. “How did you know that?”
Matty leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table, bringing two fingers up to his temples and narrowing his eyes right back at you. You kicked him softly under the table, causing laughter to pour out of him. You quite liked the sound of that. “A magician never tells his secrets, darling.” 
You rolled your eyes, taking another french fry off of his plate and biting it with vengeance. “You think you know me so well.”
Matty nodded his head once, leaning back against the booth and throwing an arm across the top of it, fixing you with a smirk. “Well, considering I’ve seen you every single Wednesday for about six months now, I think it’s safe to say that I do.”
Six months? Had he really been coming around for that long?
Before you could challenge him, Ruth was sliding the strawberry milkshake in front of you, an action that made you blush considering Matty hadn’t explicitly ordered it for you - oh you were so in for it as soon as Ruth got you alone. Matty thanked her and soon the two of you were alone again, you sheepishly pulled the milkshake closer to yourself so you could take a sip from the bright red straw, trying to ignore Matty’s heated gaze on your lips wrapped around the plastic as you sucked the milkshake through it. 
You hummed in delight, licking the excess ice cream off of your lips before shooting Matty a smile, the boy across from you shifted in his seat with a smile that was tighter than your own. You chose to break the tension. “Really, how did you know I’d want a strawberry shake?”
Matty shrugged, taking a sip from his own chocolate milkshake to try and avoid the question, but a tap of your foot against his own under the table had him realizing you weren’t going to let it go until you had an answer. Matty sighed, holding out his finger towards you. “Okay, but you’re not allowed to laugh at me.”
You nodded in agreement, taking another sip of your milkshake and kicking your feet under the table at the excitement of seeing even a glimpse into Matty’s mind.
“I figured you’d want a strawberry milkshake because I've seen you use a strawberry flavored chapstick a few times before.” Matty admitted with pink tinted cheeks, the ice cream going down your throat suddenly giving you a brain freeze at his admission. “It was a lucky guess, thought I’d take a shot at strawberry being a flavor you enjoyed in other things as well.”
You could no longer blame the fluttering in your stomach on your hunger, really it was a piss poor excuse to begin with. You knew that wasn’t the cause of it then and you for sure knew it wasn’t the cause of it now, the butterflies swarming in your stomach spread through your veins and made you feel as though you were about to take off in flight. The fact that Matty had paid attention to, remembered a detail so small had you feeling like throwing all caution to the wind and jumping across the table and finally kissing him like you had so desperately been wanting to since the first night he strolled in here. 
But you wouldn’t, you couldn’t. You refused to fall for Matty, you knew he was just in this to prove that he could break you down. He probably wasn’t used to being rejected, so now he was determined to flirt his way into your pants. Well, it wasn’t going to work. You would allow yourself to enjoy his flirtatious jokes every Wednesday for as long as he showed up, but you would never allow yourself to catch feelings for the curly haired boy. Nope. 
“God, I’m sorry, I sound like such a creep.” Matty cringed. “Did I weird you out? I’m so sorry.”
“No.” You were quick to disagree, realizing that the silence you had met him with had definitely made him start to panic, not realizing that you were having a panic of your own inside your own head. “No, it’s not creepy.” You assured, trying to search for the right word that wouldn’t cause a butterfly from your stomach to just fly out of your mouth as you spoke it. “It’s sweet.”
The faint pink tint on Matty’s cheek darkened to a rose color as he rolled his eyes playfully, taking another sip from his chocolate milkshake. You leaned forward to take a sip of your own strawberry one to stop the smile from spreading over your face. You glanced at the clock on the wall across the diner as you sipped on your milkshake, your eyes widening at the time.
“Oh god, I need to get back to work before Tony actually fires me.” You took one last quick rushed gulp of your milkshake, wincing from the brain freeze that it caused, the sound of Matty’s laughter warmed your veins back up. “Thank you for this, really.” You smiled at him softly. “All of it. For listening to me rant, for easing my mind.” You tilted down at the milkshake before you. “For buying me this. I just-“ You paused to take a deep breath, swallowing down the butterflies that threatened to fly out of your mouth as you stared into Matty’s dark eyes. “Thanks.”
You slid out of the booth before you could be entranced by his dark orbs any longer, smoothing your hands over the skirt of your uniform as you did, not noticing how clammy your hands were until right now. “Of course, I’m happy to do it.”
You swallowed thickly, trying to stop your knees from wobbling when Matty stared up at you from his place at the booth, a sight you’ve seen more times than you could count - so why did this time feel so different? You smiled, trying your best to deflect and bring the conversation back to where it was comfortable - mindlessly, meaningless flirting. “Same time next week, yeah?”
A familiar teasing smirk fell across Matty’s lips, the familiar sight had you feeling more at ease as the two of you slipped back into your normal roles with one another. “Already planning our second date, darling?”
You snorted. “We’d actually have to have the first one for me to do that, Healy.”
You knew you had walked right into the trap as soon as you said it, but it was too late now. You were already rolling your eyes before Matty could even say, “Okay, then let’s plan our first one.” Matty’s smile was smug, like he had just won some award. “You busy Friday night?”
“I am.” You nodded tightly, smiling to match, heart pounding against your rib cage. “But you knew that.”
Matty tsked, snapping his fingers in disappointment before holding a hand over his heart dramatically. “A guy can only take so much rejection.” You couldn’t help but giggle at his antics. “We could always count this as our first date.” Matty pointed out, making your heart pound impossibly faster. “In fact, I think I will.”
You snorted, shaking your head, trying your best to not show how his words were affecting you. “Nothing about this was a date.”
Matty shrugged. “We laughed, we shared my food, I bought you a milkshake.” You watched the curly haired boy count them on his long fingers. You cursed the pink tint that creeped up your neck as he spoke. “We even played footsie under the table.” Your mouth dropped at his claim, a bright smile spreading over his face at the sight. “Sounds like a date to me, darling.” 
“We did not play footsie.” You scoffed, shaking your head in astonishment. “I kicked you, there’s a difference.”
Matty shrugged once more. “It’s all the same in the dark.”
You blushed, turning your face to the side to try and hide it and immediately locking eyes with Ruth who was watching the two of you like a hawk. You felt your stomach drop at the sight, knowing that it was time to face the music and go talk to your friend about what the fuck had just a happened - you weren’t even sure if you knew yourself. 
You smiled sweetly. “Goodbye, Matty.”
Matty’s bright smile never faltered, his dark eyes giving you one last once over before nodding his head once. “Bye, darling.”
You could feel the heat from his stare as you walked away all the way through until you were hidden behind the door of the kitchen, immediately pulled into a corner so you could spill everything to Ruth. 
You found yourself rather busy after that, running around to try and make up for lost time, thankful that Ruth had taken over for you willingly when your fifteen minute break had ended up lasting around twenty five.
When you finally found the time to make it back over to Matty’s designated booth, you were sad to see that he was already gone. You sighed as you made your way over to collect the cash that you already knew was waiting for you, frozen in place when you saw more cash than normal sitting on top of the table. You felt your eyebrows furrow as you reached down to collect it, sliding the bills between your manicured nails as you counted it up. 
Matty left his usual twenty dollar tip and then an extra forty alongside it. You could feel the confusion etched on your face as you collected his receipt off the top of the table to see if he had left a note to explain why he had left sixty dollars behind. 
Your heart felt as though it was about to burst from your rib cage as you read his sloppy yet readable handwriting along the bottom of his receipt. 
i’m sorry that table ditched on you, hope this covers their bill for you. it was a wonderful first date ;) x
p.s. fuck tony - matty 
You stared in astonishment at the words etched in front of you, clutching the cash in between your fingers tightly, the gesture overwhelming you and making the butterflies in your stomach come crashing back in full force. 
Earlier you had vowed to never fall for the curly haired boy, but now standing here and holding proof that he cared about you, you feared that you already had. 
“I believe you owe me something.” Matty was leaned back against the booth, tattooed arm thrown over the back of the red leather booth, staring up at you with gleaming eyes and a smile to match. 
“Yeah?” Shifting your weight between your feet and tilting your head to the side, trying to think of the possibility of what he was about to say. Knowing him, it could be anything. “And what would that be?”
Matty raised a brow. “You owe me my number for the month.” Reminding you that you had indeed forgotten to give him his promised digit, you couldn’t imagine how you could have forgotten, normally just as excited to give Matty the digit as he was to receive it - though you were better at hiding it than he was. Matty was quick to remind you how. “I think it must have just slipped your mind, think you were too busy giving me bedroom eyes across the table, happens to the best of us.”
Matty slipped the original receipt that started this whole exchange across the table to you, all the ink faded and discolored from the paper except for the five digits etched in your handwriting. You huff through a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “You are insufferable.” 
Yet you leaned down to write a shiny, new number next to the more dull ones, livening up the paper and causing Matty to stare at it as if it was brand new. Matty’s dark eyes focused on the three written on the receipt, mumbling to himself. “822-993. Only four more to go and then you’re all mine.”
And oh, did you like the sound of that, being all Matty’s. 
Your stomach fluttered amongst other parts of you at the idea. 
You snort to deflect from the pink tint rising on your cheeks, looking down at his plate still covered in food. “You need a to-go box?”
“Depends.” Matty leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, dark eyes easily running along the expanse of your body with a smirk on his face. “Will you fit inside it?” Dark chocolate eyes falling in a wink. “You’re the only thing I want to take hot to go.”
The line was cheesy, but it worked. You hated that it had your stomach leaping and skin crawling, the idea of Matty taking you home and eating you for dinner, it drove you insane. 
Normally you’d turn on your heels, bidding him goodbye with a playful look in your eye, it was comfortable, normal - it was what he was expecting you to do. But you felt like rattling him for once, catch him off guard. And maybe, just maybe, you wanted to make it known that your resolve was weakening - not sure if you could wait out the last four digits, the tension already proving to be too much.
“Sorry.” You pushed your bottom lip out in a pout that his eyes immediately fell to without hesitation, bringing the tip of your tongue out the lick along the expanse of it now that his attention was already on it. “I don’t put out until the second date.”
The smirk on Matty’s face deepend, his gaze lingering on your lips for a beat more before sliding back up to lock eyes with your own. “Well, lucky for me we already had our first.”
 “What are you-” You cut yourself off to huff out a deep sigh. “That was not a date.”
Matty shrugs easily. “Whatever you say, darling.” You roll your eyes just as easy. “Come on, what’s it take to bring you home?”
You were feeling bold, blame it on the fact that he had actually taken his leather jacket off for once, black and colored ink scattered along his arms and on full display for your viewing pleasure. You batted your doe eyes.  “You’ll find out soon enough. Goodbye, Matty.”
Then you were turning on your heels with a wink of your own, leaving Matty alone in the booth with his mouth agape, eventually spreading into a smile that shined from across the diner. 
You were having a particularly long Wednesday, the minutes seemed to drag by like hours, only a few had passed by every time you checked the clock hanging on the wall of the diner. Deep down you knew that your constant attention on the clock was not due to boredom - you were counting down the minutes until the familiar head of curly hair walked through the door. 
Usually you were able to pinpoint the exact moment that Matty would step foot into the diner, never more than a minute or two past six o’ clock. You found yourself biting your lip raw as you poured a cup of coffee for an elderly man, glancing up at the clock and huffing when it displayed the time of 6:12. You turned your head over your shoulder to glance in the direction of the vacant booth that Matty should be sitting in by now, by this time he’d already be a few flirtatious comments deep with you, but it still remained empty - almost mocking you as you walked right past it to deliver the cup of coffee to the elderly man with a smile that you knew did not reach your eyes. 
You knew it was silly to be this upset over Matty being late, hell, he might not even be coming at all. But you had no reason to be. There was no law that stated that he had to share every single Wednesday night at 6pm in The City Diner with you - flirting your ear off until he had to leave, only to repeat the same cycle the next week. And the week after that. And the week after that. And the week after that. The two of you have been playing this game for seven months now so, actually, yes it almost was a law that Matty should be here by now. 
Did he finally grow tired of your rejections, had he given up on you? I mean, really, it was only a matter of time before he did. Seven months deep and all the curly headed boy had to show for it was six measly digits of your phone number, a little over halfway there. Matty more than likely had grown tired of the chase and found somebody new to play with, someone prettier and easier to break down, someone better than you. 
You felt sick at the thought, at the idea that you may never see the infectious boy ever again, kicking yourself for allowing him to infiltrate your veins in such a way that twelve fucking minutes had you on the verge of pulling your hair out. 
You found yourself back behind the counter before you could even realize how fast your feet were taking you across the checkered tile, grabbing a red frosted glass and slamming it down on the tile with a tight jaw, all but throwing the ice into the cup before holding it under the soda dispenser and glaring up at the clock as the fizzy drink filled the frosted glass up. 6:16 now. You swore you could hear the ticking of the hands on the clock even over the sound of conversations throughout the diner. Each passing second, every single tick had you gripping the cup tighter, only breaking from your daze when you felt the soda dripping onto your hands, so distracted by the hands on the clock that you let the drink overflow. You mumbled a curse, setting the cup to the side and staring down at your hands that you coated in the fizzy liquid. You huffed, wiping your hands on your apron as you searched for a stray, clean washcloth that would do the job better. 
“Hey.” You heard Ruth call out from beside you, leaning her back against the counter and crossing her arms over her chest, tilting her head in a direction you didn’t care to look at. “Who’s the girl?”
You huffed once more, you weren’t in the mood to gossip with your friend right now, not when Matty was late and your hands were growing sticky from the soda. You finally found a stray, clean washcloth to wipe the soda more efficiently from your hands with, only paying attention to Ruth when they no longer felt sticky. 
Ruth stared at you expectantly, her green eyes widening at you ever so slightly to imply that she was waiting for an answer, you sighed - shifting your weight on your feet and shaking your head softly out of annoyance. “What girl?”
You didn’t have time for this. You needed to clean up the mess you had made with the overflowing soda, you still needed to run the fizzy drink to a table who was waiting for it, Nick had just placed a hot plate that you were sure was for the booth in the back corner on the serving window and Matty still wasn’t here. You could not be bothered with whatever girl Ruth was talking about. 
Well, that was until you knew what girl Ruth was talking about. 
“The girl sitting with your boyfriend.” Ruth said with furrowed brows, her green eyes filled with confusion and desperate for answers. “I’ve never seen her around before.”
You found yourself rolling your eyes and shaking your head before you could even process what she had just said. “Matty is not my boyfr-“ You cut yourself off, finally processing what Ruth had just said. Matty was here? And he brought someone with him? A girl? “Wait, what?”
Ruth groaned, reaching out to grab the sides of your face so she could force you to look in the direction of the booth you had been sending death glares at for the past twenty minutes, blinking hard as though to make sure your eyes weren’t deceiving you. 
And sure enough, there Matty was, sitting in a leather jacket that contrasted beautifully with the red leather of the booth he was leaning back against. A sight that normally had you weak in the knees but now had you feeling as though you could burn this entire diner to the ground as you watched his curly head fall back in a loud laugh that filled the nearly vacant diner at something the girl across from him had said. The sound of his laughter normally had you feeling warm inside but as it mixed with the sound of hers your blood ran cold. 
She was - well, she was beautiful. Beautiful and perfect and amazing and you wanted her head on a platter. Her head that was full of dark, voluminous, luscious curls that fell down her back in contrast to the white shirt she was wearing. 
You pushed Ruth’s hands off of your face, staring at the two of them in bewilderment. Who was this girl? And why the fuck would Matty bring her here? 
“You have to go over there.” Ruth broke you from your daydream. 
“Are you insane?” You scoffed, not able to take your eyes off the train wreck in front of you. “You have to serve them, I can’t. I think I might throw up all over their table.”
“You have to go over there.” Ruth stressed, finally breaking your stare from Matty and the mysterious girl to stare at the brunette with pleading eyes. “Mark your territory, assert dominance, take claim of what’s yours.” 
“He doesn’t belong to me.” You argued because it was true. He didn’t. And it was all your fault. You could have had him that very first night you met him, but instead you decided to play the long game and look where it ended up. You lost your chance, he moved on and he was here to rub it in your face. 
Ruth rolled her green eyes at you, fixing you with a pointed look that had you releasing a deep sigh. She brought her manicured nails out to fix your hair, making sure you looked as perfect as could be before pushing your shoulder softly in the direction of the booth. “Go get your man.”
You huffed, rolling your own eyes while mumbling that he was not your man while you turned on your heels and made your way over to the all too familiar booth, dread seeping further and further into your veins with every step you took against the black and white checkered tile. 
Matty noticed you before you had finished making your way over to them, a smile instantly overtaking his face as he unashamedly ran his dark eyes over the expanse of your body, an action that normally had your stomach filling with butterflies but now had it swirling with nausea as you glanced over at the girl across from him just in time to catch her also giving you a quick once over. 
You swallowed the bile that threatened to creep up your throat at the sight, trying to ignore the thought that she had probably already deemed that you weren’t a threat and you couldn’t even blame her. Now that you could see her up close, you felt like a fool for ever even considering that you had a chance with the boy who was smiling up at you as you finally stopped next to their booth, not even forcing a fake smile on your face. You pulled the notepad from your apron and clicked your pen with vengeance, refraining from pulling your hair out at the idea that you hadn’t had to write Matty’s order down in months, but you needed the notepad to write down hers.
“There she is, pretty as ever.” Matty all but beamed, giving you a smile so bright and warm that you felt as though you needed to smack it right off of his face, astounded that he could be so bold to find it in himself to still flirt with you despite the fact that he had a girl sitting across from him. 
You didn’t even crack a smile, jaw ticking as you glared into his dark eyes that had steadily been growing with a mix of confusion and concern, his smile faltering and eyebrows slightly scrunching together at the energy that exuded from you - creating a thick tension in the air between the two of you. 
You counted to ten in your head, trying to calm yourself down before your head actually exploded.
“You’re late.” Mentally kicking yourself as you spoke without thinking, hating that you had just exposed yourself for knowing that he hadn’t shown up right at six o’ clock on the dot. Matty’s smile had upturned again, yet still hesitant considering you were still glaring at him with a look that he was thankful couldn’t kill. “Didn’t think you’d show.”
“Yeah, sorry, you can thank this one for that.” Matty laughed softly, tilting his head in the direction of the beautiful girl sitting across from him. And though you begged your eyes not to, they slid over to look at her anyway, stomach rolling with another wave of nausea as she smiled warmly at you and even gave you a soft wave. “We told her to start getting ready two hours before we had to leave and yet she didn’t listen.” Matty teased, the girl rolled her eyes and flipped him off with a smile. You were so wrapped up in watching them that you hadn’t even picked up on the fact that Matty had said we, lightheaded as you watched their interaction. “Imagine that.”
“Oh, fuck off.” The girl scoffed through a soft laugh, rolling her eyes at Matty before looking back at you with another warm smile, her brown eyes searching your face before holding out her left hand in an offer for you to take. “I’m Charli, since Matty forgot to introduce me.”
You could hear Matty scramble as you stared down at her hand, not moving a muscle. “Oh shit, sorry. It slipped my mind. This is Charli.”
You stared at her outstretched hand for a few beats of your pounding heart, eyes glued to the diamond on her finger, feeling as though your legs had been kicked out from under you. Matty was engaged? Your throat was closing in on itself, all the blood rushing to your heart to fuel the racing pace that pounded against your ribcage, tunnel vision on the diamond that sparkled under the fluorescent light of the diner.
You could feel the tension growing thicker as her hand grew tired from hanging there. You felt awful for being so blatantly rude, it wasn’t her fault, but the thought of touching her skin had the feeling of bile rising in your throat once more. 
You shifted on your feet, clearing your throat before looking back down at your notepad, resting your pen against the paper to distract yourself from watching Charli awkwardly put her hand back down. You could feel Matty’s puzzled gaze burning a hole into the side of your head, but you ignored it in favor of asking in a tight, monotone voice. “What do you want?”
You were so hyper focused on keeping your attention on the blank page before you that you jumped ever so slightly when you felt a hand graze against your shoulder, acting as warning before a man with a blonde, shaved head slipped past you and slid into the booth next to Charli - placing a kiss to the side of her head and throwing an arm over her on the back of the booth. “Sorry, I couldn’t fucking find the bathroom.” 
Oh.
You wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole, such a simple interaction that answered so many questions that had been whirling around in your mind and eased the simmering rage bubbling inside of you - replaced with embarrassment and shame for the way you had acted, you didn’t dare to look at Matty even though you could feel the burn from his stare singeing your skin. 
“So this is her, then?” Deep voice speaking across the booth to Matty, you could see his curls nodding in confirmation in your peripheral vision. Soon the man with the shaved head was turning his attention toward you, brown eyes scanning your face almost as if he was assessing you - deeming if you were worthy of his friend or not. You held your breath, white hot shame burning under your skin as you relived how you had just acted mere moments before he interrupted, feeling as though you could finally breathe when a soft smile spread over his pale face and he gave a tight nod of approval. “Hi, I’m George.” You gave him a soft smile back, the best one you could muster up while actively trying to fight against the bile climbing your throat at the thick tension between you and the man you refused to look at. 
“It’s so nice to finally meet the girl that I have heard so much about.” You could feel your cheeks heat and you weren't sure if it was from the confirmation that Matty had talked about you or out of embarrassment from before. “I mean, seriously, so much. He’s not stopped yappin’ about you since he came in for the first time.”
Now you were more sure that the pink tint on your cheeks was due to the former.
“See this?” Matty broke his silence for the first time since introducing Charli. “This is exactly the type of shit I explicitly told you not to say before we came in here.”
George and Charli laugh easily from their side of the booth, making the tension in your shoulders feel more at ease, feeling comfortable enough to laugh along softly - feeling relieved yet still not daring to glance at the boy with curly hair.
“Oh, don’t start you two.” Charli groaned through a laugh, rolling her eyes and turning her attention to you. “I’m sorry about them, they’re a handful.”
Another wave of laughter tumbled from your lips, louder this time and more carefree, at the fact that Charli sounded like she was talking about children of her own and not her fiancé and his best friend. You quickly decided that you liked his friends, especially Charli, making that hot shame burn deeper inside of you for how you had acted towards her. Opening your mouth to apologize before you could stop yourself, the guilt consuming you. 
“I’m sorry.” You swallowed thickly, giving Charli a kind smile that she returned, George looked between the two of you with deeply furrowed brows and confusion plastered on his face. “About before.” 
Charli waved you off, diamond ring flashing beautifully in the light, the sight of it not making you sick with nausea any longer. “Don’t worry about it.” She shook her head softly, giving you a kind, reassuring smile before looking at George and Matty. “I told you guys if you left me alone with Matty that she would assume we were together.” You felt the pink on your cheeks darken as she so casually called you out, glancing back over at you. “Fucking idiots, these two.”
You felt dizzy with all three of their attention now focused on you, swallowing thickly. You could feel Matty slide his foot across the floor, knocking it against your own in hopes that it would draw your eyes over to him, desperate for you to pay attention to him, to notice him. It didn’t, you couldn’t, you were far too embarrassed - only keeping your attention on George and Charli despite the insistent pressure of his foot against your own. 
“Oh, I didn’t-” You started to try and build a defense for yourself, desperate to cover up your blind jealousy, but it died in your throat when Charli fixed you with a knowing look. “Right.” You huffed, gripping the pen between your manicured fingers tighter, white knuckled as Matty’s foot ran up the side of your ankle. You clear your throat, shifting your weight between your feet and crossing the one that Matty had been messing with behind your other, hiding it away from him. “What can I get for you guys?”
You avoided the familiar booth as much as you could for the remainder of their time there, ironic considering normally you would be avoiding all your other tables just so you could linger there with Matty. So now that you were hiding out in the kitchen after dropping their food off to them, you were getting questioning stares and side eyes from your coworkers, Nick being the only one brave enough to speak up. “Is there a specific reason you’re avoiding your boyfriend?”
You groan, bringing your hands up to your face to rub it out of frustration. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Okay.” Nick spoke with caution and though you couldn’t see him, you knew he had his hands raised in defense. “Did something happen?”
“Oh yeah.” Ruth’s voice carried throughout the kitchen, the brunette talking through a stack of empty dishes, shooting the bus boy, Johnny a glare for doing his job for him. 
Nick stood up a little straighter, brows coming together to show that he was more concerned now. “He didn’t cross a line did he? He didn’t hurt you, right?” Not even waiting more than a second of your silence before he was cracking his knuckles. “I’ll fucking kill him.”
Nick was already on the move, making you groan again before calling out for him to stop. “He didn’t do anything.” 
Nick stopped, looking even more confused now. “Well, what happened then? What’s got you this upset?”
You sighed, hoisting yourself up on the squeaky clean counter, swinging your legs and playing with the loose hem hanging from the skirt of your uniform. “I ruined it.”
“Oh, please.” Ruth mocked, coming to lean on the counter you were sitting on. “You did not ruin it.” Turning her head over her shoulder to face Nick. “She did not ruin it, she’s just being dramatic.”
“I showed my ass out there.” You stressed, tossing your head back against the wall with a thud. “How fucking embarrassing.” 
“You got a little jealous, everyone does.” Ruth spoke softer now, handling you with more caution now that she knew how upset you were. “Didn’t he get jealous that time he came in and some dude was flirting with you already? He was fucking fuming in the booth. It’s normal to be stupid and jealous when there’s feelings involved.” Ruth explained. “It showed him that it’s not all one sided and that you like him just as much as he likes you.” Knocking her elbow against your knee and shrugging with a faint smirk. “He probably thought it was hot.”
You snorted, shaking your head softly against the wall. “He probably thinks I’m insane.”
“Maybe.” Ruth shrugs, knocking against your knee again to tease. “Maybe he’s into that.”
You laugh through a breathy nose, pulling on the loose thread of your uniform harder, tugging it out and freeing it from the black fabric that bounded it. “I just feel silly, I don’t know why I reacted that way.”
“It was valid.”
“It wasn’t.” You sighed. “We’re not dating, I see him once a week and flirt with him for an hour, he doesn’t belong to me. He can go out and do whatever he wants.” Your lips turning up into a scowl. “Whoever he wants.” 
“Yeah.” Ruth agrees, knocking your knee for a third time. “But he only wants you.”
You shook your head, causing Ruth to roll her eyes and look over at Nick for some help. “You’re a man, will you please tell her that if he was not obsessed with her that he would have stopped coming in July.”
Nick did the math in his head, counting back the months until he knew that July was only a month in, nodding his head in agreement. “I’ve never persuaded just a hookup with a girl I didn’t want to actually be with for longer than a couple of weeks.” Nick spoke truthful and honest, he was never one to sugar coat anything with anyone. “I mean, women are everywhere, if he just wanted pussy he could go out and find it easily.” You and Ruth chuckled softly at his choice of wording. “There is no fucking way he has been coming around for seven months just to get in your pants, it’s deeper than that.”
“See.” Ruth says confidently with a smile and a pointed look. “Now I’m about to tell you for the second time today.” Grabbing your hand and tugging you off of the counter and back onto your feet, fixing your hair of any stray fly aways much like she had before, turning you and giving you a quick slap on the ass that caused laughter to pour out of you. “Go out there and get your man.”
You were walking out of the kitchen before you could talk yourself out of it, holding on to the shred of confidence Nick had given you instead of the doubt and insecurities as your converse clad feet carried you across the black and white checkered floor on a path that you knew all too well.
You stared down at your feet for most of the walk, only looking up when you knew you were about to near the booth, heart dropping at the sight of Matty sitting alone and staring at you like he could eat you alive. 
Your heart felt as though it was going to beat out of your chest at the idea of having to face Matty alone, no one else for you to stare at like you had earlier to avoid eye contact with him, it was just you and him now.
Your tongue felt like sandpaper when you swallowed, a familiar thrum buzzing through your veins at the sight of his dark eyes drinking you in. You weren’t even fully standing next to the booth yet and Matty was already leaned back against the red leather with a smirk on his face that fueled the pounding of your heart. “Hi pretty girl.” 
It made you dizzy, how quickly the two of you fell back into things now that you were alone. Matty spoke the introduction through a smirk as if he was trying to show you how things could have gone if you hadn’t acted the way you did. 
You swallow thickly. “Hi Matty.” Shifting under his gaze. “Where’d your friends go?”
Matty checks you out unashamed, lingering on your exposed thighs. “Made ‘em leave.” Dragging up the expanse of your body to linger on the way your chest rose and fell as you breathed in and out deeply. “After the way you showed out?” Eyes that seemed darker than normal locked with your own in a heated gaze. “Wanted you all to myself.”
You blink, tilting your head to the side. “The way I showed out?” 
“Oh, don’t get all shy on me now, love.” Matty cooed. Love. That was new. You quite liked the sound of that. “You practically had steam rolling out of your ears when you first came over here.” He must have noticed the panic in your eyes at the mention of how you had acted, worried about what he may think, he was quick to assure you. “It was fucking hot, you getting all possessive over me.” Crossing his arms over his chest and shooting you a wolfish smile. “Though, I never thought I’d see a day where you got jealous.”
You scoff, feeling the need to defend yourself even though you knew he could see right through you, crossing your own arms over your chest and speaking firmly. “I wasn’t jealous.”
“Oh, please.” Matty drew out dramatically, rolling his eyes with a scoff. “You wanted to jump my bones right here in this booth just to show everyone in here who I belong to.”
You shifted on your feet, hating that Matty knew you so fucking well. You could admit it, tell him that you wanted nothing more than to crawl on his lap and allow him to finally have his way with you just so you could stake your claim over the boy you had fallen head over heels for. You could deny it, roll your eyes and call him crazy for ever even thinking that you would be jealous. Instead, you decided to ignore the jealousy element all together and focus on the big elephant in the room. “You don’t belong to me.”
A beat passes, full of nothing but locked eyes in a heated gaze and held breaths, waiting to see if the line you both had been tiptoeing around for seven months was finally about to be crossed or not. 
Matty blinks, staring directly into your eyes as he leaps over the line. “I could.”
Your breath hitches in your throat, heart pounding and ears ringing. You could feel something shift in the air through the thick tension between the two of you, you knew that Matty could feel it too, shifting from his place in the booth to scoot closer to where you were standing. “Let’s get out of here.”
“I-” You clear your throat in hopes that it would contain the ringing in your ears, the way that he was looking at you had heat swirling in your stomach and simmering through your veins, spreading throughout your whole body and making you feel woozy. “I should probably go check on my other tables.”
You swallow, ready to turn on your heels so you could put some space between the two of you, needing it so the air would actually reach your lungs - the tension between you blocked it from doing so. You made it one step before a warm hand was grabbing your wrist, not tight enough to hurt you but hard enough to stop you from leaving. The warmth from his hand only fueled the fire underneath your skin further, your tongue impossibly dry as you swallowed thickly, turning your body back around to face him, his hand lingered on your wrist despite the fact it had no reason to be there any longer.
“Wait.” His voice was more breathy than normal, you quite liked the sound of it, desperate to find a reason for you to stay. “You owe me a number.” 
You had completely forgotten that you still owed him a new digit of your phone number for this month, almost forgetting about the fact again when Matty’s thumb started to rub faint circles against your wrist, the feeling of it already had you feeling lightheaded. 
With the way he was looking up at you, dark eyes full of desperation and need, hand wrapped around your wrist and rubbing a thumb along the inside of it - you couldn’t help but tease him. “Do you think you deserve it?”
Matty’s eyes grew impossibly darker, hand tightening its hold on your wrist, blunt fingernails digging into the skin. You were sure he could feel your pounding pulse in your wrist, thankful he couldn’t feel the one in between your legs. He leaned in closer, voice low and gravely. “Remember what I said about making you eat those words, darling. You’re real bold now, I’d love to see how that holds up when I get you alone.”
The memory of the promise Matty had made to you months ago when you first started giving him a number for each and every month came rushing back to you, fueling the ache in your core as Matty's thumb traced a heart so faintly on your wrist that you thought you were imagining it.
You raised an eyebrow at him in response, not trusting your voice to actually speak anything. Matty narrowed his eyes before allowing a sly grin to spread over his pale face. “I’ll earn it, then.” You felt your eyebrows come together ever so slightly in confusion, not understanding what he meant by that, but he was quick to fill you in. “I’ll stay and help you close up and clean tonight.” Dark eyes flicked down to your mouth so quickly you almost missed it. “I’ll get on my hands and knees.”
You cursed your past self for ever informing him that you closed up the diner all by yourself any night that you worked. You were shaking your head before you even had time to clear your throat and find your voice, you knew exactly what he was doing. He knew that as soon as he got you alone, without the distraction of customers or tasks that you would lean on when things got a little too tense that there was no way in hell that you would be able to turn him down. It’s why you have avoided being alone with him for all these months, you knew you didn’t stand a chance.
You tried to speak, but it came out as nothing more than a squeak, clearing your throat to try again. “No, that’s okay. That’s not necessary.” Shaking your head with wide, panicked eyes. “I’ll just give it to you now.”
Matty smirked as he watched you scramble, knowing that he had you in the palm of his hand, literally - running his middle and ring finger in circles along the inside of your wrist. Almost as if he was imitating what he would do between your legs. You felt faint at the thought, so ready to just throw caution to the wind and take him right here in the booth in front of everyone.
It was a position he had put you in more times than you could count, nearly giving in to him, only to be left disappointed when you walked away from him. Matty wasn’t going to let that happen, not this time. He could feel that this was the big moment he had so desperately been waiting for for months now and he intended on capitalizing on it, desperate to get his way this time or he might implode. 
“No, really.” Matty trails off in favor of slowing the circle his two fingers were swirling around your wrist, rubbing them up and down in a straight line before pushing down on your pulse point with them. “I insist.”
The action took your breath away, hitching in your throat with a faint gasp that was like music to Matty’s ears, a wolfish grin taking over his face at the sound. You were sure he was imitating what he would do between your legs now, you throbbed at the thought, desperate to feel his hands that you had been so obsessed with for so long running all over your body, trailing down between your legs, collecting the arousal that you know had already started to pool there before sliding in - 
“You should probably go check on those tables now.” Matty winked, releasing his hold on your wrist all together. “Don’t want to keep anyone waiting.”
You nodded slowly, feet glued to their spot on the floor, scared that if you moved that you would melt away from the fire that burned beneath your skin. “Okay.”
And then you were turning on your heels, walking away from the booth on wobbly legs, desperate to catch some air down to your lungs. 
You were so fucking screwed. 
Matty lingered in his booth for the remainder of the night, busying himself with his phone or chatting up elderly women that approached him. You tried not to focus on him and instead gave all your attention to the people that passed through the diner in the remaining hours it was open, ignoring the looks from Ruth you got anytime you passed by her, you didn’t feel like explaining to her or anyone why Matty hadn’t left yet. You weren’t even quite sure if you had an answer. 
You felt more and more nervous as the time on the clock inched closer and closer to closing time, swallowing a lump in your throat when Tony tossed you the keys. “You can lock up when he leaves.”
You nodded, glancing at Matty who was drinking a chocolate milkshake you had passed him half an hour ago, drinking it ever so slowly to try and milk an excuse to stay as everyone else filtered out. 
And then the two of you were alone. 
You were quick to get to work, knowing that if you stopped moving for even half a second that Matty would be on you and you wouldn’t be able to resist. 
You were wiping down tables, back turned to the man that you could hear drying off coffee cups and stacking them neatly on the counter up front. It was nice, not being alone here so late for once, to have help. You were surprised that Matty was actually being helpful, convinced that he had just used it as a line to get you alone and while you were still positive that that was exactly what he had done, at least he was being helpful. 
You finished wiping down the table you were working on, turning your head to glance at Matty over your shoulder. Like a moth drawn to a flame, Matty’s dark eyes immediately found home against your own from across the restaurant, both of you fighting off a smile as you turned away. 
You shook your head softly as you made your way to the booth that Matty had claimed as his own all those months ago, a pink tint on your cheeks as you sprayed over the surface, bending over the table slightly so you could wipe it down - avoiding the chocolate milkshake that Matty had left behind, the glass starting to collect condensation in a ring against the table. You huffed, picking the cup up and wiping away the mess underneath it. 
You held the forgotten milkshake between manicured fingers, standing up, ready to chastise the man for not cleaning up after himself. Turning around with a complaint on your tongue but it died on the tip of it as you were immediately met with the sight of Matty standing in front of you, so close that the tips of his shoes were brushing against your own. You gripped the glass between your fingers tighter to stop yourself from dropping the milkshake to the floor from the way his sudden presence startled you. “Sorry.”
You gulp, staring up at him. When did he get so tall? You were so used to looking down at him sitting in the booth that the height difference had you craning your neck so you could face him, a wave of heat whirling through you at the smell of the cigarette break he had taken earlier still lingering on his clothes. You whisper because that’s how loud you needed to be for him to hear you. “It’s okay.”
Matty grabbed the milkshake from your hand, fingers brushing against your own and lingering for a passing beat before they were gone so he could place the milkshake down on the table behind him. You wanted to complain about how you had just cleaned that table off, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, not when he was staring down at you like he could eat you alive. 
Matty glances over your shoulder, dark eyes glimmering with warning signs as his lips raised in the faintest of smirks. “You missed a spot.”
You gulp, positive that you hadn’t. But there was this underlying need burning inside of you to be good for him, to please. You swallowed thick and hard, staring up at him for a beat before turning around and slowly bending back over the table to wipe it down again, well aware of his burning gaze that fell to the newly exposed skin as your skirt raised from the position you were in. You wiped the surface of the table slowly, allowing him to savor the sight of you bent over in front of him before standing back up and turning around to face him again.
Matty’s eyes were blown out, dark as ever, swimming in desire - a similar feeling thrumming through your veins at the sight. You could feel your resolve getting weaker and weaker with each passing second, crumbling like the ground beneath you as Matty's dark eyes pinned you to the floor. You knew this would happen, impossible to resist him if you had no distractions or excuses to leave. But you still liked to believe that you had some sort of control over the situation, knowing the only way you could keep that control was if you put some distance between the two of you. 
You cleared your throat, stepping off to the side and avoiding eye contact. The action made Matty snort. “I thought we were done pretending.”
Your voice was meek, wavering and breathy as you took another faint step backwards. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“When are you going to give it up?” Matty took a step closer to you, you took another back, could feel the red leather of the edge of the booth grazing against your back. You brought your eyebrows together, crossing your arms over your chest as Matty narrows his dark eyes filled with desire. “This act you’ve got going on where you pretend you don’t want me just as bad as I want you.” Taking another step forward that had you backing up to be flush against the edge of the booth. “I see right through you, I know you fucking want me.” Reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ve got nowhere to run and hide now, darling. Just admit it.”
You use what little leverage you have with his arm up to slide underneath it, slipping into the booth and backing up into it, legs drawn up to your chest as you leaned back on both hands against the leather of the booth - sitting in it sideways so you could face the man who was staring down at you like he had you exactly where he wanted you. 
Matty took a step forward, his knees hitting the side of the booth you were sitting in, you couldn’t stop your eyes from trailing down the expanse of his body like he always did so unashamed with your own. Your tongue growing drier the further down his torso you got, gulping when your eyes landed on the bulge against the denim, eye level. If you were to scoot closer you could easily undo the button of his jeans and take him out so you could wrap your lips around - 
Matty placed one of his veiny hands against the top of the table, ready to steady himself as he raised a knee to the booth, ready to crawl into it with you. You gulped at the sight, scooting back ever so slightly as his other hand reached out to take hold of one of your calves, gently squeezing it before pulling it forward so that it was no longer bent up to your chest.
Your breath hitched in your throat as you watched him maneuver you to be exactly how he wanted you, making it so easy for him,  showing no resistance at all. Matty repeated the action with the other leg, spreading your legs out until they were no longer bent and instead straight against the booth, feet hanging off the side of it and in between his legs as you stared up at him with a pounding heart and throbbing core. 
Matty placed his knee more firmly in the booth, now that he had the room to, the denim of his jeans scratched against your ankle as he leaned forward. 
“Matty.” You warned, voice breathless and desperate. Not even bothering to scoot back, you knew you had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. 
“What, darling?” Matty’s voice was deep, gravely, spoken through a wolfish grin as he crawled into the booth with you. “I won’t bite.”
You gulped, watching him intently as he crawled over you in the cramped space of the booth, the only option to put space between the two of you was to lay back against the booth. You lowered yourself against the red leather and Matty followed, taking his hand off the table in favor of placing it down next to your head, settling above you comfortably and  staring down at you with eyes that you could deem as nothing but black as your breath mixed together in hot, breathy pants. 
Matty’s eyes flickered down to your lips, his tongue reaching out to wet his own. “Tell me you don’t want me.” His voice so deep it was barely there. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
You gulp, shifting against the booth and brushing your thigh against the bulge in his denim, Matty pulled his bottom lip between his teeth at the feeling. Matty stared down at you, allowing nothing but the sound of your breath mixing to bounce against the walls of the diner, giving you time to tell him no. When you didn’t take the bait, Matty smirked, leaning down close enough that a curl that had fallen over was brushing against your forehead. You squirmed against the booth as the silence rang in your ears, driving you insane, wishing that he would say something because you were positive that you couldn’t. 
“Tell me you want me.” Matty begged, bringing his hips down to roll against your own so faint that it did nothing to pleasure either of you, but the action still had you gasping regardless - clenching around nothing and arousal pooling in your underwear. “Right here in this booth and you can have me, darling.” Your core clenches at the nickname. “Or I can leave and we can act like this never happened.”  
You're breathless, still trying to find your voice as Matty’s eyes search your face, lingering on your lips so long that it had you squirming against the red leather of the booth again. Matty takes your silence as rejection, starting to move up, the cold air hitting your face from the lack of his own felt like a cold bucket of water crashing into you, waking you up and making you realize that Matty was about to leave and that simply would not do. 
You grab his face between your palms, pulling him back down over you, where he belongs, crashing your lips against his own in a frantic kiss that already had you feeling hazy minded. It took Matty all of two seconds to register what was happening, quick to match the heat behind your lips and taking control of the kiss, as he did with everything.
You moan into his mouth, Matty took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside, exploring you and nipping your own between his teeth before sucking your bottom lip back until he released it with a pop - only to dive right back in to kiss you with all the passion and desperation that had been building up for months and months. 
You threaded your manicured nails through his dark curls, scratching against his scalp softly as you tried your best to keep up with the bruising kiss, swallowing a groan that Matty spilled into your mouth. And oh, did you love the sound of that. 
Desperate to hear more from him, you raised your hips hoping that he would grind down on you again, Matty bites your bottom lip particularly hard at the feeling, licking over it to soothe the ache that shot down to your core.
You force Matty to swallow a whine, digging your nails through his curls and tugging on them, earning you another deep groan falling from Matty's mouth and flowing into yours. The sound had you kissing him with more fever, desperate and whining into his mouth, licking along his bottom lip before whispering against his lips. “Want you.”
Matty smiles into the kiss, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth and pulling back until it releases with a pop, this time he didn’t dive back in - instead choosing to stare down at you as he caught his breath. 
Your pants mixed together as you stared at one another, desperation dripping in the thick tension of the booth. Your fingers lingered in his curls, giving them a faint tug as you pulled your own bottom lip between your teeth, already raw and swollen from the searing kiss Matty had fixed you with. Matty’s eyes flickered down at the sight, licking his own as he stared before locking his eyes back with your own, a smug smirk starting to creep onto his face.
“Yeah? You want me, baby?” Matty’s voice so deep, full of need and desire. The new pet name had you tugging on his curls once more with a whine, nodding your head against the red leather of the booth, desperate for him to touch you. Matty’s smirk deepened at your reaction to the new nickname, leaning down to kiss you again, mumbling against your lips. “Want me to what?”
You whine, pitiful and desperate, digging your nails against his scalp and earning you a nip at your lip. Matty numbed your mind as he kissed you slow, full of tongue and shared groans.
“Tell me, baby.” You swallow his words that reverberated against your lips, Matty pulled away with a teasing, dangerous look in his eyes. “You want me to leave?”
You whine at the thought, tugging on his hair when he made a show of starting to sit up again, forcing him back down into a searing kiss. “I want to hear you say it.” Matty groans, nipping your bottom lip with his teeth. “Tell me how you want me.”
You couldn’t find the words, whining and squirming in hopes that that would be enough, only finding your voice when Matty pulled away from the kiss again. “Please.”
You hoped the plea would be enough to get his hands on you, you were desperate and aching, the throb between your thighs begging for attention. Matty hummed, tracing his thumb along your bottom lip, smearing some of the mixed spit along your chin. 
“I don’t know what you want unless you tell me, darling.” Matty coos through a smirk. You whine, knowing that he knew exactly what you wanted, he just wanted to hear you say it. “I can’t read your mind.”
You tugged him back down against your mouth, a shared groan mixing before you both swallowed your share of it, tongues exploring one another. Your brain felt like it was melting out of your eyes at the way Matty kissed you, so full of passion and desire. It took one last tug of your bottom lip between his teeth before you mumbled against his lips what he so desperately had been wanting to hear for seven months now. “Fuck me, Matty. Please.”
Matty groaned into your mouth one last time, biting your lip so rough that you feared that it might be bleeding before pulling away and scrambling off of you so fast that you didn’t have time to register that he was off of you until he was grabbing your hips and pulling you down to the edge of the booth. 
You yelp as he manhandled you from his place on his knees on the black and white checkered tile - running his large, warm, addicting hands up the expanse of your thighs. You leaned up on your elbows so you could watch him, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as he peppered a trail of kisses along the inside of your thighs, licking and grazing his teeth against the skin every so often just so he could hear you gasp. 
Matty’s long fingers slipped under the skirt of your uniform, tickling along the waistband of your underwear before hooking in the band of them. You gasp, nerves shooting through you. “You don’t have to.”
This wasn’t your first rodeo, you had been with a list of men prior to Matty and they were all the same, huffing when you asked them to go down on you - ridiculous that you even had to ask, always acting as though it was a chore. You didn’t want Matty to feel like he had to, you weren’t expecting him to, you’d take anything he’d give you.
Matty pulled back the band of your underwear far enough to release it against your skin with a harsh snap, making you hiss as he bit the inside of your thigh as the stunt wore off.
“Do you know how fucking long I’ve wanted to be between your legs?” Matty mumbles against the skin of your inner thigh, licking along a stripe of skin befire digging his teeth in as he hooked his fingers back into the waistband of your underwear. “Dreamed about it every single night for seven months.” Slowly starting to drag them down your thighs as you hold your breath in your throat. “Dreaming of how you’d taste.” Matty whispered, biting softly into your thigh once more before leaning back so he could drag your underwear down your legs the rest of the way, quick to dive back down and lick a long strip up your thigh, stopping right before where you wanted him most. “How you’d feel falling apart on my tongue.”
“Matty.” You whine as he settles between your thighs, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and pushing the other one to open wider for him, giving him more space to make himself more at home on the floor between your legs. “Please. Need you so bad.”
Matty coos, blowing against your core and drinking in the sight of the way you trembled after. “You made me wait months for this and you can’t even wait five fucking minutes.” 
You whine, trying to pull him into you with the leg he had hooked over his shoulder, Matty pinched your hip meanly in return. Squirming against the red leather of the booth, you whine. “Matty.”
“Look at you.” Matty coos. “Haven’t even touched you properly yet and you already sound so pretty for me.”
You preen at his words, tightening your leg around his shoulder out of desperation. This time, however, Matty allows you to pull him into you - your head falling back against the red leather of the booth as his tongue falls out to lick a strip up the middle of your core. 
Matty groans against your folds, the vibrations intensifying the feeling as Matty swirled his tongue, exploring you and moaning at the taste. 
You couldn't lay still, heat already spreading through your veins so rapidly and lighting your skin on fire. You moan freely, breathy through pants as Matty swirls his tongue against your bundle of nerves. 
Matty pulls off long enough to whisper, “You taste,” Diving back in to lick a thick stripe through your folds, moaning against your cunt before pulling back enough to finish his sentence. “so fucking good.” Collecting your arousal with slow, flat strokes. Taking his time with you. “Better than I could have ever imagined.”
You preen at the compliment, a pretty pink blush taking over your cheeks as you squirm against the leather and moaning out. “More.”
Matty pulls off instead, chin wet with a pout, resting his head against your thigh as he catches his breath. “Let me take my time with you, baby.” You whine. “Been waiting for this for so fucking long. Gotta cherish it while I have you.” Matty explains, peppering wet kisses along the inside of your thigh, your arousal drying in the trail as he slowly made his way back to where you wanted him most - mumbling against your thigh. “What if I never get to have you like this ever again? Gotta make it last.”
You whine, squirming. You didn’t like the sound of that, of this being the only time, appalled that he could ever even assume that. “No.”
“No?”
“No.” You whine. “Only you.”
“Yeah?” You could feel Matty’s smile against your thigh. “Only me? I get you all to myself?” You nod, desperate and dripping against the booth, rolling your hips in hopes to find some form of friction only to be stopped by Matty’s hands holding you down. “That’s right, baby. All for me. Only ever me.”
You nod, a broken moan tumbling from your lips as Matty dives back in with a fire under his ass now, the idea of you belonging to him fueling the need to have you falling apart underneath him.
You reached down to take hold of one of his hands that held down your hips, he was quick to thread it with your own, holding onto it as he ate you out like a starved man. 
Matty moans against you, pushing the leg that wasn’t thrown over his shoulder more open so he’d have more room to work. “So pretty.” Matty mumbled against your cunt, pulling off with a kiss to your clit. “Pretty girl, pretty pussy.” He fits his lips around your clit and sucks, a broken moan ripped from your throat at the feeling, lifting your hips slightly and smearing more wetness across his chin. 
You could feel a familiar heat coiling in your stomach, shocked to feel it so soon. Gasping as his tongue slipped inside of you, nose brushing against your clit and causing your eyes to roll back into your skull. “Matty, fuck, I’m close.”
Matty doubled his efforts on you at your words, tongue fucking into you, sliding out so he could suck your bundle of nerves into his mouth, grazing his teeth against it ever so slightly and causing your hips to just. “Give it to me.” Matty mumbles against your cunt, the vibrations causing your eyes to roll back in your skull once more. “Cum for me, baby. Wanna feel you fall apart on my tongue.”
You whine, swallowing thickly as Matty doubled his efforts on your clit, tongue swiping across it in a pace that had you gripping his hand in your own in a tight squeeze that mirrored the squeeze of your thigh around his head. Matty sucked the bundle of nerves into his mouth one last time before you were crashing and burning against his tongue. 
Matty smiled against your cunt as you fell apart under him, body trembling and moaning his name like it was gospel as Matty continued to lick and suck his way through your high, only pulling off when your legs stopped convulsing in favor of laying slack and restless from the intensity of your orgasm. 
Matty didn’t let you bask in the glow for long, wiping his wet chin with the back of his hand before grabbing the leg that wasn’t thrown over his shoulder in his hand, slowly pushing it up and not stopping the journey until it was hooked over the back of the booth - his dark eyes drinking in the sight of you on full display for him, cunt still fluttering from the crash and burn it just endured.  
You were sure that he was going to stand up, get ready to fuck you, so you couldn’t help but allow your eyebrows to scrunch together when you felt him lean in and lick a slow, thick strip up your fluttering cunt.
“Matty.” You whine with a pout, so desperate to feel him inside of you. “Want you to fuck me.”
“I know, pretty baby.” Matty coos against your folds, swirling his tongue over your swollen clit before placing a soft kiss against it, pulling away and resting his head against your thigh. “You tasted so good, sounded so pretty for me, baby, I just want to do it one more time.” You whine, squirming against the red leather of the booth. “Will you let me do that, baby? Then I promise to give you what you want.” 
Matty trailed two fingers down from your hip, blunt nails scratching against your hot skin ever so slightly on their journey down between your thighs, running them through your folds to collect the wetness there before resting them against your entrance. You felt lightheaded at the feeling of his long, thick, calloused fingers teasing against your hole that clenched in anticipation - rolling your hips to try and force them inside of you. 
Matty grazes his teeth against the inside of your thigh, sticking his tongue out to lick his way back home to your cunt, swirling around your clit as he slowly pushes two of his fingers inside of you. You gasped at the stretch, holding the gasp in the back of your throat as Matty bottoms them out to his knuckles, slowly swirling a tongue against your swollen, sensitive clit as he allowed you to get used to the stretch. He waited until you were rolling your hips out of desperation for him to move before he pulled his fingers out of you just as slowly as he entered, your walls clenching from the emptiness as he pulled out, teeth grazing against your clit as he slowly pushed back in - halting once he pushed up to his knuckles. 
“Matty.” You groan, rolling your head against the booth and palming your breasts over your uniform, so much tension built up inside of you that you needed to find a way to release it. “More.”
Matty smiled against your folds, sucking your clit into his mouth and pulling back until it slipped from between his lips, locking eyes with you before dribbling spit from his mouth and onto your cunt, all over his fingers. You whine at the obscene sight before you, clenching around his unmoving fingers and rolling your hips, desperate to feel mind numbing pleasure like before.
Matty leaned back down to lick his spit mixed with your slick, tip of his perfect nose rubbing against your clit as he licked around his unmoving fingers. “Matty.” You whine, so desperate for him to move, the feeling of being so full with no reward was making you lightheaded. “Fuck me. Please.”
That seemed to be what Matty was waiting on, shifting on his knees on the floor beneath him before fucking into you in a pace that had you throwing your head back against the booth and whining through desperate gasps of air, none of it actually reaching your lungs as Matty fucked you hard and fast - the wet sounds that filled the diner were nothing but pornographic as your moans mixed together in a beautiful symphony of lust and desire. 
“Fuck.” You cry, eyes rolling back when Matty’s impossibly long fingers curled, hitting that heavenly spot inside of you that had you moaning his name like it was all you knew. 
Matty smiled against your cunt, swirling his tongue around your clit as your walls fluttered around his fingers, relishing in the sounds you were making for him - feeling drunk on pussy, your breathy moans and addictive whines. 
You rolled your hips down, grinding on his face and meeting some of his thrusts when your paces aligned just right. Matty doubled his efforts on you, could tell that you were close by the way you were clenching around him, sucking your clit between his lips and curling his fingers perfectly. You didn’t even have time to give him a verbal warning this time before you were crashing and burning, skin on fire as your body shook against the booth with the intensity of your orgasm.
Matty fucked you through your high, not as fast as he had been but still enough to prolong it, moaning against your cunt as your aftershocks rolled through you. You whined pitifully, sensitive and exhausted. 
Matty placed one last kiss to your clit before slowly pulling his fingers out of you, turning his head to suck a bruise into your inner thigh as he stretched his arm up to your mouth so you could suck his fingers coated in your slick into your mouth, you moan around his digits pornographically, swirling your tongue around them as Matty groaned against your thigh at the feeling.
Matty pulled off of your thigh when he was satisfied with the deep purple bruise that he had sucked into it, trailing open mouth kisses up the expanse of it as he made his way up from his knees. Kissing along your arms, the side of your neck, before slipping his fingers from your mouth in favor of gripping your jaw with them - your spit smearing against your chin as Matty pulled you in for a hungry kiss. 
You liked how you tasted on his tongue even better than his fingers, moaning into his mouth as he kissed you with fever, gripping your jaw tight as he pulled off to lick down the side of your neck - forcing it to the side so he could kiss up it with more room. Grazing his teeth against your pulse points and licking a thick strip up the side of it until he reached your ear lobe, pulling it between his teeth and breathing hotly into your ear before whispering. “You did so fucking good for me, pretty baby.” You whine at the praise, preening underneath him and clenching around nothing. “Such a good girl, you want me to fuck you?”
You thrashed against the red leather of the booth, clenching and pleading for him. Matty smiled down at you, undressing you from your uniform, tossing it behind him before hooking his arms around you and lifting you up, splaying you out on the table of the booth rather than the seat of it - a better angle for him considering the table was the same height as his hips. You gasped at the cold feeling of the table against your naked back, writhing against the table as Matty trailed his calloused fingers along your thighs, splaying his hand out on it and spreading your legs wider for him. 
“You ready for me, baby?” He dragged two of his fingers through the wetness of your folds, your body jolted at the feeling, so sensitive from already having two orgasms. Matty smiled down at you, condescending and powerful. “Think you can handle it?”
“Yes.” You whined, so desperate for it. Watching Matty undo his jeans through half lidded eyes, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you watched his skilled fingers slide down the zipper of the denim, dragging his hand into his boxers to take hold of himself but not revealing it to you. Putting on a show as he tipped his head back in a groan, wetting his bottom lip with his tongue as he pulled strokes over himself inside of the black cotton. You weren’t sure whether to watch his face as he pumped himself or stare at the movement hidden behind the boxers, imagining what it might look like. “Yes, I can handle it. Matty, please. Fuck me, please.” 
You trailed off pleading, Matty smirked through it all, continuing to stroke himself beneath the band of his boxers for a few more strokes before pulling himself out of confinement. You moaned at the sight as Matty hissed from the cold air hitting him. Your eyes drank in the sight of his hand wrapped around himself, passing over the length and squeezing when he got close to the tip. 
You were panting, maybe you were drooling too, you weren’t sure - so desperate for him to fuck you that you couldn’t find it in you to care. “Matty, please.”
A smirk that could only be read as dangerous spread across Matty’s face as he took a step forward, running his tip through your folds once, the feeling already had your eyes rolling back into your skull and he hadn’t even started pushing in yet. Matty held his tip at your entrance, barely dipping into it before leaning over your body that writhed against the table, rolling your hips desperately to try to bring him deeper inside of you. Matty tsked, kissing up the expanse of your neck, digging his canine teeth into the side of it before whispering in your ear. “Do you think you deserve it?”
You whine, pitiful and desperate. Finally fulfilling his promise of making you eat those words that you had continuously teased him with time after time, cursing yourself for ever muttering the words now that he was throwing them back in your face. You writhed against the cool table, rolling your head to the side to capture his mouth in a dirty kiss that you hoped would convince him. 
Matty’s tongue rolled against your own in a numb numbing fashion, melting your brain out of your ears as he grinded down out of instinct, pushing his tip ever so slightly further inside of you but not near enough to give you the stretch that you needed. 
“Do you?” Matty mumbled against your lips, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth, pulling it back and releasing it with a pop, staring down at you with dark eyes that held all the power in the world. “After turning me down for months, you want me to give you what you want the first time you ask for it?” Matty’s smile is condescending, leaning back so he could look down at you on display for him, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he ran his tip through your folds once more. “Greedy fucking girl.”
“Matty.” You whine, throbbing and aching for something, anything. Matty pulls away from you all together, taking a slight step backwards and back to start stroking himself again slowly, you whine at the loss. 
“I want to hear you beg for it.” Matty’s voice was rough, deep, commanding. “You made me beg for months, I want to hear you beg for my cock.” You whine, his words shot straight down to your core. “Beg for it because you could have had it this entire time.” You felt silly for ever rejecting him now that you knew he had a mouth like this on him. Matty reached down to grip your jaw between his thumb and middle finger, running his pointer along your bottom lip, pushing it past your lips that were a darker shade than normal from being kissed and bitten raw. You accepted the finger happily, humming around the digit as your tongue swirled. Matty groaned, tightening his hold on your jaw. “But you wanted to be stubborn, isn’t that right, darling?”
You nodded with his finger in your mouth, grazing your teeth against his digit before slurring your pleas around it. “Please, please, fuck me. I need you so bad. Please.”
Matty it was the way it all came out in a garbled mess, or maybe it was how pretty you looked with your bitten raw lips wrapped around his finger but it was probably the fact that Matty had been waiting for this moment for seven months now - pulling his bottom lip between his teeth before lining himself up and slowly pushing into you. His groan mixed together with your whine in a beautiful harmony as he bottomed out inside of you, hissing as he did so. “Fuck, so fucking tight around me. Shit.”
Your mouth was hanging open, eyebrows scrunched together as you adjusted to the stretch of him inside of you, already feeling so full and skin on fire. You clench around him, both of you falling into a groan at the feeling. “Fuck.”
Matty held a vice grip on your hip as he slowly pulled out of you, the drag against your walls mind numbing, not wasting any time to slide back into you in a pace just as slow. “You feel so fucking good wrapped around me, baby, fuck. So fucking good for me, you’re doing so good.” 
You preen under the praise, clenching your walls around him and begging him to go faster. Matty was quick to accommodate you, pulling out just as slow as he had before to just the tip before snapping his hip back into you. You rolled your head to the side at the feeling of him properly fucking you now, eyes fluttering shut from the overwhelming feeling of his hips slamming against your own - breathy moans mixed with the slapping of skin and filling the vacant diner. 
Matty’s hand found home back against your jaw, gripping it and forcing your head back straight. “Look at me.” You struggled to open your eyes, the lids fighting to close again as the pleasure bloomed behind them. “Want you to watch me make you fall apart on my cock.”
You whine, pitiful as ever, clenching around him and making his hips stutter in the process but he was quick to regain his footing. “Fuck, I dreamed of the day I’d get to have you like this, fucking purring underneath me and taking me so well. Just like you were made for me.”  His hips picked up in pace, mind numbing and overwhelming. “Would have laid you out on this table that very first night if you had let me, I wanted to. It’s all I thought about for the entire week, I didn’t sleep a wink. I knew I had to come back for more. Fuck.” Matty groaned, thrusting into you harder now. “Every time I saw you hike your little skirt up before walking over to me, I just wanted to bend you over this booth and take you in front of everyone in that diner to see.” 
You whine at the thought, wrapping your legs around his waist and tugging him in closer to you, making him fuck you with a new angle that was impossibly deeper - hitting that heavenly spot inside of you with each thrust and making your eyes roll back into your skull. “Oh my god.” 
“But they’ll never see you fall apart like I do, isn’t that right, sweetheart?” Blunt fingernails digging into your hip as he railed into you with a pace that took your breath away. “I’m the only one who gets to hear your pretty little moans.” The mention of them had him pulling one out of you. Matty leaned back to watched the way he fucked you, drunk on the sight of his dick disappearing inside of you. “The only one who gets to feel this pretty pussy throbbing around ‘em.”
A broken moan rips from your throat at his filthy words, writhing against the table with a gasp when his calloused fingers find home against your clit, rubbing tight circles against the swollen and sensitive bundle of nerves. You could already feel that familiar coil tightening inside of you, could tell Matty was getting close too by the way his hips faltered. 
“Fuck, baby.” Matty groans, fingers flying across your clit as his hips slammed into you. “I’m so fucking close.” You nodded in agreement, could feel your toes growing numb from how hard you were curling them as the pleasure bloomed through you and lit your skin on fire. “Where do you want me?”
“Inside.” You whine, clenching around him at the thought, wanting nothing more than to feel his cum dripping out of you when this was all over with. “Wanna feel you.”
“Fuck, yeah?” Matty hissed, fucking into you impossibly quicker now, causing your head to fall back in a groan. “You want me to fill you up, baby?” You nod, desperate and on the brink of tipping over the edge. “Yeah? Want me to make you all mine?” 
Fuck. You loved the sound of that, being all Matty’s. “Please.”
“Okay, pretty girl.” Matty promised, pressing harder against your clit. “Need you to cum for me first, though. Can you do that for me? I know you can, you’re such a good girl.”
Your mouth dropped open in a gasp that turned into a moan mixed whine of his name as you barreled closer and closer to your inevitable end. You could feel electricity coursing through your veins, igniting the coil that was tightening in your stomach.
“Show me how good you can be, darling.” Matty encourages you, fingers flying against your clit and snapping his hips into you at a mind numbing pace. “Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my cock, make a fucking mess.”
You couldn’t even make any sounds as your third orgasm crashed into you, the most intense one yet. Your walls clenching and fluttering around him as the dam snapped inside of you, immense, indescribable pleasure flooding under your overheated skin as Matty fucked you through your high. 
A breathy whine tumbled from Matty’s lips that he was biting raw from the feeling of you falling apart on him, overwhelmed and so close to the edge himself. You were panting, desperate to catch your breath as your aftershock rolled through you, mustering up what little energy you could find to reach your hands up so you could hold his face in your own, pulling it down to melt against your own. 
You both were rather useless in the kiss, but it didn’t matter, both of you needing to feel their lips against the other to feel more grounded, panting into each other's mouths as Matty’s hips stuttered as you licked lazy along his bottom lip. “Wanna feel you, please.” Matty groaned, nipping at your bottom lip as he slammed into you, chasing his release. “Come on, give me what I want. Cum in me, Matty.”
A broken whine ripped from Matty’s throat as his face broke out in pleasure, two more thrusts and he was spilling inside of you. “Shit - oh, fuck baby. Oh my god.”
A lazy smile spread over your face with a faint moan tumbling from your lips at the feeling of Matty filling you up. Making you his. Finally. 
Matty fell over you, fucking into you lazily as he rode out his high, whining into your ear and nibbling on the lobe until he was done crashing and burning. The two of you laid wrapped up in one another for what felt like hours, mixing breathy pants and sweat as you relished in the feeling of finally being able to do what should have been done that first night he walked in. 
Matty kissed behind your ear, starting a lazy trail along the side of your neck, across your jaw, around to your chin before eventually finding home against your mouth and melting against one another. 
You weren’t too sure how long the two of you were wrapped up in lazy tongues and hushed whispers, all you knew was it felt like a lifetime, never wanting the moment to come to an end but knowing it had to eventually. 
After a few more shared kisses and whispered compliments, Matty was slowly pulling out of you, an action you both hissed at. You whined at the empty feeling, eyes rolling back slightly at the feeling of him starting to drip out of you. You stared at Matty through half lidded eyes as he leaned back to watch the way his cum slowly dripped out of your core, mesmerized with a smirk playing on his lips. 
Matty couldn’t help but drag two of his fingers through the mess, making you whimper from the sensitivity as he collected his cum mixed with your juices on two of his fingers, staring into your eyes as he stuck his tongue out to clean his digits off - groaning at the taste with a roll of his dark eyes. 
You squirmed as you watched the obscenity unfold before you, swallowing thickly and wishing you knew what the mix of you tasted like. Almost as if he had read your mind, Matty hummed. “You wanna taste, darling?”
You nodded, desperate and whining. Matty nodded with a smirk. “Open up then.”
You were quick to open your jaw, sticking your tongue out, staring at him with doe eyes as he groaned at the sight - quick to collect more of his cum that had dripped out of you and mixed with your own leftover arousal. You expected Matty to bring his fingers up to your mouth so you could suck them clean, so you were confused when he brought them up to his own mouth, sticking his tongue out in a pornographic way to lick them clean. 
You watched him intently as he stared down at you with a shameless smirk, heat swirling in your stomach as he leaned down, gripping your jaw between his wet fingers and spitting the load into your mouth. You whined at the action, eyes rolling back in your skull as your tongue got coated in a mix of shared cum and Matty’s spit. “Swallow.” 
You didn’t hesitate, closing your mouth and swallowing it down in one go, you could feel it burning the entire way down. “Good girl.” Matty coos, tracing a finger along your bottom lip softly. “Now, let's get you all cleaned up.”
You were leaning against the side of your car, Matty towered over you with his hand on your hood, a playful, flirtatious smile playing on both of your lips - shy and high on shared feelings and emotions. “I guess I’ll see you in a week then.”
Matty’s smile deepens. “Yeah, I guess so.” Leaning in to kiss your forehead softly before capturing your lips next. You hummed against his warm mouth, feeling as though you were floating on cloud nine. “Thanks for the number, by the way. Only three more to go.”
You smiled wide with pink cheeks, recalling back to the number you had written next to the already existing ones. 822-993 and a bright new 1 making home amongst the others. “Yeah, well, you earned it.”
Matty snorts, shaking his head and laughing into your hair as he places a kiss to the side of your head. “I’ll see you around, love.”
You nodded your head, allowing him to open the door to your car for you so you could slide in, his hand lingering on the open door as you buckled yourself in. “Goodbye, Matty.”
“Bye, darling.”
You weren’t expecting to see Matty for another week, expecting to fall back easily into your regular routine with one another, so you were surprised to come out of the kitchen the following afternoon and see Matty sitting in his regular booth with his hand folded against the table, thrumming his fingers alongside the back of them as he waited patiently for you.
You felt your brows furrow together in confusion as your converse clad feet carried you across the black and white tile of the all too familiar booth, memories of the night before burned behind your eyelids the closer you got to it. “Are you confused?”
Matty must have been so deep in thought that he hadn’t even noticed your presence, jumping slightly at the sound of your voice but quickly recovering with an easy smile spreading over his face at the sight of you. “No, why?”
“Well,” You tilted your head to the side. “It's Thursday, you saw me yesterday, you couldn’t possibly want to eat another burger so soon.”
Matty’s smile quickly faded into a smirk as he looked you up and down, undressing you with his eyes - an action he had done more times than you could count, yet now he actually knew what was hidden underneath. “A burger? No.” Matty shook his head, locking eyes with you and raising a brow. “You on the other hand, I’d love to take another bite of.”
You blushed easily, unashamed to show how his words affected you after the events that unfolded the previous night. “What would you like to order then?” You spoke easy and unwavering, pulling your notepad and pen from your apron to take down his order for the first time in months, fixing the man with a look to stop the joke before it even had the opportunity to leave his mouth. “I’m not on the menu.”
Matty tsked, snapping his fingers together out of disappointment and causing a soft giggle to pour from you. “Well, I guess just get me some pancakes then if I can’t have what I really want.” Matty sighed, dramatic as ever, you shook your head as you continued to giggle. 
“You got it.” 
Thursdays were more busy than Wednesdays, meaning that you barely had time to listen to what new creative pick up lines Matty could come up with on the spot, apologizing with a sad smile when you came to deliver his check. 
“Don’t worry about it.” Matty waves it off, smiling and eyes gleaming. “Just happy to get to see my girl any chance I get.”
You blush hard and fast, dropping your head to hide your face as best as you could. His girl. You quite liked the sound of that and how easy it fell from his tongue, making you feel more confident about what you had written on the bottom of his receipt, sliding it over to him and  fighting off a smile as Matty read over it - his thick eyebrows coming together in the confused way that you expected them to.
“Is there a specific reason that you wrote 670 on the bottom of this?” Matty questioned, eyes still glued to the numbers you had etched in black ink before walking over here. “I mean, clearly there is because there's a heart next to them.” Matty spoke his thought process outloud, causing you to snort through a laugh. He looked up at you with soft but puzzled eyes. “What does this mean?”
You shrug, smiling innocently. “Oh, I don’t know.” You drew out, batting your eyelashes and rocking back and forth on your feet. “Maybe you should combine them with some other numbers you have sitting in your wallet.”
The grin that spread across Matty’s face split it in two, a pink tint overtaking his own cheeks as he stared down at the final three digits of your phone number in disbelief. “I can’t believe this is real.” Scratching the back of his head before raising it in the air in a fist, pumping it in celebration. “We fucking did it, boys!”
You thought that he was just being silly, but you were surprised and shocked to hear hooping and hollering from back in the kitchen, turning around to glance in the direction and laughing at the sight of Nick, Ricky and Ruth all watching through the serving window with cheerful smiles - quick to duck underneath it now that you were looking at them. You stayed turned around for a beat, processing the fact that sometime between all of his visits he had formed a friendship with the three of them, scheming behind your back and somehow you had no idea.  
You turned back around to face Matty, fighting off a smile with puzzled eyes as you opened your mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words, pointing behind you in the direction of the kitchen. 
“No time for questions, sweetheart. This is a very big moment for me.” Matty waved you off, already having his phone pulled out so he could create a contact for you, the sight of his excitement has the questions dying in your throat, watching him type your number in with a smile. “Wow.” Matty sighed, saving the contact to his phone and locking it, tossing it to the side and now facing you with a smirk that told you he was about to make an awful joke. “I fucked you so good last night that I got a digit for each time I made you cum.”
Your mouth dropped open in shock, eyes wide as you looked around to make sure nobody had overhead him. “We are in public.” You scolded, but the blush on your cheeks contradicted it. “This is a family establishment.”
Matty gave you a crooked smile, dark eyes running along the expanse of your frame and raising an eyebrow when he arrived back at your eyes. “Family establishment.” Matty mocks with a snort. “That didn’t stop you from taking my dic-”
“Alright.” You cut him off with wide, pointed eyes. Matty laughed easily, bringing his tongue out to lick along his bottom lip as he smiled, holding his bottom lip between his teeth. “Are you quite finished?”
“I don’t know.” Matty shrugged. “Are you? Don’t you still have a few more rounds left to go? Or am I remembering wrong?”
You huff a deep breath from your nose, forcing your mouth into a tight line, not giving him the satisfaction of the laugh that threatened to spill from you. You closed your eyes, counting to ten before reopening them, giving him an overly bright smile, ready to run and hide in the kitchen - feeling like nothing had changed, still that same flustered girl you were before as you tilted your head down at him. “Goodbye, Matty.”
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think0fmehigh · 12 days
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sidelines (nothing to prove)
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‘til you came into my life, gave me something to lose.
prof matty lore fic (first meeting, first time, the progression of their relationship, etc.) ♡
this will be my last fic for the foreseeable future, so i wanted to make sure it was something very special. i love you guys so much. thank you for everything.
professor!matty x female reader
your dubious decision to sleep with your professor leads you to the kind of love you’ve always dreamed of.
also thank you @noacfslut for all the help & encouragement (this fic actually took me tf out lmao) ilysm elle!!
warnings: 18+ (mdni), teacher/student relationship, problematic age gap, dom!matty, sub!reader, unprotected sex, tensionnn, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, corruption kink, masturbation, praise, dumbification, sir kink, (minimal) daddy kink, exhibitionism
wc: 10165
The unconventional relationship with your professor didn’t necessarily happen on purpose. Your college advisor insisted that you needed to take one more humanities class for the credits and you searched for one that you hoped would be an easy A. You took the plunge, signing up for a music theory class that next fall. There wasn’t an ounce of musical knowledge in your brain and you kind of regretted the decision a few weeks before summer ended. You powered through anyway. 
When you walked into the class that first day, you didn’t think that the man at the front of the room would eventually change your life. 
Matty sat there at his desk, typing away on his laptop as students flocked into the lecture hall. Most were students he’d never seen before, which he quite liked about teaching a beginner class. Always fresh faces. It made the job somewhat less dull. 
His attention went away from the screen as you entered the room, eyes flicking to yours when he saw your plaid skirt in his peripheral vision. You clutched onto the few books in your arms nervously, studying his strong features. Fuck, he was hot. 
He swallowed a lump in his throat, trying not to drag his gaze to the hem of your short skirt and the black nylon underneath. Never has he been this fascinated with a student, and he only just caught you in his line of sight. 
You didn’t really think much of his blank expression and gave him a sheepish grin, walking quickly over to an empty seat. To be honest, he looked rather annoyed by your presence. Perhaps he was hot, but maybe he was another asshole professor that’ll make you want to rip your hair out by the end of the semester. 
In reality, Professor Healy wasn’t bad by any sort. He just wasn’t the type of professor to talk and joke with students, knowing he was just another dull professor teaching a boring class. He knew his students had other classes far more important to them and usually expected to receive very half-assed work. What he really takes pride in anyway is his actual teaching. He could see that students were able to understand new concepts easily and many of them appreciated his abilities, or so they said on the professor evaluation at the end of the course. Every day of his job was a routine, an endless cycle. 
Until he had you in his class. You were different. 
You’d turn in all your work on time, you were punctual, never missed a lecture. The assignments weren’t done poorly either, had good insight on different topics and you clearly stayed on top of learning notes and key signatures. He’d been quietly observing you, which made him feel like a bit of a pervert but he couldn’t help it. The way you dressed like one of his wet dreams—tight fitting sweaters and skirts—the clear intelligence you displayed, the innocence radiating off of you like an aura. God, he was fucked. 
One day you asked him a question. It was the first time he held eye contact with you for more than a couple of seconds. As you approached his desk, you looked down at him with bright eyes, assignment clutched in your hands. You flashed a smile at him, at that point knowing he was a kind man. You weren’t the type to ask questions and usually figured things out yourself, but this stupid thing was on the exam and you had no idea how to do it. Professor Healy seemed nice enough to explain it to you without getting annoyed. 
You took a sharp breath in before you opened your mouth to speak. Up close, you could see the graying streaks in his hair and the deep brown of his irises. How his eyelashes brushed against his cheeks when he blinked, pearly whites smiling back at you. The detail of the wireframes that rested on his nose, the (also graying) strip of hair above his lips. He was gorgeous. 
“Um—hi, sorry to bother. I was just wondering if you could explain this one question to me. All of this is new to me, so I’m a little lost…” you said, cocking your head as you anxiously chewed the inside of your cheek. 
He found you so endearing, letting out a little chuckle at your politeness. “Ah, that’s what m’here to help with. It’s not a bother.” He motioned for you to set down the paper on his desk. “Which one are you stuck on?” 
“This one.” Your manicured nail pointed to the troublesome question. “Notate the triad, given the root and the type.” 
Matty hummed, pushing his glasses up his nose. He wrote some chicken scratch on your paper to help as he explained the topic in detail. You listened thoroughly, finally understanding the question—but you also couldn’t help but focus on the way his lips moved. Or how he glanced up at you ever so slightly after every couple of sentences. 
“Does that make a bit more sense?” His hands were clammy as he wiped them on his trousers. He was beside himself; why was he so affected by you and only you? 
“Yes, it does, thank you so much, Professor.” You beamed at him, quite happy you could complete this assignment now, but also pleased by his reaction to you calling him by his own damn title. He stiffened a bit, trying to play it off with a small smile. 
“‘Course, glad you’ve got it now,” he mumbled, looking back over at his computer screen as you returned to your seat. He used every ounce of self-control to stop himself from staring at your backside. 
Over the next few weeks, you found yourself staring at Professor Healy more often than not. Even when he wasn’t lecturing, just sitting at his desk. You’d get distracted and watch him furrow his brows as he read something on his laptop or sipped Coca-Cola from a can, swiping his tongue over his lips after each gulp.  
You felt like a horny teenager getting all flustered just by looking at your teacher. He probably had a wife and kids at home yet you were sitting in his class with your thighs clenched together, mesmerized by his smooth accent. You’d chew on the tip of your pen, studying the way his sweater fit around his muscles and not the notes on the board. You didn’t give a flying fuck about music theory, but this man had you walking to his class with a giddy smile. 
Then there was the day he caught you staring at him. He was cleaning his glasses with his sweater—the hem of it raising just a bit. His eyes met yours suddenly, like he knew you were watching. You swore you saw some blue on his hip but you had quickly looked away out of embarrassment, fierce heat traveling up your neck and cheeks. His little chuckle as he put his glasses back on told you that he knew you were just drooling over him. It was obvious. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why were you always making a fool out of yourself? 
You managed to divert your eyes away from him for the entire duration of the class. The shade of blue etched into his skin flooded your mind in shallow waves. He dismissed class and you planned to swoop up your bag and exit the classroom as fast as possible, but of course, he called your name. 
Your heart dropped to your stomach as you stopped in your tracks, all the other students eyeing you as they left. He was looking at you expectantly through the crowd, one eyebrow raised. “Just need to chat about the most recent exam.”
Oh, lovely. And on top of all that you bombed the most recent exam—what else would he have wanted to pull you aside for? 
You nodded hesitantly, gripping the strap of your bag tightly as you walked towards him. The room was silent, all of the other students were already out of the lecture hall. “Did I really do that bad?” 
Your squeaky voice had him chuckling lightly. “No! No, not at all. I actually wanted to talk to you about how impressed I am with your work.” 
Your shoulders relaxed as relief washed over you. “Oh, um—“ He motioned to the stool next to the desk and you sat down shakily, setting your bag on the floor beside you as you tried to formulate words. “Uh, thank you.” 
“I’m sorry if I made you nervous. I just—just really wanted you to know that you’ve already become one of m’best students,” he said, looking down at a pile of the class’s work. “It sounds like I’m lying I know, but not a lot of students put much energy into this class.” 
You played with your thumbs in your lap, not used to that kind of recognition, especially not from the teacher who had caught you ogling at him half an hour prior. Maybe he didn’t notice like you thought he had? You appreciated his compliments anyway. 
He continued to ramble, not that you minded; his voice was music to your ears. “Now, I don’t have the examples of the work ‘cos it’s all in my office. Well, I guess you could come with me if you want. Not sure if you have the time.” He looked at you apologetically, not wanting to take up your time. You smiled at him. This was your last class of the day and you had all the time in the world—why not spend it with your hot professor?
Your choice to follow him to his office that day was well rewarded. Hearing him praise you for your work in a space that had his life splattered all over it was mind-boggling. There was no shortage of the smell of his cologne and aftershave either, but you were willingly engulfed in his scent. You noticed there were no framed pictures of kids or a wife, no ring on his left hand…it all just tempted you more. There wasn’t even a home to wreck. 
“Right, suppose I should show you the exam first, hm?” He said more to himself than you as he shuffled through the stack of files on his desk. You were seated on a chair in front of his desk, shifting in it as you watched his hands glide across the papers. He took one out of the stack. “Ah, here.” 
A big red A was written at the top. “Just brilliant work, love.”
You swallowed a lump in your throat as you looked him in the eye. No trace of insincerity in sight. A sense of pride and accomplishment ran through your body, he really meant his words. But with him calling you love without hesitation — it was hard to pay much attention to his comments about your exam. You wanted to pay attention to other things, have him praise you in ways very different from this. “I’m really glad I was able to impress you, Professor.” You let out a soft laugh, scanning over your own insights on each question. 
A warm smile spread across his face, the crinkles next to his eyes still noticeable under his glasses. “Keep up the great work, I mean everything m’saying.” He extended his arm to hand you your marked exam to keep. This was much earlier than any other student would’ve received their feedback. You allowed your hand to touch his for a second. Some kind of way for you to know he was real. “And please, you can just call me Matty, darlin’.” 
You couldn’t help but giggle at his sweetness. “Okay, thank you, Matty.” 
The conversation only lasted a few more minutes, closing off with him muttering something about having to get his car from the shop. You thanked him once more before parting ways, your exam clutched tightly in your hand.
You’d managed to get through your little meeting with Matty, but that evening your thoughts were in a frenzy. As you were finishing some of your homework, you got distracted looking through one of your folders. You found the assignment that you had asked Matty for help on.
You traced your finger over the messy words he’d written in jet-black ink, sighing to yourself. It was rare for you to be so entranced by a man, and of course this time he had to be your fucking professor. You roughly tossed the notebook aside, hiding your face in your hands and groaning. Yes, exactly! He’s your professor, stop thinking about him like this! Your brain screamed at you, laying out every possible path this situation could go down. You wanted to bash your head against a wall, this shouldn’t have stressed you out so much. 
But he was so attractive—tattoos peeking out of his ironed dress shirts every time he wore one, veiny hands sliding across the edges of his podium as he spoke during lectures. What would they feel like against your body? It was a question you were dying to know the answer to. 
A question you thought about when you dragged a hand down your body later that night, your flimsy t-shirt doing nothing to conceal your peaked nipples poking through. You leaned your head back against your pillows, praying your dorm mate would stay out just an hour longer. 
You sighed as you relaxed your tense body against your mattress, sliding your fingers under the waistband of your underwear.  Matty wasn’t innocent in any of this either and he certainly wasn’t great at hiding his devilish attraction to you either. The way his eyes lingered in places they shouldn't have, it was hard to miss. You knew his hands would’ve felt so much better against you, working you skillfully until you crumbled underneath him. It was torture that you didn’t have him here beside you.
Thoughts of his tongue, his fingers, and the newly discovered tattoo on his lower stomach all swirled in your mind. Filthy, sinful images spread behind your eyelids like wildfire, a dream you couldn’t wake up from. You dipped a finger into your pool of arousal, gasping at the sharp burst of pleasure as you swiped at your clit. Maybe you were even more affected by this man than you originally thought. You circled and rubbed and pinched at your bundle of nerves until you came in your underwear, not even bothering to fuck yourself with your fingers. They wouldn’t satisfy your desire for him, you hopelessly learned that a while ago. The orgasm would be enough to get you out of the headlock Professor Healy somehow had you in. At least for the rest of that night. 
As you cleaned up in the bathroom and got ready to take a shower, you felt disgusting. If he knew you were getting off to the thought of him he’d never look you in the eye again. You were gagging for a dick you weren’t supposed to be thinking about. 
Little did you know, Matty had his hand wrapped around his cock thinking of you—and just like you—nothing was enough to satisfy him. He needed to have you here with him. Even if it was wrong of him, even if you were a goddamn student of his, it seemed like he’d die if he couldn’t get his hands on your body. He wanted to take care of you already, make you his. 
After being tremendously distracted by Professor Healy’s tight-fitting shirt during today’s lecture, you’d forgotten your phone on your desk. Typical. 
It wasn’t like you didn’t immediately realize or anything, you did, and promptly waltzed back into the now empty lecture hall. Matty was leaning back in his chair behind the desk, eyes shut as he raked a hand through his dark curls. “Fuck,” he mumbled quietly, almost a moan. A pulse of heat ran through your core. His brows knit together in a line and you couldn’t help but stare at him for a little while longer, eyes exploring the shape of his outline for a moment. The fabric of his shirt strained against his muscles as he stretched, keeping you in a trance. 
But that was when you saw it—the large tent in his slacks. Your small intake of breath at the sight must’ve made him sense your presence, his eyes opening as he immediately sat up with rigid posture. He stealthily pulled his chair in all the way, shielding his hard-on. 
You pretended you weren’t gawking at him, like you’d just came in a second ago, eyes scanning the seats of the class. “Sorry, I left my phone at my desk.” Your voice was shaky, guilty. You realized how tense you’d gotten as you quickly walked over to your spot, seeing your phone resting right where you left it. Thank god. 
You retrieved the device, spinning around again to face him, only to find him already staring you down. He gave you a half smile, squinting his dark eyes at you. “Too distracted during class and forgot your phone, huh?” 
It was just a matter of time until you’d find yourself in this position with him, right? Luckily, you were ready for it. Your brows scrunched in faux confusion and your belly burned with shame from being caught swooning over your professor during class.  You decided to play dumb, honestly wanting him to just call you out already. “Sorry?” 
He shook his head, seemingly regretting conversing with you at all. He shifted in his chair, avoiding your gaze. “Ah, it’s nothing, love. Have a good rest of your day, alright?” He quickly started busing himself with some files on the desk, packing up his belongings so he could head back to his office. You didn’t buy it. 
You didn’t buy it because as much as you stared at him, he stared at you every chance he got. The short skirt you wore today was practically bait for the man, your suspicions were correct when you caught him staring at your ass as you walked to your desk this morning. “No, Matty, what do you mean?” Your voice was sickly sweet as you stepped closer to his desk, his eyes widening by the use of his first name. 
Matty blinked, stopping his movements to look at you up and down. He wet his lips with his tongue before speaking. The tension between you two was heavy and undeniable, laying over you like a thick blanket. “Darlin’, you don’t hide your staring very well.” 
Something went off then in your brain, some kind of siren—blaring horns that demanded you to talk back. You tapped your nails against the top of the desk, humming. “You don’t hide your staring well either, Professor.”
He pushed his glasses up his nose, chocolatey eyes challenging you, daring you to be bratty with him. His face was expressionless despite the erection he sported right underneath the cherry wood. “I’ll see you at tomorrow’s lecture. Work on being more productive in class, please.” His voice was gruff and full of authority. He’d never cave that fast. 
“I’ll be on my best behavior tomorrow, promise.” You shot him a smug smile, taking your lip between your teeth to stifle a laugh. You saw right through him. 
Matty tugged at his shirt collar, his skin overheated from the problem in his slacks. You spun around on your heels, turning towards the door and tossing your hair over your shoulder, not looking back. His stare burnt holes in your back as you dramatically swayed your hips. He let out a huff, his cock twitching in his pants when you finally left the room. Matty was well aware of the dangerous situation at hand. 
You sat in your usual spot, propping your chin on your palm as you tried your hardest to at least pay attention a little bit. Your eyes followed Matty’s every move, legs crossed under the desk—just waiting for him to finally look at you.
A cherry lollipop rested on your tongue, the stick poking out from between your plump lips. He’d pretended as if you didn’t exist when you walked in, but that only fueled the fire in you. You weren’t a fool. You’d seen that lustful glint in his eyes yesterday and there was no going back from that, no matter how aloof he decided he wanted to act today. 
Matty was going on and on about some famous composer, all while your tongue continued to swirl around the candy. He finally glanced over to where you were sitting, eyes widening before he shook his head. His resolve was weakening and so were his legs. 
His speech was affected too, watching him stutter out some incoherent apologies as he went into a coughing fit. “Sorry, got a bit of a scratchy throat today,” he uttered, sitting down in his chair and taking a sip of his plastic water bottle. His looks after that were fleeting and almost nonexistent—like staring at your lips wrapped around the lollipop was not even an option for him. Like he wasn’t going to fall for it.
No one seemed to care when he took that minute to compose himself, having really no choice but to believe what he was saying. But you continued your little scene with the lollipop until class ended, only biting into it during the last five minutes when students began to pack up. He had taught the rest of the lesson from his seat, not that there was much important information. 
Matty looked over at you like he knew that you stopped being a tease. You sat there with a triumphant smile, not moving to get up as the other students went out the door. 
“You’re unbelievable,” he said, leaning back in his chair. His voice echoed in the lecture hall. “What a naughty girl.” 
You squeezed your thighs together at his words, arousal gathering in your panties. So much desire for him was bottled up inside you. “Sorry, Professor.” 
He stood from the desk and rounded it, his lower body perched against the wood. His hard-on was clearly visible as he leaned back on his hands. “You see what you fucking do to me?” He adjusted himself in his pants, trying to relieve some of the built-up pressure. 
You bit your lip, eyes scanning down his body to admire your work. “I do. What are you gonna do about it? Gonna punish me?” 
He let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “Why don’t we discuss your recent behavior in my office, young lady?”
You were embarrassingly quick to nod your head, grabbing your bag as he gathered his own things. Your heart was beating quickly against your chest thinking about all the things he could do to you. For a moment, you were outside your body. You felt like your head was spinning.
He was silent on the way to his office, walking in front of you yet holding the door for you when you reached the familiar room. You walked in, hearing the distinct sound of the door locking behind you.
You took a deep breath as you turned to face him, his face etched with pure lust for you. Your backpack made a thumping sound as you dropped it next to his desk—it was now or never. 
“Whatcha got planned for me?” you asked, twirling a strand of your hair around your finger. He had a sour expression on his face as he took a few steps towards you, clearing his throat. 
“I think the real question is what do you want me to have planned, love?” His voice was barely above a whisper, one of his hands reaching up to caress your jaw. Your breath hitched, staring into his dark eyes as he searched yours for any signs of discomfort. His face softened after a few seconds and he rubbed his thumb across your cheek lightly. “Or if you want to go, we can pretend this never happened. Your call.”  
Your stomach turned in excitement and nervousness, all your feelings for your professor bubbling up and ready to spill right out of you. Without a second thought, you caught his lips in a searing kiss. He groaned softly, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you closer. 
You pulled back enough to speak against his lips. “Want this, sir. Want you.” 
He let out an airy laugh, finding you just fucking adorable. The nagging tightness in his chest almost disappeared completely. “Is that right, sweetheart? Been wantin’ to be my good little girl? Had to be naughty to get my attention?” His grip on your jaw got a little tighter, but he countered the action by pressing a light kiss to your nose. 
His words went straight to your core, heat quickly spreading under your skin. You were on fire, set ablaze by his deep, raspy voice. A whine slipped from your mouth as you squeezed your thighs together. It only gave a little relief to your throbbing clit. 
He lifted his other hand to properly cradle your face, thumbs stroking soothingly across your cheekbones as he looked at you expectantly. You managed to choke out a garbled ‘yes’. “Oh, baby, must be so needy, hm?” He clicked his tongue, backing you up until the back of your knees hit his leather desk chair. He seemed to be playing with your head a bit, knowing just how affected you were by his antics now.
You fell back into the chair, your breath getting caught in your throat when he immediately got down on his knees in front of you. 
“Can I please make you feel good, darlin’?” 
You wordlessly nodded, cheeks burning. Your eyes fluttered shut as you sank your teeth into your lower lip, gasping when he lightly slapped your inner thigh. “I need your words, love.” His right hand inched up your leg, fingers barely slipping under the hem of your skirt before he stopped. “Come on—know you’re a smart girl.” 
“Yes, sir. Please, please make me cum,” you whimpered.  The rotten words that came out of your glossed lips made Matty feel almost feral, like he needed to dive into you to survive. He pressed a wet kiss to the top of your thigh before he flipped up your skirt, moaning at the sight of your panties. A bow was sewn onto the fabric near the waistband; you couldn’t have been any more innocent. 
“So so pretty.” He traced a teasing finger up your thigh, looking up at you over his glasses and studying your little reactions. “Got you all to myself now.”
“Matty,” you mewled as you intertwined your fingers with his. He softly hummed, bringing your hand up to his lips and leaving a kiss on each of your knuckles. 
“Shh, I’ll take care of you, baby. Promise.” His deep, dominant tone of voice sent shivers down your spine, heat licking back up the base of it when he dipped his head, planting light kisses on your sensitive skin. Your breath hitched in your throat as you squirmed in his chair. “Now, tell me, have any of these boys made you cum?” He spoke like he already knew the answer. 
You knew he was referring to the inexperienced assholes that were known as your male college peers—trying to get into your pants any chance they could. Fiends for pussy, but obviously not for women’s pleasure. You shook your head profusely, thinking of the orgasms you had to fake when your ex-boyfriend would shamelessly rutt into you without asking if you were feeling good.
“They don’t know what they’re fuckin’ doing, don’t know what they’re fuckin’ missing,” Matty mumbled, hooking his fingers under the elastic band of your panties. He looked up to you for a second confirmation and you couldn’t help but smile, nodding in response. The baby pink cotton slid down your legs as you lifted your hips to aid him, watching him stuff them in the pocket of his slacks. “Safekeeping.” 
His dirty words had you leaking onto the leather of his chair. It was almost embarrassing how wet you were. You huffed, throwing your legs over his shoulders and pulling him in closer to where you needed him most. There was no reason for his nose to not be buried in your cunt. “Please, sir. Make me yours.”
You swore you saw a golden blaze igniting in his eyes. His large hands dug into the meat of your thighs, holding them apart, but still keeping them swung over his shoulders. The angle had let him get a full view of your swollen cunt. He finally leaned down to lick a flat stripe up your slit, which earned him a broken moan from the back of your throat. 
“So sweet, love. Fuck’s sake,” he murmured into your cunt, the vibrations of his words only adding to your pleasure. His tongue flicked at your clit and you looked down to meet his eyes as he took the throbbing bud into his mouth.
You squealed as you tried to clamp your legs around his head but he was much stronger. He kept your legs still against his shoulders and the chair as he devoured your cunt. “Oh my fucking god.” You ran your fingers through his curls, eliciting a deep moan from your professor. “Please, please—fuck…”
His eyes were locked on yours as he pulled back, licking at his lips like he did after sipping his soda. The bottom of his face was covered in your slick and you knew you’d remember that sight forever. He swiped two fingers through your arousal, groaning. “I think this cunt is already mine, yeah? S’fucking soaked for me, angel.” 
He plunged his skilled, thick fingers into your entrance, the long-awaited stretch making your eyes roll back into your head. “There we go, pretty baby, just let me please you.” You let out a breathy moan, tugging on his hair as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. He dipped his head back down to continue licking at your clit, getting a rhythm going with his hand. 
Pleasure bloomed in your belly, all of your worries melting away on his tongue and fingers. “Matty, feels so good. G-Gonna cum, need to cum,” you cried, heat inching up your chest and neck as he fucked you even faster. His head moved side to side between your legs, eating you like a madman as he curled his fingers up in the most delicious way. A whine slipped past your lips as you rolled your head back against the headrest of the chair. You gazed down at him with half-moon eyes.
“Atta girl, sound so fuckin’ pretty. Want you to let go, let go on my fingers—been so good f’me.” His encouragement was murmured against your pussy, dark eyes staring back up at you. He had you tipping over the edge in no time. You pulled your lower lip between your teeth, desperate to hold back your moans; you tasted blood from biting too hard. The intense pleasure felt like you’d fallen unconscious for a moment, head so floaty all you could do was smile down at him. He helped you ride out your orgasm, eyes trained on your heaving chest and raw lips. 
You tugged on his hair when you got to the point of being overstimulated and he pressed a wet kiss to your clit before pulling back, returning your soft smile. “Such a good girl. Already adore this pussy, baby.” His fingers spread your folds gently as he gazed down, admiring your puffy, red cunt. He spit, letting the trail of saliva drip onto your slit. A whimper escaped from your pouty lips.
“Sir, need you to fuck me, please,” you begged, clawing at his dress shirt as you tried to get him off his knees. “Want you to teach me how it’s supposed to be done, Professor.” 
Matty moaned before getting up off the floor, towering over you as he reached his full height. He rested his hands on the arms of the chair, trapping you in as he leaned down; your noses almost touching. He let out a low hum. “Would call you greedy if I didn’t want to fuck you so bad,” he whispers. 
He raised one hand to cup your jaw, a playful glint in his eyes. “What would your classmates think if they saw me giving you private lessons, sweetheart? Such a smart little girl acting all dumb for her professor…”
You didn’t even feel shame anymore, the ache between your thighs barely satiated by the first orgasm. You pecked his lips before letting out a breathy moan, “P-Please, fuck me dumb, sir. Have me any way you want me.”  
The groan Matty let out was far too loud for the setting and he immediately cringed at the sound. “You’re gonna fuckin’ end me, little one.” 
You let out a giggle, reaching out to play with the buckle of his belt. You couldn’t deny all his pet names made you even more slick for him, hoping so badly you could be everything Matty wanted. The outline of his hard cock could be seen clearly through his slacks, you already knew he was big.
“Do you even deserve my cock after the stunt you pulled, baby?” he cooed, petting your hair softly. Matty’s knees almost gave out as he watched you sink onto the floor before him. One of your hands traveled teasingly up his thigh, batting your lashes up at him. 
His breathing turned uneven as you dug your nails into his leg, leaning up to press a kiss to his painful-looking bulge—puppy dog eyes boring into his. “Been good for you, sir. Need you inside me so bad. Want your cock stretchin’ me out.” 
Matty let out a low growl before bending down to lift you up by your armpits, plopping you right on top of his desk. He kissed you harshly, hands smoothing over your blouse and unbuttoning the garment. He pulled back to admire your cleavage on display for him, your pink bra pushed them up in just the right way. You bit your tongue trying not to smirk, knowing that you chose this set specifically for him. 
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he moaned, groping your tits through your bra. His thumbs grazed over your lace-covered nipples, eliciting a high-pitched whimper from you. “Gonna fuck you so good, angel.” 
You felt dizzy, wrapping your legs around his waist as he fumbled with his belt buckle. Your cunt was dripping onto the wood of his desk already. 
He pulled out his thick cock from its confines, hissing as he pumped himself a few times. Your mouth salivated looking at the sight, clenching around nothing. 
He slotted his lips against yours in another frenzied kiss; you gasped as you felt him slowly drag the tip of his cock up your folds and to your clit, then back down to your entrance. You let out a wanton moan, gazing at him with pleading eyes. His tip nudged your sopping hole, so close to splitting you in two. 
“Such a sweet little girl, so eager.” He brushed his nose against yours, gnawing on his lip in an attempt to shield his permanent smile. 
You caressed his cheek, pushing his wired frames up his nose for him. “Wanna be a good student for you, Professor Healy,” you said with an exasperated whine, repeating your wish from earlier. Snaking your hand behind him to rest it on the nape of his neck, you noticed his eyes clouding over with lust. 
Your words coaxed a deep rasp from him, his hips immediately snapping forward into yours. He filled you up completely, bottoming out. You whined pathetically, never having this big of an intrusion inside you. Matty buried his face into your neck, littering soft kisses as he shushed you. “My best girl, barely can fit my cock in this tight little cunt. Gonna have to stretch you out more, hm?” 
Your entire body started to ripple with pleasure, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to mirror the position of your legs. You clung to him tightly, needing to ground yourself before you nodded, signaling him to start moving.
Matty kissed both of your burning cheeks before pulling out and then plowing back into your dripping cunt. You were a moaning mess, nails digging into the fabric of his sweater. You clenched around him greedily and he groaned into the crook of your neck. 
“This pussy was fuckin’ made for me,” he murmured, sucking and biting on your skin, roughly thrusting in and out of you. “Taking my cock so well, fuckin’ natural at this, yeah?”
Your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as you arched your back into him, your chest flush against his. He gawked at the swell of your tits, stopping himself from ripping your bra off; he’d get plenty of time to tend to them later. “Fuck, Matty,” you cried, your velvet walls fluttering around him. He moaned softly, connecting your lips as you brought your hand up, your fingers finding their home in his sweaty curls. 
His pace was steady and deep, both of you quickly chasing your release while still getting to feel every ridge of his fat cock. He lifted a hand up, thumb dragging across your bottom lip. His touch was delicate, it made you feel less filthy. “Stay quiet and I’ll let you cum again.” 
You wrapped your lips around his thumb, swirling your tongue around the tip. The finger in your mouth sufficiently muffled your whimpers, but it wasn’t good enough for him. He pulled his thumb out of your mouth with a pop, replacing it with his index and middle finger. “Must be getting close, yeah, baby?”
About to succumb to the intense pleasure that coursed through you, you sobbed as you clenched around his cock harder than ever before. “Mhm, pleath, can I cum?” you pleaded around his digits.
“Go on, my good girl, cum. Cum for me.” He dipped his head down, his breath fanning over your ear as he allowed you to come undone. His hand that wasn’t in your mouth held your body flush to his. 
Your second orgasm ripped through you as you dug your nails into Matty’s biceps, crescent-shaped indents sure to appear on his skin. He slid his fingers out of your mouth to stroke your cheek, praising you as you fell apart before him. Strings of curse words left your lips as you shut your eyes, seeing white behind your lids. His thrusts got sloppier as he helped you ride out your high and chased his own. You pulled him down with a hand on the back of his neck, smashing his lips against yours. “Want you to fill me up, m’on the pill.” 
He whined into your mouth before slowing down his thrusts completely, filling your cunt with his warm release—just like you’d requested. 
“Was that a sufficient punishment for my behavior?” You cocked your head in faux curiosity, mind fuzzy. 
“Nah, think I need to teach you some more lessons, darling,” he replied breathlessly, kissing you gently, still trying to recover from his intense orgasm. 
You hummed in response, kissing up his jaw. His stubble scratched at the skin of your lips. “I think so too.” 
“Let me take you on a date this weekend,” he mumbled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and planting a kiss on your forehead. “Or I can cook for you at mine if you’d like.” 
The idea of being at his place was too tempting to pass up. You giggled, gazing up at him with wide eyes. “Oh? You’re a chef, too?” 
“Hardly. But I’m pretty sure I can impress the sweet girl who’s been living off of instant ramen packs for months.” 
“I expect only the best from you, Professor.” 
Professor Healy never has anyone attend his office hours. 
Which is why you’re kneeling underneath his desk, drooling all over his hard cock as his jaw drops in pleasure. 
“Fuckin’ made for this, shit…” he moans, caressing the top of your head as you flick your tongue against the underside of his dick. “Good girl, so good for me.” 
A ring of your lipstick sits at the base of his cock. You giggle, pressing a kiss to his tip to stain that too. “Mine?”
“Yours. Fuck, darling.” His eyes roll back into his head at the sight of you claiming him—marking him with that lip color he knows so well. 
Matty gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, eyes dragging back down to look at you lovingly. You’re looking up at him through your eyelashes, mesmerized by his little noises and the sight of his brows furrowed in pleasure. 
He nearly jumps out of his seat when a sudden knock on his office door rings through his ears. You freeze, staring up at him in shock and he curses, ushering you further under the desk so you’re hidden from sight. Great, you’re going to get caught sucking your professor’s cock. 
“Uh—come on in!” Matty shouts, chest heaving as a student makes her way in. You can only hear the footsteps on the floorboards as she walks over to his desk. You hold your breath, anticipating the worst.
“Hey, sorry, just wanted you to look over my essay for me. I’m not sure if I followed the guidelines correctly.” The girl’s voice is pitchy, making you roll your eyes at the familiarity of it. She’s a chatty one in class.  
Matty looks visibly disheveled, but the girl can’t really tell (too lost in her own thoughts) as she hands over her paper to him. His hand shakes as he blindly reaches for his glasses on the desk, accidentally knocking the frames to the floor. 
The sudden clatter startles you, but once you spot the culprit of the noise you smirk to yourself. He huffs, bending over to retrieve them, but his naughty little girl crawls to them first, handing them to him with a bitten lip. 
His eyes shoot daggers at you, warning you not to try anything as he takes the glasses from your hand, sitting up again in the chair. The girl has her phone out now, completely oblivious to the activities occurring a few feet away from her. 
Matty begins to scan over the essay in front of him, acting like his cock isn’t rock-hard in front of your face at the moment. Knowing that the girl isn’t really a threat, she couldn’t care less about anything, you cheekily flick your tongue across his slit. 
He involuntarily kicks his leg, gently poking your knee with the tip of his dress shoe. A shit-eating grin spreads across your face as you grip the base of him. 
His cock twitches in your hand and he lets out a cough to cover up a groan. You let a trail of your saliva fall onto his length before beginning to stroke him slowly. It sends a rush of heat to your cunt, belly pooling with desire from the riskiness of the situation—you’re pushing all the limits. 
Matty’s halfway through the stupid fucking essay, barely holding himself together. He reaches his hand down, aggressively fisting your hair. You use all your strength to stifle a yelp, your scalp stinging as he tightens his grip even more. 
The dominance still radiating from him even in a moment like this has your eyes glazing over as you look up at his concentrated face. It’s so easy to be obedient for him, making you eager to please. 
You stop yourself from teasing him any more, realizing it would take longer for him to get this girl out the door. He loosens his fist a bit, offering your head some relief as he finishes up the essay. 
Perhaps a little too quickly, he hands the paper back to the girl. “I think you’ve done exactly what I’ve asked for this assignment. Great job.” 
The girl looks up from her phone, taking the paper from him. “Oh, good! Thank you so much,” she says sweetly, giving him a warm smile. 
“Of course.” Matty puts on his most polite face, watching her turn around and walk back to the door. Every second feels like an eternity. “Have a nice night, Elle.” 
She turns the knob, looking back over her shoulder. “Thanks, you too.” 
And then she was gone. 
Matty lets out a relieved sigh, falling back against his chair and releasing your hair in the process. He spreads his legs more so he can peer down at you. “What am I gonna do with you, you little slut?” 
“Dunno, sir.” Your lips curve up into a smirk, shifting on your knees to get rid of some of the pressure between your thighs. He isn’t going to play nice — you couldn’t be happier. 
He leans down and grips your jaw firmly, eyes locked on yours. His thumb runs over your pouty bottom lip. “Think I’m gonna fuck this pretty little face…remind you how cockdrunk you really are…” He laughs softly. “Maybe you’ll behave better if I fuck with your brain a bit, yeah?”
The music theory lessons with him ended (the class did really end up being an easy A), and your fondness for the older man only grew. No more fooling around on school grounds either now, because he asked you to be his girlfriend the minute the semester finished. He wants you in his space all the time. 
You started frequently visiting his apartment and staying overnight at that point. It was amusing to you that he stopped his whole panty stealing habit now that he had you here often—which you admit was hot every time he did take them—but damn you liked a couple of those pairs.
You find one of them in his room one Saturday afternoon, dramatically gasping and holding them up for him to see. He’s lying on the bed with his laptop on his thighs, all cozy under the duvet. He looks over at you and snorts when he sees the lace dangling from your fingers. 
“You’ve just got these fucking lying around?” You try to sound firm, but you’re holding back a laugh. 
“Oh, yeah. Well, now you can keep ‘em here, baby. I’ll wash them for when you stay over next.” His stupid grin makes you playfully roll your eyes. 
“You’re a freak,” you throw the pair of panties in his face, making him let out a belly laugh, quickly pulling them away from his eyes. You can’t help but crawl up next to him on the bed, grinning as wide as he is. 
“I thought you liked that.” Matty chuckles, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you nuzzle into his side. He presses a light kiss to the top of your head, making you melt into him even more. 
“You know I do, but the evidence of it when I’m not horny is kinda funny,” you retort, tilting your chin to gaze up at him. The lamp next to the bed shines a warm yellow light on his face. He chucks the panties into the laundry basket by his dresser. You love spending time with him during the day at his place, just lying around lazy and loved up by your boyfriend. 
The domestic nights with him feel natural too. Comforting, even. He often sits in on your nightly routine. 
“And what’s this?” Matty picks up one of the several labeled bottles, analyzing it closely. “Serum?” 
“Yeah,” you laugh, “‘S'just another skincare item, babe.”
He sets it back down on the counter, smiling at you. “Cool.” 
He memorizes the brand, planning to go out and buy fresh bottles of your skincare items so you have extras at his place.
He told you to just bring most of your stuff to his place, not wanting you to live off the dining hall food and shower with shoes on — for at least a few nights a week. Sometimes you think it's nice to hang out in your dorm with your roommate or just be alone when she’s out. You’d also just feel bad if you leeched off him everyday. You always have the self-imposed thought of being a burden to him, even though you're anything but. 
If Matty had it his way, you’d be living with him. He would take care of you, help you with anything you needed. He’s been alone in his flat for about four years now, and his ex-wife had left him in a state of constant pessimism. He really fits into the mold of a grumpy college professor. You, though, bring out a part of him he’s not seen in a while. The gentle, loving part. He wants to kiss your face, listen to you talk about anything, and hold you for as long as he can.
He understands you’re young though, want to do things your way. I mean that’s what he fucking gets for dating his student, but what else was he supposed to do when you make him feel like this? He had to have you, keep you happy, cherish you until you’ve had enough of him. 
“You’ve got to teach a lecture in the morning, Matty. Don’t let me keep you up, please,” you sigh, knowing he’s going to say something about how he’s taught lectures in worse states. 
“I’ve got to brush my teeth, so I'll wait until you're done. And I like watching you do your little routine.” He laughs, shifting on the closed toilet seat he’s perched himself on. Truthfully, he’d destroy his life for you if you asked. You’re the only thing that keeps him smiling anyway. 
Even after a year has passed, Matty still owns your heart. Perhaps even more than he did before. The dorm life is long out of your reach now, the partying slowly turning into you sitting on his flat and awaiting his presence after he gets off of work. You still have another year of school, but it’s easier now that you’ve accidentally fallen into the caring arms of your boyfriend. Plus, the rowdy college scene got boring pretty quickly. You left it with no hesitation. 
He’s got some troubles too, and you’ll help him when he’s having a hard time. In your eyes, nothing you do for him is as good as the things he does for you—even though Matty would be happy to just get a kiss from you and nothing else. 
You know he needs you more than ever tonight. “Hey, Matty, it's alright,” you coo, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him tight. He immediately buries his face into your neck, sighing softly. Your fingers card through his hair, trying to relax him. “M’here for you.”
He’s been off since he got home from a lecture. The the last straw was him accidentally dropping a mug on the floor, shattering it. You helped him clean it up as he was far too overwhelmed to be safely cleaning up shards of glass by himself. He muttered apologies over and over again for being a clutz—your heart aches for the man you love. It’s his own china, it’s not like he’s broken something of yours, but he’s still sorry he even needed your help to dispose of it. 
You squeeze him as hard as you can, glass cleaned properly cleaned up now as you stand together in the kitchen, hoping you can make him feel as safe and supported as you feel. He gently sways with you side to side for a moment, just taking in the scent of your perfume. “Come with me, okay?” you whisper.
You lead him to his bed, hand intertwined with his. You kiss his forehead and take off his glasses when he sits down on the edge of the mattress. He watches you intently as you start to unbutton his shirt, knowing this isn’t sexual at all. All the tattoos you’ve traced hundreds of times have seeped into the crevices of your brain by now. Every touch is full of care and devotion. You throw his shirt into the laundry basket then position yourself on your knees behind him, beginning to massage his knotted shoulders. 
He lets out a relieved moan, his eyes fluttering shut as you carefully work out the tension in his neck as well, planting kisses on his skin occasionally as you go.
“I love you,” he breathes, craning his neck to look back at you. You peck his lips, smiling. 
“I love you too,” you giggle, “Just relax for me, lemme take care of you. Always take such good care of me.” 
“Oh, darlin’ I love taking care of you. Don’t have to worry about me.” 
You frown, stopping your movements and resting your chin on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him. “I care about you so much. I don’t think I could live without you at this point. I want you to feel loved and safe with me, ‘cause that’s how you make me feel.” You nuzzle your face into his neck, and Matty nearly bursts into tears at your words. You want to make him feel as loved as he makes you feel during your intimate moments, but you can’t always do that when he’s fucking you to tears, turning your brain into mush. This is your chance to take care of him.  
He knows sometimes it’s extremely difficult for you to verbalize your feelings so hearing that renders him overjoyed and nearly speechless. He turns around on the bed, placing his hands on your cheeks and kissing you deep enough to make you dizzy.
You put a hand on his chest, giggling and pulling away from the kiss. His hands stay on your face as he grins at you, watching your lips move as you speak. “Lay down and let me give you a back massage, please?” 
“Okay, angel,” he breathes, sitting back on the bed. You help him remove his belt and slacks and he lays on his stomach against the clean sheets. He turns his head to look at you. “You know that I do feel proper taken care of with you, you make me the happiest man on the fuckin’ planet.” 
You give him a big smile, taking one of his hands and kissing the back of it—something you frequently do to show Matty just how much you love him. When you do it, you think back to that first time in his office when he sweetly kissed each of your knuckles as he held your hand, showing his devotion to you. It makes you smile every time.
“I like when you do that, you’re so cute.” He smiles and you playfully scrunch up your nose. He’s got no idea what your reasoning for it is, but you know he’d melt if you told him. Maybe one day. 
“Cute?” You let out an exaggerated gasp and he gently slaps your knee, making you laugh again. “Cutest one in the room is you.” 
“Honey, if you don’t give me that damn back massage right now I’m putting my clothes back on. Feel s’exposed.” 
“Alright, alright.” You reach for your nightstand drawer (yes, yours) to get a fancy rose-smelling oil you bought recently. 
“This oil kind of smells like roses, hope you don’t mind.” It brings you back to the bouquet of fresh white roses in the vase on the kitchen counter. He brings flowers home to you almost every week and you don’t understand how someone can love you so much. You don’t understand it, but you’ve let him grow on you like vines, blooming with love and dedication.
“I’ll just smell like you then, that’s fine,” he says nonchalantly and you snort. Matty is never bothered by the lingering smell of you on his sheets and his clothes. You could drench him in your essence and he’d still be begging, pleading for more. 
“Speaking of roses, I just love the ones out in the kitchen.” You place a couple drops of the oil on your palm, then rub both of your hands together to coat your hands with it. “Love when you bring me flowers.” As you begin to massage his lower back, you press a kiss on his spine and he hums. 
“As long as I have you, pretty girl, you’ll always have flowers.” 
“You’re too sweet,” you mumble against his skin. 
“Yeah, a sweet little old man, huh?” His voice echoes through his body and you feel it against your lips. You lift your head, rolling your eyes even though he can’t even see it. 
“Oh stop, you’re not even old. I call you old man as an endearing term. And because you’ve practically made yourself into one,” you giggle, but it turns into an uncontrollable yawn. 
“You tired, baby?” Matty props himself up on his elbows, looking over his shoulder. His bottom lip juts out when he sees your tired eyes. You nod in response, knowing you can’t hide it from him. 
He turns around and sits on his heels, kissing you. “Let’s get ready for bed, yeah?” 
Later that night you find yourself back in the arms of your boyfriend, who’s fully dedicated to returning the love and relaxation you gave him. He just has a different way of doing so. And he really couldn’t help himself after taking a hot shower with you. 
His fingers run through your wet folds, brushing your clit and circling your entrance as you begin to relax. He whispers praises as he plays with your pussy, lulling you to sleep with tender kisses on your neck. 
“Such a perfect little girl f’me,” he breathes, “I know you’re tired, sweetheart, it’s okay. Go on to sleep.” His other arm is wrapped protectively around your shoulders, holding you flush to his side as his hand strokes your cheek. “Let Daddy take care of you now, baby.” 
You whine, turning your head a bit to nuzzle your face into his neck. His facial hair is a familiar dull scratch against your face. His touch relaxes you, bliss coursing through your veins as he slowly brings you closer to the edge. “Matty,” a soft moan rips from your throat. 
“Shhh, that’s it, want you to turn that little mind off. Don’t need it anyway, yeah? I know what’s best for you, honey.” He kisses your temple as he finally plunges two fingers into you, the pad of his thumb brushing your clit as he stretches you out. The relief you feel is heavenly, moans spilling out of your mouth and into his warm skin. You grind down on his fingers, not caring how pathetic you look. 
He plays with you under the waistband of your panties, not even bothering to undress you completely before taking what’s his. Your hard nipples poke through your flimsy tank top, making Matty lower his freehand to bunch up the cotton, exposing your bare tits. “Can’t believe you’re mine—love you so much.”
You mewl, arching your back a bit. His hand is soaked from your arousal, fingers making you feel so full. “Yours…” 
He chuckles, rubbing a calloused thumb over your right nipple. “That’s right, pretty baby. All mine.” You let out a loud moan into his neck and he slows but deepens his pace in response, hellbent on making you truly feel him. “My dirty little girl.”
You nod deliriously, tired but relaxed and filled with pleasure (and Matty’s thick fingers). He really is trying to make you sleepy. “Wanna cum, please,” you plead, voice airy. It’s all too much; sleep won’t arrive until he lets you cream all over his hand.
“You wanna cum, huh? Need Daddy to make your brain leak through this sweet fuckin’ cunt?” He finally speeds up his pace again, sick of the teasing. 
“Yesyesyes, I’ve been a good girl. Please, Daddy!” His hand resting on your shoulder comes down to roll a nipple between his fingers. You’re reduced to a whining and squirming mess.
His thumb starts rapidly circling your aching clit, fingers curling upwards inside you, grazing against that soft spot. “Cum, sweet girl, then m’gonna have to fuck you to sleep, shit.” 
You gush all over his fingers, shoving your face in his neck as your legs shake from pleasure. “Thank you—mm, fuck—thank you,” you babble incessantly, gazing up at him through your lashes like he was some sort of Messiah, like he created the ground you walk on with his bare hands. 
You’re completely and utterly devoted to Matty. You always will be. With him, you’re not afraid of anything at all. 
taglist: @lesbianouttamagazine @gembadoobee @yeahireallylikemusic @alien-girl-violet @squishysoupy @sugarkane1001 @love4agesss @herbalaclava
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abiiors · 5 months
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everything is blue ✨ // matty healy x reader
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a/n: nnn. that's it, that't the plot. gotta thank @theungracefulgrace for the idea, i hope i did it justice <3 cw: smut, thigh riding and matty is a bit pathetic in this lmao, maybe even subby??? is this my subby matty debut??? wc: 1.9k (smaller than i thought actually...)
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“you two are disgusting,” george snickers from behind his drums as you make your way onto matty’s lap. 
it’s light-hearted and teasing—your friend taking the piss out of both of you but matty scoffs and you stick your tongue out.
“jealous,” you tease, “i’m going to wait until charli shows up and then we’ll talk.”
“yeah let’s talk then, mate,” matty quips from next to you and it only takes him another second to push his hands inside your t-shirt and place them on your bare stomach, almost caressing your ribs. 
it tickles and you squirm away, alerting george once more. 
“not going to start snogging in front of me, are you?” he turns around making an exaggerated vomiting gesture and scrunches his face at you. matty, almost predictably, takes that as a challenge. 
within moments, you feel his fingers lightly closing around your jaw, turning your face and capturing your lips in his. matty’s chest is pressed against your arm and his heartbeat echoes through your entire body, thrilling you to your very core when you feel the slight spike in it as your tongue grazes his bottom lip. his other arm snakes around your waist, pulling you closer as matty deepens the kiss and hums in your mouth, sending vibrations through your entire body. in turn your heart skips a beat. you don’t break apart until you hear a loud cough in the vicinity. and george stares back at both of you, truly disgruntled now. 
“bleurgh,” he makes a face. “like i said, digusting.”
“and like she said,” matty snorts, “jealous.”
“simp!”
“idiot!”
“oh, very clever mate!”
“oh—”
“alright, that’s it!” you interrupt matty before he can retort any further and he glares at you in return. “you’re fighting like twelve year olds.”
matty smirks. “weren’t snogging me like—”
you clamp your hand over matty’s mouth before he can finish his vulgar sentence earning you two juvenile giggles—one slightly muffled by your hand. 
“you are like an animal,” george teases again, earning an expression of utter betrayal from matty. 
“how dare yo—”
“prove it then!” he challenges. his mouth curls into a smirk and your eyes narrow. you know this expression on george. you know he’s up to something. 
“we are in november,” he grins cheekily. “the month of chastity and all.”
“can it!” you warn but it’s too late. matty’s smirk already mirrors george’s. you can practically see the cogs turning in their heads and you know what’s about to happen. 
“a bet,” george shifts in his seat looking eager and devious. matty does the same, gently setting you off his lap and placing a quick apologetic kiss on your head when you protest. 
“a bet,” he repeats. 
and then with utter disgust, you watch the two men in front of you spit on their hands and shake on their deal.
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at first it’s fun—watching him turn red and squirm every time you get out the shower with just a towel wrapped around you. a few times, you even see him immediately sit on his hands or busy himself in his phone, making you giggle. the few times after that, he leaves the room entirely—practically running away like a virgin catholic school boy. 
the first few days are okay, fun even. you send him a selfies—towel just high enough for your nipples to be covered, barely covering your ass, showing its curve very well with the way you pose; on your bed, wearing his t-shirt and only his t-shirt, hand buried suggestively between your thighs—matty threatens to block you, accusing you of wanting to make him lose. 
he kisses you like usual, though. that’s the one thing he can’t stop doing. if anything, it feels like his mouth is attached to yours any chance he gets. it’s like he’s compensating, even letting you straddle him and deepen it until he has to pull away with a pained expression.
“how would george know?!” you whine and watch him pout. 
“trust me, he would,” matty sighs, shoulders slumping, “i would stop looking so fucking miserable for one.”
you fume quietly, realising you let yourself become collateral damage. he is so close that his cologne permeates your fucking lungs—earthy, sweet and matty. always surrounded by the smell of cigarettes and now his body wash that’s somehow become the most enticing scent in the world. 
“can’t lose one week in, baby.” his face pinches into one big sad expression and you frown at him. 
one whole week of being so close to him and cuddling at night in bed, one week of feeling his leg part your thighs in his sleep, of feeling his thigh graze against your clit and making you hiss. one week of having him right here but not having him at all. 
you shift on his lap, feeling the coarse material of his jeans against the insides of your thighs—not that you’re wearing much, just a big t-shirt and underwear, while he’s still in his jeans and t-shirt and not yet ready for bed—and an idea sparks. 
“so don’t lose,” you smirk, moving again, straddling him with a hand on his chest. “the bet was for you to not cum. i am nowhere mentioned in it.���
“what a-are you doing?” matty stutters. he actually fucking stutters, eyes wide and roaming all over your body, particularly focused on where you’re pressed up on his thigh and already on your way to discarding your underwear. 
“what does it look like i’m doing, baby?” you lift up slightly, quickly sliding your underwear off and deliberately stuffing it in the pocket of his jeans. 
he whines and the muscles of his thigh shift right under your bare cunt. 
as if on auto-pilot, his hands grip either sides of your waist, pressing you down onto him even though his face looks utterly devastated and hungry. 
“maybe i could do this with your pillow instead, hmm? cum all over it while thinking about you?” you taunt, gyrating your hips and grinding all over his thigh, already soaking his jeans with how turned on you are. it has the precise effect you’re hoping for.
“no–fuck,” he whines, “stay here. use me, please, but stay here.”
“use you, yeah?” your mouth ghosts over his, hand trailing up his chest and tracing the contours of his throat with your nails, tracing all the delicate veins and the flutter of his rapid pulse. matty’s breath quickens and comes out in sharp pants. it’s almost like he can’t handle it, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore.
“touch me, touch me please!” he begs, eager and desperate when you quirk an eyebrow at him.
“touch you how?”
instead of answering, matty takes your hand off his throat and presses in on the bulge in his jeans, sighing at the pressure. he’s practically twitching under your hand, squirming even before you’ve properly even touched him. 
“can’t lose now, my darling, can you?” you marvel at the way your voice sounds, sultry and dominating with just a hint of condescensation. it’s power like you’ve never felt before. it makes the blood in your veins heat up even more, makes it flow faster. 
so you dig the heel of your palm onto his crotch, drag it up and then down and feel him twitch. feel him grow impossibly hard. matty's body shudders on the sofa like he's not even in there—just a puppet lying there pliant for your pleasure.
“but—”
you bend down to kiss him and feel all his complaints die on his lips. matty whimpers, moving his hips against your hand, thrusting forward almost, but you put an end to it almost immediately and laugh when he whines into the kiss. 
“i want to cum, fuck, need to so so bad!” his curls droop over his eyes. eyes that stare at you with such blatant lust that it throws you off kilter, almost makes your hips stutter but the pressure feels so good! the friction is enough to reduce every single thought in your brain down to a lumpy mush. 
“yeah?” you whisper in a tightly controlled breathy voice, “but you look so pretty when you beg sweet boy.”
he swallows roughly, transfixed on you and looking utterly fucked and unable to do anything other than keep his hands on your hips and help you ride his thigh, let you get off on him while he watches helplessly and writhes under your touch. 
“baby…” he whimpers again when you move your free hand through his curls, tugging at some of the strands and pushing them out of his eyes. 
your thighs burn with the strain, a delicious fucking ache that starts from deep within you and slowly spreads to the very tips of your fingers and the wet, sticky spot on matty’s jeans grows larger, right as your moans grow louder. 
“fuck, matty…” you bend down, mouth right next to his ear, right on his sweat soaked skin, “so fucking good for me, my pretty boy. make–shit! making me feel so good.”
your movements gain speed and you throw your head back, ignoring him entirely and chasing your own pleasure. no doubt he’s rather occupied with your tits bouncing in his face, seeing as how his hand trails up to trace them, to pinch your hard nipples between his fingers. 
“shit!” you cry out, “gonna cum baby. make me cum okay? good boy…”
matty’s back arches off the sofa—eager to obey, so so eager to please—pushing your t-shirt up and flicking his tongue over your nipples, nipping them with his teeth. matty alternated between tongue and teeth, licking and sucking the sensitive skin until there are bruised on your breasts, until you can barely distinguish one thought from another. until finally, you tip over the edge. 
there’s a moment where all you recall is crying out his name, breathing harsh and uneven, and then a moment stretched on to infinity that’s just pure fucking bliss. undiluted ecstasy. and then your hips finally stutter to a stop, just as you open your eyes hazily. 
the sight in front of you almost brings you to your knees again. matty’s jaw hangs open, mouth wet and red and raw and bitten—the absolute portrait of being fucked, and yet he hasn’t even been touched yet. hasn’t shed a single item of clothing. tears of frustration gather in his eyes while his hair falls all over his forehead. he can’t even make a single sound. not even a peep. 
this must have been torture for him and you know it. a sadistic side of you even relishes in it. “did you have fun?” you tease. “i certainly did…”
when you kiss matty again, you can physically feel the jolt in his body, as if his heart restarts, thumping in his chest wildly while he’s still speechless and focused entirely on you. 
matty makes a broken sound in his throat—somewhere between a “yes” and a “please” and maybe even your name. but you don’t let him finish. 
instead, you swipe your fingers through your soaked folds just as the trembling in your body subsides, collecting your slick and bringing it up to his lips that are still parted in shock. 
“a little thank you,” you place the fingers on his tongue, laughing when he swirls his tongue around them. “for being such a good boy.” 
“a good boy…” he repeats, voice hoarse and barely even audible. and you know the fun is just getting started…
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lemme know what you think <33
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446 notes · View notes
toomuchracket · 2 months
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and this is how it starts (flatmate!matty x reader smut)
this is quite literally day 1 of the relationship. like, condom-gate was mere hours ago lmao. also, someone said just thinking about flatmate matty and girlie literally just after condom gate and they're sitting on the couch and she's just kissing his neck and making out and he gets all flustered n floaty cos he's waited for this for so long 😕 maybe she teases him for getting hard so quickly and it's just sweet, i love them <3 so it's a bit of that too. enjoy <3
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matty's not totally sold on the idea of there being a heaven, but his reasoning against it is weakening with every passing second. after all, what else could the situation he's in right now be, sprawled on the living room sofa with you on his lap and your lips connected? there's no other way of describing it.
he doesn't give a shit about description right now, though. or responsibility, or even time itself. all matty cares about is kissing you, softly moving his hands to rest in previously uncharted places on your body, and getting you to make those little whimpers that draw all the blood from his brain and redirect it to his dick. your hands weave into each other's hair, and an instinctive tug from matty has you pulling back and whining his name. he goes to pout at the removal of your lips from his own, but then you grind down harder onto him and drop your head into the crook of his neck; your lips meet the soft skin of matty's neck, and he can't stop the gasp that rips from his throat (or the hardening in his sweatpants).
holy fuck. in the many (many) dreams matty’s had about your lips, not once has he ever dreamt about them in this location. 
what a twat he is.
another choked noise leaves his mouth as your tongue joins the party, and yet another follows when you moan into his skin at the way he clutches desperately at your hips. before he knows it, you're kissing him again, licking into his mouth with such intensity he's half-convinced you're trying to eat him. and he'd let you - his brain and heart have already been consumed by you, after all. why not let you devour him completely?
your teeth sink into matty's lower lip as if you might, and he whines; you giggle against him, and switch your lips back to his neck before repeating the bite, albeit softer on the delicate skin, pulling another wanton moan from him. the pain turns to pleasure in his nerves and ricochets throughout his body so hard that he feels his dick jump, despite the haze of pleasure clouding his senses and brain capacity.
judging by the way you gasp and grind down impossibly further onto your boyfriend, you feel it too. he's aware of your lips peeling from him, and then suddenly your beautiful face appears in his eyeline - your eyes and hair are wild, your lips are swollen from, well, use, and you've never looked more enticing than now. then you smile, and matty has to retract his previous statement. “i didn't know you were so into neck kissing, matthew.”
he's not sure if it's the use of his full name (chiding, teasing, patronising) or the glint in your eye (seldom seen, slightly manic, so fucking flirty) that does it, but matty feels his cheeks flood with colour and heat. you lightly run your thumb across one with a satisfied hum, and matty momentarily forgets how to breathe; when the palm of your hand brushes his throat on its way down to rest on his chest, he almost shuts down completely. but he quickly recovers enough to speak shyly. “isn’t everyone?”
“yeah, but, baby,” you roll your hips slowly against his, groaning quietly as you do, and whisper directly in his ear. “it just got you so fucking hard.”
christ.
matty says as much as he throws his head back against the sofa, and you giggle. he cracks one eye open to look at you, all happiness-glowy and dishevelled in his t-shirt, and he can't help but smile bashfully. “don’t take the piss, sweetheart.”
“i'm not!” you laugh, then smirk. “well, maybe a little bit.”
“fucking knew it,” matty lightly smacks your ass, grabbing the soft flesh and using it as leverage to rock your hips against his. “mocking me for a normal reaction to a kiss in an erogenous zone, you minx.”
“ooh, big word.”
“i’ll smack you again, i mean it.”
“do your worst,” you grin, circling your hips. “although i'll be surprised if you can focus with that - oh, fuck,” your voice trails off into a moan as matty grins and latches his lips onto your neck, sucking a bruise into the lightly-perfumed skin and soothing it with his tongue.
he smirks as he pulls back to admire his work; for all he's dreamed about marking you up as his like this, nothing comes even remotely close to the real thing. “seems to me like someone can't take it as well as she can give it,” matty coos, cupping your jaw and running his thumb over your pouty lips. “that right, baby?”
without breaking eye contact, you flick your tongue against the pad of his thumb - when you hear matty's breath hitch, you slowly slide your lips onto the digit, down to the knuckle, tongue still flicking around it. he swears under his breath, dick harder than he thinks it's ever been, other hand clutching so hard at your ass that he wouldn't be surprised if it bruised. somewhere deep in matty’s mind, there's a little part of him wracked with guilt at the thought of hurting you, sweet, beautiful you, but that part is far overshadowed by just how badly he wants to be inside you right now.
thankfully, you seem to want that too; you release his thumb with a pop and a connecting string of spit, and look doe-eyed at him. he’s not sure if he's ever seen anything so erotic on his life.“no. i can take it, matty.”
something shifts in the air when you say that - it's as if the molecules have gotten heavier, dropping a delicious tension into the atmosphere and knocking all flirty banter to the ground. you're so close he can see himself reflected amidst the desire in your eyes. so close that your breath mingles with his own, hot in the crisp autumn air. so close, and, for the first time, so available for him to touch.
and, god, does he want to touch you.
“you can take it?” matty asks, caressing your cheek and smiling when you nod. “now?”
“please.”
matty groans. “you'll kill me, sweetheart,” he quickly kisses you, smiling into your lips when you moan. “let me take you to bed and you can show me how well you take it, yeah?”
you pout. “wanna stay here.”
“so do i. but we need to go and get a condom, darlin.”
“don't worry,” you lean back slightly and pull the t-shirt over your head in a way matty can only liken to unwrapping a present; he swears when he sees the lacy black bra you're wearing, your tits threatening to spill over its scalloped trim. when you see him looking at your chest, you grin. “like my bra?”
“very much.”
“good. been saving it for you - you know, in case we ever… got to this stage in our relationship.”
matty blinks as the realisation settles in his mind and body. he's so turned on it's almost painful. “really? fuck, baby, that's so hot.”
you shrug bashfully. “got a whole drawer full of pretty underwear i only want you to see. been thinking about this for a while. which reminds me,” you reach into your bra and pull out a small foil square, and hold it up triumphantly. “no need to go to bed!”
matty laughs slightly deliriously. “you had a condom down your bra the whole time? fuck, you really want me, don't you?”
“on this couch, specifically,” you lean in to softly kiss his neck again, then drag your tongue up to whisper in his ear. “dreamt about riding you on it since the day i moved in.”
shit.
his hips buck up at the mere thought, eliciting whines from both of you. “wanna make your dream come true - need it, darlin, need you.”
“fuck,” your hands scramble to pull matty's t-shirt over his head, then pull his face to your own for a searing kiss. it doesn't last long, though, with you soon pulling back to guide matty's hands to the clasp of your bra; he catches on to your ideas quickly, undoing the thing with ease and sliding the bra from your body, while you clumsily balance on one knee at a time to get your panties off. matty huffs out a laugh when you roll your eyes and leave the underwear to dangle on your left calf, and you smile and wrap your arms around his neck. “what?”
“nothing, you're just cute - sit up for me, darlin, so i can lift my hips, thanks,” he replies, shimmying his sweatpants down with a shit-eating grin. “so impatient to fuck me that you can't even properly take your underwear off.”
you raise your eyebrows and tear the condom packet open with your teeth. matty feels his eyes roll back into his head when you finally touch him, pumping his dick three times before rolling the condom onto him - you hum happily at the weight of him in your soft hand. “i don't think i'm the impatient one here, babe.”
you're not wrong. still, disagreeing gives him a perfect excuse to rile you up with a touch, too. “no?” matty tilts his head, sliding a hand across your thigh and between your legs; before you can react, he slides a finger along your slit, catching the sticky arousal and dipping into your dripping cunt. your reaction - a shaky whimper - is incredible, almost as incredible as matty's realisation that it’s him who got you into this state. “oh, baby.”
he smiles when you whine his name, but it drops in favour of a gasp when you replace his finger in your folds with the head of his dick. without breaking eye contact, you gasp too. “matty, can i…?”
“please, angel,” matty moans, hands trailing up to squeeze your tits before returning home to your hips. “put me inside.”
“okay,” you all but whisper. a beautiful smile crosses your face, the sun breaking through clouds. “i love you.”
the way you say that, so giddy… matty thinks his heart could honestly burst. he gently cups your jaw with both hands. “i love you too.”
you giggle, and matty feels your cheeks heat up. “i'm glad i get to love you openly now.”
“me too, darlin,” matty kisses you slowly, passionately, but so sweetly; he wants you to be able to feel how much he loves you through his lips. he pulls back just enough to speak clearly, foreheads still touching. “wanna be even closer to you.”
“hold my hips, then, please,” you murmur against him, smiling and kissing him again when he obliges. shuffling around on your knees for a second, you line matty up with yourself, and slowly begin to sink down onto him. the feeling is mind-blowing for both of you, it seems - matty makes a choked groan at how tight you are, and you whimper as he stretches you further with every bit of him you slowly take. “matty.”
he responds with a moan of your name, rubbing soothing circles into your hips while you take him to the hilt with a series of dazed blinks. despite the pleasure already clouding his brain, matty touches your face in concern. “you feeling alright, darlin?”
“yeah. just full.”
“need a second?”
you nod. “sorry, baby.”
“no, not at all. feels amazing like this, anyway,” he strokes your cheek, relishing the way you melt into his touch. “knew you'd look fucking gorgeous on top.”
at that, you clench around him - he's not even sure you're aware of it, but he has to focus very hard on keeping himself from moving inside you - and speak again. “have you thought about this a lot?”
matty nods, trailing his hand down to your chest. “oh yeah.”
“so have i,” you smile, humming contentedly when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and index finger - when he leans forward to take the bud into his mouth, you whine. “fuck, can i move now?”
“yeah,” matty moans around your tit, before pulling away and leaning back against the sofa. “ride me, angel.”
the sentence hasn't even fully left his mouth before you're obliging; the words trail into a raspy groan as you slowly pull yourself up and sink back down. his eyes want to close from the overwhelming pleasure of you fucking him, but he keeps them open because the sight of you like this is too incredible to miss even a second of. matty has no idea how many times he's dreamt of you doing exactly this to him, alone in his bedroom or hotel or tour bus bathroom, but every single fantasy pales in comparison to the real thing. after all, he couldn't have imagined the way your jaw trembles and your eyelids flutter every time he bottoms out inside you, sending an accomplishment high through his body that makes him feel better than any substance he's ever tried.
he has imagined the way your tits would bounce as you speed up your own bouncing on him. again, though, reality is so much better - not once in his dreams did you whine a plea while he tentatively touched them, or cry his name and clench around him in response to him pinching your nipples. the slight pain spurs you on, makes your hips move faster and wilder and matty's contract in pleasure, and he makes a mental note to remember the effect it has on you for future reference. 
like he'd ever forget any of this. matty’s never felt so good in his fucking life.
when he tells you as much, you beam, and speed up yet again. oh. matty smirks as best he can through the intense pleasure. “you like it when i tell you how good you are, darlin?”
“mhmm,” you nod shyly, adorably incongruous with the way you're slamming your hips down to meet matty's. “wanna be perfect for you.”
fuck. “you are, sweetheart. my perfect girl,” matty sits up to kiss you, and you whimper into his mouth at the slight change in angle of him inside you. he smiles, switching his lips to your neck. “what else do you want, gorgeous?”
“want - oh, fuck - want you to touch me,” before matty even has the chance to respond, you suck his right thumb into your mouth again and lead it to your clit. “wanna cum.”
and who the fuck is he to deny you what you want, especially after seven years of also wanting to make you do just that?
“alright, darlin,” matty smiles, jaw dropping at the way you tighten impossibly further around him as he starts working little circles into your clit. “shit, that feels good.”
“yeah?”
he nods. “keep going, angel. actually, just use me to get yourself off. whatever you need to do.”
your eyes widen. “really?”
“really. wanna see you cum for me,” matty lightly bites the inside of your tit. “used to make myself cum thinking about you falling apart on top of me like this.”
a glint of something flickers in your eyes, something matty can't quite name. “so, if i cum,” you breathily begin, still rocking your hips. “you'll cum too?”
“pretty much, yeah.”
you smirk. “alright.”
with that, you brace your arms behind you on matty's thighs, using them as leverage to fuck him as hard as you possibly can. he gasps, nerves beginning to tingle with the orgasm he's been both holding off and craving for a while now, climax creeping closer with every bounce of your hips and tits; he's mesmerised by you, your beautiful body practically shaking above him as you ride your way to ecstasy, and whines of his name and various swear words and “don't stop touching me, please” pouring from your perfect lips.
matty does as he's told, thumb staying put on the bundle of nerves between your thighs. remembering his mental note from earlier, he brings his free hand down on your ass and kisses away the cry you let out on impact. “come on, sweetheart,” he coos against your mouth. “give in. cum for me, my love, let go for me. make me feel good.”
he leans back to look at you - you look utterly fucked, eyes heavy and teary, jaw slack and lips swollen, but you're so beautiful. when you look at him (probably just as fucked-looking, to be honest), you smile sweetly, but it soon drops off your face as you rush ever closer to the precipice of orgasm. “matty,” you whimper, voice cracking from overuse. “i'm gonna cum.”
no four words have ever sounded better to him. matty holds your face with his free hand; you nuzzle into it, and a wave of love washes over him. “do it, angel.”
your head drops onto his shoulder as your hips fall out of rhythm, and you cry into his neck as your body jerks in ecstasy. matty cries, grabbing your ass and leaning back so he can fuck up into your pulsing cunt as his own orgasm hits. he holds you flush against him as he cums into the condom, then lets you gently flop down as you both recover with panting breaths.
matty's so hazy from pleasure that it takes him a minute to register the chaste kisses you're planting on his neck - you lift your head when he giggles breathily, smiling so widely he's sure your face must hurt. “hi matty.”
“hi, baby,” he kisses your nose. “i love you.”
“love you too,” you give him a little smooch. “loved that.”
“fuck, so did i,” matty sighs, grinning at you. “you're really fucking good at that.”
“only cos it's you i was fucking,” you giggle. “my need to make you feel good outweighed the burning in my thighs. would've tapped out, otherwise.”
matty rubs the offending body part. “will you let me take care of you in return, then? after you've endured the pain and climbed off me so i can get rid of the condom, that is.”
you nod, hissing as you pull yourself off matty's dick and flop onto the couch beside him. he kisses you quickly before he stands, slightly shakily, and removes and ties off the condom; you protest when he places it on the coffee table. “matthew!”
“what? i put it on a coaster. and i'm not leaving it there!”
“still! i don't want used condoms on my good coffee table, even if it's us that's used them,” you stare at him for a second, and then collapse into giggles. “new flat rule?”
matty cackles. “all condoms put in the bin immediately after use. right, hold it for a second, then - and don't give me that face, it was inside you!” he sighs as he bends down and scoops you - holding the condom between your thumb and index finger, mildly disgusted - up bridal-style into his arms. your face softens when he kisses your head as he carries you down the hall. “fancy a bath? it'll help your legs.”
“only if you come in with me.”
he hums, nudging the bathroom door open and setting you down on your shaky legs; you chuck the condom in the bin. “i like the sound of that.”
“good,” you lean up to kiss him. “now please leave the room.”
“what? why?”
“because,” you say, turning the bath's hot tap on. “i need to piss. in peace.”
matty pouts overdramatically. “but i don't want to leave you.”
“out, healy,” you point at the door as matty giggles; you kiss his cheek as he leaves, though. “bring a bottle of wine in when you come back?”
“glasses, too? or just share the bottle?”
you scoff. “you were just inside me, and now you're worried i have germs?”
he laughs. “i love you.”
“i love you, too.”
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sugar-coat-it · 3 months
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Matty helping you deepthroat him <3
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Aka: Matty having a power trip over you choking on how big he is and wiping your tears and petting your hair and and and
Fem! Reader
Contains: Oral sex (M receiving), gagging on big dick Matty lol, looots of praise, dirty talk, Matty being a cocky bastard, reader tearing up while giving head
—-----------------------------
Frustrated about her gag reflex, reader asks Matty to guide her through deepthroating him
—-----------------------------
Don’t choke. You can do it. 
This is what you tell yourself as you dip your head down further, slowly trying to take more of your boyfriend’s generous length in your mouth. Desperate to please, as usual, you eagerly want to try taking him all the way down your throat tonight. Matty watches you with heavily lidded eyes as he holds your hair back to get a perfect view of you sucking him off. Whispers of praise and obscenities spill from his lips, he doesn’t even try to filter himself. 
“God, that mouth of yours was just made for my cock, huh?” he says, biting at his lip as he rubs his thumb affectionately at the base of your neck.
Contradicting his filthy talk with gentle touches is so earnestly Matty, it makes your heart swell. Unfortunately, the moment is cut short the second the tip of his cock brushes the back of your throat. Your eyes go wide as your throat constricts, panic settling in your veins as you rush to pull off of him and go right into a coughing fit. You curse through gritted teeth as your own body sabotages you. Immediately, Matty is reaching out with alarm, sitting up ramrod straight. 
“Woah, fuck’s sake, you alright?” Matty frowns, wiping the saliva that has dripped down your chin while holding your cheek. 
You nod at him, waving off his concern as your coughing subsides. You can’t seem to meet his gaze at the moment, and he notices the look on your face, a tension in your expression that only comes from frustration. Matty searches your eyes, trying to read you as he thumbs over your cheek softly, waiting for you to say something.
“... Does it bother you that I can’t take you all the way?” you ask, your voice uncharacteristically small as you finally meet his eyes.
Matty’s brows raise in surprise at your question, then he scoffs like what you just said was preposterous, reaching to grab your hand and squeeze it. 
“What? No, of course it doesn’t. Don’t want you to hurt yourself for the sake of sucking my dick, babe,” he says, running his thumb over your knuckles.
“I know, but I really want to try again. Do you think you could… guide me through it?” you suggest, tilting your head at him in that way that gets his heart thrumming against his chest. How could he say no to you?
He hesitates for a moment, clearly not wanting you to push yourself too far, but he also knows you know your own limits, and he would never try to tie you down. His mind wanders, and Matty’s cock twitches at the thought of easing your mouth down his shaft, him talking you through it till he’s down your throat. That settles it.
“Well, yeah, I can. But the second you feel like you want to tap out, you do it, understand?” he replies sternly, raising an eyebrow at you.
He knows how you get, always eager to please, but he will not have you feeling uncomfortable on his watch. You nod quickly, smoothing your hands out over his thighs with a smile pulling at your lips at how your boyfriend dotes on you. Batting your lashes at him, you start to lower yourself again and he just smiles at you, bringing a hand to the back of your head. A low groan rumbles in his throat as you start kitten licking at his slit, kissing at the tip of his cock while looking up at him with those siren-call eyes of yours. 
“My beautiful girl,” he mutters, caressing the side of your face gingerly. 
You always look so perfect like this to him, so vulnerable. The fact that his sweet girl is so eager to deepthroat him and make him feel good just has adoration pulling at his heartstrings. You hum happily at his sugary praise, dipping your head down further as you wrap your lips around him, graciously swallowing the salty pearls of precum. He’s weighty in your mouth, even just the tip of him heavy on your tongue. He moans wantonly the moment you hollow your cheeks around him, pretty pink lips tight around his shaft. Matty’s eyes are clouded with lust as he watches you begin sinking your head down, encouragingly petting your hair. 
“Look at you… atta girl, you can do it,” he says softly, keeping a close eye on your expression, making sure you don’t look uneasy, “Go slow, love.”
You breathe through your nose deeply, using that trick where you close a fist around your thumb to suppress your gag reflex. You can’t remember where you learned it, but you silently thank whoever taught you as Matty’s cock kisses the back of your throat. Your brows furrow with concentration, letting your eyes flutter shut. Matty’s stare is burning, you can feel it on you as he gently pushes some of your hair behind your ear, carding his fingers through your locks. He gasps, marveling at you as you take more of him than ever before. 
“That’s it, that’s my girl,” Matty whispers breathily, tilting his head back against the headboard with a satisfied grunt. 
You can feel your throat threaten to constrict, making you pause your movements. You quickly look up at him with doe-eyes, tears brimming your bottom lashes as you try not to gag. Matty coos at you, holding your cheek.
“Aw, baby, is it too big for you?” he pouts. His voice is sweetly sympathetic, too sweet to be fully sincere.
You can tell part of him is enjoying watching you struggle to take him, it strokes his ego in a way. You whine around him pathetically, one of your hands tightening in the sheets while you fight the urge to pull away. You squeeze your fingers around your thumb hard, trying to ease your sensitivity as some tears trail down your cheeks. Only a bit of him is left, but it feels so daunting. Matty reaches to wipe your tears tenderly, dominance simmering deep inside him at the sight of you.
“I know… I know, sweet thing. Not used to taking so much cock, hm? This is what sucking off a real man is like,” he says, now clearly having a proper power trip over this whole scenario. 
You narrow your eyes at him for a moment, not sure whether to be ticked off by his arrogance or turned on by it. Seeming to have repressed choking on him for the moment, you let your eyes flutter shut as you dip down hurriedly, forcing your head down. Your nose presses to his pelvis, a bit of course, dark hair tickling at the tip of your nose. Excitement thrums in your veins as you realize that you’ve done what you set out to do, eyes snapping open eagerly as Matty moans lowly at the sight of you. He fists at the sheets to restrain himself from bucking up into your tight, wet mouth. 
“Fuuuck, that’s a good girl, knew you could do it,” Matty admires, smiling at you lazily with adoration twinkling in his eyes, “Feels nice? Having my cock down your throat?”
Pride swells up inside your chest as you nod at him, practically salivating at the sound of his praise. To let yourself breathe, you pull yourself up from his lap, almost tackling him to press an enthusiastic kiss to his lips. Matty giggles against your mouth, ruffling your hair adoringly at your excitement. 
“Did it, Matty,” you croon, a dopey smile on your face as you bury yourself in his neck, reaching down to wrap your hand around the base of him, slowly pumping his dick.
“I know, I saw, sweet girl. Looked so pretty like that for me- fuck,” Matty gasps, hips rocking up into your fist wantonly. 
He groans deeply, cock throbbing in your hand as you give him a sudden tight squeeze. Matty’s hands ghost up your spine, making you shiver as he feels each bone beneath his feather-light touch.  
“You gonna let me cum down your throat now?” Matty purrs in your ear.
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Text
the birthday party -
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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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1K notes · View notes
cowboylor · 6 months
Text
hotline
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you call matty when you're bored.
warnings: (18+) smut, mutual masturbation, phone sex (kind of?), degradation, oral (f. receiving)
wc: 1k
note: i completely blame this on me seeing the 1975 last week and being consumed in a brainrot over [REDACTED]. anywho this wasn’t the larger work i’m working on just a a sweet, totally chaste blurb of our good ole pal matty.
"Hello?"
His voice is worried. You've never called this late before. Even in the past when you were out with friends and just couldn't wait to tell him just how jaw-droppingly fit you found him. Or when you've missed your routine phone call while he's on tour and call him back hours later with a rushed apology and an eager inquiry about his day.
Those were late; but never this late.
"Hi," You say.
It comes out pitchy and you screw your eyes shut at the way you sound. Like you're clearly out of breath and heaving against your mattress. Like you're struggling to hold your phone up to your ear as your hand wanders below your panty line. Like you're completely, utterly desperate for him because let’s face it—
You've got it bad.
Matty pauses. "Everything alright?"
"Oh yeah," You say quickly. Shifting against the bed, you move to sit up against the frame. "Everything's fine, just... Miss you is all."
"Miss me," He repeats your words in tut, his voice sounding relieved when hearing nothing is wrong. You hear him shift (wherever he is--in his hotel bed or maybe on the couch). "Why's that?"
You tuck your lip between your teeth as your fingertips pry at your folds.
"Can't I miss my boyfriend?"
He hums over the line. "Of course, of course."
"It's just been a while."
A while since a lot of things. A while since your last phone call. A while since you've seen him ever since he left for New York. A while since he's fucked you if you’re mentioning the obvious.
He goes quiet on the other line and your hand slows.
"Darling."
You wince, your fingers returning to your clit. "Yes?"
"Are you playing with yourself?"
You snap your hand away like you've been burned. Your mouth falls open and you can practically hear his amused grin through the phone.
"No." You hiss, face burning.
You glance down.
He chuckles at your insistence. "Are you sure?"
He can read you like a book.
"Positive."
In more ways than one.
"Not rubbing your clit?" He asks, his voice lowering.
A whine escapes you and you know you're in for it.
You dip a finger into your underwear again, swiping at your bundles of nerves experimentally. Stifling another whine, you lean your head back against the headboard.
"Darling," He breathes out. You perk up at the change in octave; listening closely to hear the buckle of his belt clank and his quiet exhale. "Are you lying to me?"
Rolling your eyes back as you toy with your clit, you sigh into the speaker: "Do you think I am?"
"No," Matty huffs a laugh. You can hear him fumble with the buttons of his pants. "My girl would never act like that."
Your mind grows fuzzy and all you can think of is his voice and how it sounds reverberating through your phone—how it would sound when he's hovered over you, how it would sound when he's buried between your thighs.
Because you’re not a stranger to that sound. Not unfamiliar with the way he holds your legs apart while lapping at your core. With the way he needs to keep your thighs in place or else you’d be squirming against his mouth both drawn in and out from all the sensations you’re feeling.
(“You’re so sensitive,” He’d say, groaning into your cunt. “Even before you come you’re twitching and whining—like you're in fucking heat or something.”)
“Like–” Your eyelids feel heavier as you draw out sharp, tight circles. “Like what?”
He hums. “Like a whore.”
Heat pools and you meet the warmth with the pad of your fingertip.
You swallow roughly, relishing in the sound of his breathy groan as you imagine him also touching himself. Also getting himself worked up to the point where his thighs shake and his fingers threaten to pull away.
“‘m not a whore," You defend through bitten lips.
Prying yourself open with one finger, your timid touches become erratic. Less controlled and more sloppy with every flick of your fingertip, rhythm becomes a thing of the past.
“No?” He chuckles, “Just like getting off to your boyfriend's voice while you’re fucking yourself?”
You’re already warm in the face; you don’t give Matty the pleasure of pretending to be embarrassed. You’re too close for that.
“Matty,” You breathe out, wanting to be done with the game.
“Yes, darling?”
If he wants to draw it out of you fine.
You wince as you draw sloppy figure-eights. “I want to finish.”
Which goes against what you usually want from Matty. Usually you’re shifting against him, urging him to slow down because you want to let it linger—almost dreading the idea of finishing and it being over.
(“I can’t,” You’d murmur, eyelids fluttering—clenching your stomach in an effort to hold off coming.
“You can.” His voice would turn stern and you’d feel another thump of heat radiate throughout your body. “Just let it happen, darling. Let me take you there.”)
Matty feigns mock surprise. “And here I was thinking we were having a heart-to-heart.”
“Don’t patronize,” You furrow your brows, halting your movements.
“I’m not some sex hotline, you know,” He tuts, his voice gravelly as he shifts around in the background. “To fulfill all your carnal urges.”
You blink. “I'll hang up.”
He doesn't miss a beat. “Well, hold on.”
You smile and you’ve got him.
"'m sorry," He says, sounding like he's closer to the phone. It makes shivers run down your body hearing him like this—tucked up in your neck while your fingers hover over your core. It's too much and not nearly enough at the same time. "Let me make it up to you."
Pretending to think about it, you click your tongue, "How?"
"Tell me how wet you are."
427 notes · View notes
wreckedandpolemic · 6 days
Text
white and gold - matty healy
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(mdni) in which you become both entangled and enamoured with your father's boss. 13007 words.
warnings (buckle up): 18+, problematic age gap, masturbation, corruption kink, slight exhibitionism, praise, degradation, heavy daddy kink, slight dumbification, unprotected sex, oral (f and m receiving), filth filth filth filth filth!
Your heels click against the tiled floor as you stroll across the lobby of your father’s office, giving a winning smile to the familiar security guard as he waves you through. Humming along to the song that plays over your headphones as the lift rises, you wonder idly why your father wanted to have lunch with you today; he had been oddly insistent that morning. The doors ding open and you step out into the office, fairly quiet at lunch hour. Men in suits mill around, their gazes catching on you and darting away so they can pretend their lurid thoughts aren’t painted plain as day on their faces.
Scanning the room, you don’t immediately spot the man you’re looking for. On a closer look, your father’s thinning hair and crisp suit are nowhere to be seen. Strange, again; he’s always here to meet you when he wants to take you out for lunch. Your searching gaze lands on a man heading for the lift, the sight of him arresting, practically rooting you to the spot. Greying curls haloed around a sharp, handsome face, lips plush red. A silver hoop shines in one of his ears, standing out against his dark hair. The designer sunglasses that sit across the bridge of his nose should be obnoxious, but he wears them louche and rakishly charming. He’s younger than your father, but not by much; probably nearing twice your age. You don’t recognise him — you know everyone who works for your father practically inside and out, and you’d never forget a face like his.  
Suddenly, he’s in front of you, and you’re blinking dumbly at the material of his expensive suit. “Are you lost?” he asks, his voice low and alluring, wrapping around you like a caress. The sunglasses block your view of his eyes, leaving you unfairly unable to tell whether he’s reacting to you the way you are to him.
You swallow thickly, fighting to find your voice. “No,” you say confidently. “Well… kinda, I guess?” you add with a laugh. “I’m looking for my dad.” You offer his name, and he nods in recognition.
“Ah— My fault, that. Sorry, love,” he says, voice softening on the final syllable in a way that has you biting the inside of your cheek to get your racing heartbeat under control. “Kept him late in a meeting.” You nod absently, distracted as his tongue flickers out to wet his lips and leaves them pink and glossy. Hopefully you aren’t wearing your thoughts too obviously on your face. “Matty,” he offers, holding out a hand.
You take it politely, surprised at the calluses scraping against your palm. He doesn’t look the type for hard work, the very shape of him insouciant, privilege scented on him under the smell of cigarettes and expensive cologne. The weight of his hand in yours as Matty holds your gaze for just a split-second too long feels charged, tension welling between you. After a beat, you give your name and Matty quirks an enigmatic half-smile that you just can’t get a read on. You wonder what kind of picture you’re painting for him; ribbons in your hair, skirt short enough to tease without any promise, socks biting into the flesh of your thighs. Your soft pastels boast innocence, a clean sweetness begging to be ruined where the sharp lines of him are rough around the edges, something dark tightly controlled under his easy smile. The pair of you are incongruous, yet symmetrical somehow, an artist’s rendition of impropriety.
The coolness in your palm when he lets go feels like a physical loss, your entranced gaze lingering on his face for another brief moment. Then he gives a cursory nod and strolls off, the spell breaking and leaving you stock-still as if you’ve been doused with a bucket of cold water. His name rolls around your head as you pick your way to your father’s office; Matty, Matty, Matty, like a litany, the concurrent chime of warning bells going unheard, or maybe just ignored.
Your father smiles up at you when you enter his office, getting up as if to hug you and stopping awkwardly short. He doesn’t know how to act around you, a consequence of the years of long hours and late nights that afford you your lifestyle but cost you a family. You make clumsy small-talk on the drive; he asks you how uni is going, you ask about work, he forgets the names of your friends, you remember the names of his. The same circles you always talk in. It’s never unpleasant, but always stiff, artificial.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to meet you,” he says once you’re seated in a quiet corner of your favourite restaurant. He remembered that about you, at least. “I was in a meeting that ran long.”
You try not to visibly perk up at the reminder of possibly the most gorgeous man you’ve ever met. “Oh, yeah,” you say, feigned casualness layered over your tone. “I met the guy you were with on his way out. Who was he? I don’t think I’ve seen him before.” Your father pauses briefly, and you wonder if you’ve laid it on too thick, showed too much interest. But you know your father couldn’t reconcile the idea of you being interested in one of his coworkers with the image he holds of you as his little girl.
He sits up straighter, adjusting his tie in the way he does because he thinks it’ll lend more gravity to his next words. “It was actually a very important meeting, or I wouldn’t have let it run as long as it did. It was with the VP of the company, Matthew Healy.” He nods self-importantly. “Very nice chap, honestly. I convinced him to allocate us more budget next quarter, which means that…”
You tune out the rest of his corporate jargon, letting the new information you’ve gleaned rattle around your brain. Vice fucking President. The scandal you’d cause selfishly thrills you more, because who could gainsay it, really? Sure, your father would have some choice words, but he’d keep them to himself in public for the sake of his job. You almost giggle picturing the vein that would throb in his forehead, and then remember yourself and focus back into the conversation right as your father finishes talking.
The waiter who has been hovering a tasteful distance away seizes the gap in conversation to take your order. You order without looking at the price, leaning casually back in the booth as you rattle off the name of the dish in perfect Italian. A few minutes later, the smooth, dark flavour of an espresso martini on your tongue, your father finally gets to the point.
He says your name seriously, levelling you with a look that’s laden with meaning over his drink. “I wanted to meet with you today to talk about something.” You nod uncertainly, unable to track where this is going. “Your last year at university is starting in September, and I’d like to know you have somewhere to go when you’re finished. Other people studying your course have been making industry connections and networking for years, and I’m concerned that you’ll be behind when you’re trying to get into work.”
You let him talk, even as you mentally roll your eyes. He’s showing care in one of the only ways he knows how, and you can’t really begrudge him that. Never mind that the idea of trudging to the office every day in a dull grey pantsuit and attending mergers and meetings for the rest of your life gives you the shivers. You open your mouth to bring this up, but pause when he continues. “I know you aren’t sure about using your degree, but there’s a dinner this weekend that I’d like you to come to. Just to see how everything works, show your face, start making yourself a name, hm?”
The refusal sits on the tip of your tongue, balancing there on instinct, but then you consider that this might be your only chance to see Matty again. Of course, he might not even be there, but it’s a risk you’re willing to take. Your thoughts haven’t strayed from him for more than five minutes since you met, he’s a nagging itch under your skin that you just can’t scratch, and you need him. “Okay,” you say, cutting your father off. He goes silent mid-spiel, having anticipated you taking more convincing than that. “Is it black-tie?”
Your father watches you curiously as you sip demurely at your cocktail. “Yes. I’m very happy you agreed,” he adds, the implicit question hanging heavy in the air between you.
With an airy shrug, you set down your glass. “Like you said, I’m not committing to anything. I just get to have a free fancy dinner, basically.” It’s a casual excuse, characteristic enough of you that your father couldn’t even begin to guess at your real motivation. The same waiter suddenly materialises with your food, and you dig in happily.
Over the course of your meal, your father explains the most important figures who’ll be attending, and Matty is among them, thank God. You try, subtly, to pry into his personal life, but come up fairly short; you can’t find a tasteful way to ask if he’s married, although it’s not unlikely, with a face like his. Once your father’s free hour has dried up, he drops you home and you slink off to your room and fall into your bed.
Guiltily, you pull up a private browsing tab on your phone and search matthew healy wife. A grin spreads as you find no results, wider when girlfriend turns up nothing but a string of articles about his latest breakup. Switching to image searching, you scroll through dozens of photographs of him, posed and smiling, this time missing the sunglasses and letting you admire his sweet brown eyes. Then you come across a photo of him giving the camera the eyes, your thighs clenching as he smoulders in a way that feels directed to you, a twin of the look he gave you earlier.
You let your eyes fall closed, your phone thudding against the pillow as your hand creeps under your waistband. The first brush at your clit buzzes bright up your spine, a pleased whine falling from your lips. Instinctively, you dig under your pillow for your vibrator, your other hand tugging your skirt and panties down your legs. You lay in just your blouse and socks, the barest hint of wetness beginning to pool between your thighs.
The sudden pulse of heat as you press the vibrator to your clit is almost too much, your body tensing at the sensation. Your hazy mind conjures up an image of Matty, his spectre watching you touch yourself for him. He’s on you in seconds, the ghost of his kiss almost tangible against your lips, the idea of his calloused fingers running over your skin so real they almost feel like a memory. Rocking your hips, you chase the pleasure that rolls over you, coiling low in your belly. You can almost hear Matty murmuring encouragement in your ear, telling you how pretty and good you are for him.
Body writhing against the sheets, a whimper of his name spills from your bitten lips, pleading as you rub tight circles into your clit. Molten pleasure drips down your spine, sticking in your lungs and melting against your ribs. The phantasm of Matty’s touch trails over you, his hands replacing yours as you thumb over your nipples, moaning at the soft spark of pleasure that flickers under your skin.
It’s not enough.
Your hands are too delicate, too far from the memory of thick veins and scraping callouses that your body craves. Still, you work diligently at yourself, falling into a familiar rhythm. Your motions are perfunctory now, an aside to the fantasy building behind your closed lids. You picture Matty’s sleazy smirk, heat in his gaze as he rubs at you, working you closer and closer, filthy words pouring from his lips. Pleasure burns under your skin, close and electric under the sheets.
The coil in your belly winds tighter and tighter until it finally snaps, ecstasy rippling through your limbs as you bite down hard to keep a scream at bay. Rolling your hips, you ride out your orgasm, chest heaving as you gasp for breath and twist your fingers in your sheets.
Your face begins to flame as the afterglow wanes, the image of Matty fading and leaving a column of mortification in its place. God, how are you supposed to look him in the eyes after this? Flinging your covers off with a groan, you corral your thoughts into shape and march into the shower. Hot water pounds between your shoulder blades and you scrub at your skin until it’s pink and tender; you still don’t feel clean. It feels, suddenly, like you’re wearing a scarlet letter, like the evidence of your depravity is scrawled over your body in bold, dripping ink.
Still, you can’t stand under the shower spray forever, and the endless slog of summer reading you have to do won’t wait for your sudden crisis to be over. Taking a seat at your desk, you crack open a textbook and force yourself to stare at it until the words stop swimming in front of your eyes and you can process their meaning. You type up notes with practised ease, almost automatic and scarcely retaining the information. A chill grips you as you remember that this might be the rest of your life. 
A self-indulgent fantasy drifts across your mind, and you snatch at it greedily, rewarding yourself for your work with an unjustified distraction. Is it so much to ask that you want a life of ease? To be spoiled and showered in affection, to have no expectations on you? Maybe that makes you a lazy brat, a typical, self-absorbed princess, but you’ve worked damn hard the last three years. At graduation, you’d have your pick of droning, selfsame corporations if that was what you wanted; you’d have no difficulty following your father’s footsteps, letting your own daughter trace yours.
Truthfully, your private desire is much harder. Men that run in your circles want a woman like you, superficially — from the same stock, with your own family money, barely old enough to know who you are. Under the surface, though, you know women like that. They’re your aunts, the mothers of friends and old boyfriends. Unfulfilled, wearing dead-eyed Stepfordian smiles, finding their only pinched joy in passing snide insults dressed up as compliments, laughing behind their hands when their victim du jour takes the bait. No, being one of those wives would be the only fate worse than spending your decades as a spinning cog.
Without your notice, the sun has sunk beyond the horizon, a moonbeam slanting through your curtains when you switch your desk lamp off. You slip between your sheets, clad in a thin nightdress and low-waisted underwear, the thoughts that circle your brain winding slower and slower until they slip away like a whirlpool draining from the sink.
The next morning, you really are planning on taking school seriously, in line at a coffee shop with scholarly intent before 9:30. Impossibly, though, a familiar head of curls is waiting in the queue only feet ahead of you. Your heartbeat speeds as you debate whether to speak to him, hands clammy with nerves at the sight of him. You step up to the counter to order, and Matty’s head whips around at the sound of your voice.
“Oh! Hello, love,” he grins, and you smile back, hoping you don’t look as nervous as you feel. “Hey, no, I got it,” he says as you pull out your phone to pay. Matty taps his card before you can even react, then leans forward to address the barista. “Can I get mine for here instead? Is that okay? Thanks,” he flashes a winning smile and your heart flutters.
“Thank you,” you say shyly, toying anxiously with the buttons of your cardigan. 
He waves a hand, his smile almost dizzying as he looks down at you. There’s a faint dusting of stubble over his jaw, and you have to force yourself not to get distracted by thoughts of it scraping over your skin. “Don’t worry about it. Always happy to do a pretty girl a favour.” Your knees almost buckle, heat flooding your cheeks as you swallow thickly. Thankfully, the barista calls your orders and Matty goes to collect them, giving you a second to catch your breath. “Is it okay if I come sit with you? Just realised I never asked.” He grins sheepishly, and you practically melt into a puddle. “Don’t wanna distract you if you’ve got work to do, or something.”
“God, no, of course,” you say, suddenly a little panicked at the idea of him leaving. “Feel free. I mean, if you have time,” you add, a last-ditch attempt to feign casualness as you slide into a booth.
Matty sits opposite, observing you with an inscrutable look on his face before he speaks. “I’ve got time. I’m the boss, darling, they can wait.”
Your thighs clench, the casual reminder of his status sending a shudder up your spine as you smile blithely. Neither of you speaks for a moment, both taking in the sight of each other, testing the boundaries of this thing blooming between you. “Do you make a habit of taking time out of your busy day to have coffee with girls?” you say, tone teasing to conceal that you’re truly curious about the answer.
He grins. “Like I said, I do whatever I like,” he says with a shrug. “If I wanted to, I don’t know, spend my morning having coffee with a pretty girl, well. Nobody would be surprised, let’s say.” It’s a non-answer, and you swallow down the jealousy that starts to rise in your throat.
“You keep calling me pretty…” you remark idly, pausing to sip delicately at your coffee before you speak. “I’m starting to think you might have an ulterior motive, Mr. Healy.” You tack on the title with a smirk, leaning forward in challenge.
Matty swallows, slightly unnerved for the first time. “I think you’re pretty,” he says simply. “Don’t have to have any motives. Unless you want me to,” he adds with a smirk.
“And if I do? What’s that say about you, sir? Chasing after a twenty-year-old girl? Quite inappropriate, wouldn’t you say?”
He chuckles softly, eyes darkening. A shock of heat sparks under your skin as he takes your hand, gaze searching. “Very,” Matty agrees lowly. “Good, sweet young girl like you shouldn’t be getting mixed up with me, angel.” Something in you flutters at the nickname, the way it rolls thoughtlessly off his tongue.
“I don’t have to be good,” you say, deliberately widening your eyes and biting your lip in a show of innocence. “I can be naughty. If you want.” You lean back and deliberately pop a button on your blouse, a hint of pink lace peeking out from the gap in your shirt.
Matty tips his head back, nostrils flaring as he inhales deeply, eyes closed and trying to compose himself. “What am I going to do with you?” he mutters, more to himself, unable to drag his gaze up from the sliver of exposed skin.
“You’ll just have to keep playing and find out,” you smirk, purposefully leaning forward as you stand to give him a deliberate eyeful. “Have a nice day, Mr. Healy. Thank you for the coffee.” His gaze burns hot into your back as you walk away, and you make a conscious effort not to look back. You’re slightly annoyed as you wander down the street — that cafe is your favourite study spot, and you’ve effectively handed it away. You’ll never be able to set foot in there without remembering Matty’s smirk, his heavy gaze, the feeling of his hand over yours.
So, despite your best intentions, you find yourself spending the morning dipping in and out of stores instead, smiling blithely as your bank account dwindles. In the end, your evening winds up the same as yesterday, mindlessly copying up text without absorbing any of the information. You’re gonna kick yourself so hard when you have to use these notes to take an exam. Giving up, you shower and get into bed, shutting your phone off to sleep at around midnight.
When you stir, you know acutely that you’re dreaming. The bed is your own, the man sharing it is not. “Morning,” Matty says, in a low, sleep-thick voice that seems so real you can scarcely believe your mind conjured it up. He kisses your nose, your cheek, the hollow of your throat, but never your lips, as if your subconscious is saving the memory for the real thing.
“Hi,” you giggle, savouring the heat of his body against yours, willing yourself still for fear of the barest shift ruining your dreamscape. Matty’s hands run over you, one taking a firm hold of your ass, the other pinching gently at your nipple.
You whimper, and he gives a mocking pout. “Needy, hm?” You nod, eyes wide and pleading, and he cups your pussy, your hips rolling as you chase your pleasure against his hand. Arousal drips out of you, soaking your panties as Matty grinds the heel of his palm against your clit. Your head swims in pleasure, distracted and flailing as the dream blurs around you. Whining, you try desperately to grasp onto the vestiges, convinced that one last touch would have brought you there.
Eyes twitching open, morning light slants through the crack in your curtains, a gentle kiss over your sweat-slick skin. Embarrassingly, like you’re a hormonal adolescent again, there’s a throw pillow wedged between your legs, desire soaking into it through your ruined panties. An experimental thrust of your hips sends a scattered, delicious burst of pleasure up your spine, but you refuse to indulge yourself, already humiliated without feeling that sudden, crushing guilt again.
Once again, you force yourself under a punishingly hot shower, and once again, you can’t scrub yourself free of the sin. It becomes something of a routine; three more nights you dream of him, and three more mornings you try your hardest to melt the flesh off your bones in an effort to forget. The fourth night, the day before you’ll see him again, your sleep is mercifully dreamless, though you still wake with him on your mind. You stand in front of your wardrobe, hands balanced on your hips as your gaze darts between two dresses.
You need to be stunning, fuckable in a way that caters to Matty’s tastes perfectly. The amount of time you’ve spent scrolling through pictures of him with old girlfriends would surely be impressive if it wasn’t embarrassing, but it’s helped you narrow your choices down to two options. There’s a wine-red number, the thigh slit so high it practically bares your ass and the neckline plunging almost to indecency — it’s reminiscent of how his last girlfriend dressed, simple, dark elegance, deep hues paired with bold, striking makeup. Then, there’s a floor-length, pastel-pink silk gown, evidence of the virtue you’ll pretend to possess until you can show him just how dirty you can be.
The second dress speaks to you, more similar both to your own style and that of the youngest girl he’s ever dated. She was still older than you, though, you think wryly, four years ago twenty-three to his thirty. That being said, you wouldn’t be surprised to find he’d fucked every college girl from here to Edinburgh whose father had so much looked at her askance once. The thought sends a ripple of jealousy through you and you shudder, picturing dozens of faceless girls under him until you want to tear your hair out. The man practically has you in a chokehold, and you’ve met him once.
Your rational brain knows it’s crazy, that the idealised version of him built up in your mind means he’ll only disappoint, but you’re almost sure you’ll get a good fuck out of it at the very least. More, if you play your cards well enough.
With ribbons in your hair, silk gloves over your hands and a string of pearls at your throat, you pose in the mirror, practising your teasing pout, your innocent smile, the eyes that say please, sir, let me make you feel good. Your mother shouts your name, and you follow the sound down the stairs and across the foyer, smiling blithely at your parents as they take in the sight of you.
Okay, maybe you’ve laid on the innocence too thick, your makeup subtly widening your eyes and faintly flushing your cheeks. But there’s nothing technically wrong with your outfit, so your mother simply heaves a sigh and leads you out to the car. You arrive perfectly, politely on time, pose quickly for the few cameras and take your seats. Wait staff linger discreetly around, filling champagne flutes thanklessly, as if they exist on a plane below the guests’ notice.
You have to bite back a grin when the placard beside the empty seat at your table reads Matthew Healy; by some magnanimous twist of fate, he’ll be directly across from you, giving you an excuse to gaze at him as long as you like. He’s late, but only fashionably so, smirking and doling out insincere apologies as he saunters to the table. You don’t stand until everyone else has, playing clueless as Matty greets everyone around the table politely.
When he reaches you, his eyes flicker over you in a way that has your knees threatening to buckle, and you finally let yourself take him in properly. He looks fucking gorgeous, dressed in another expensive suit, his curls gelled back with that same smell of cigarettes and cologne seeping from his pores. He leans forward, brushing his lips against the apple of your cheek, and you almost moan at the contact your body has been craving for days. “You look stunning, darling,” he murmurs, so quiet that you could almost be convinced you’d imagined it, if not for the dark look in his eyes when he pulls back. 
A half smile pulls at your lips as he sits down, one of the ubiquitous, black-clad waiters coming forward to fill his glass. The conversation quickly turns to business you couldn’t care less about, giving the automated, reflex responses to questions you’ve heard hundreds of times. You pay attention only when Matty speaks, the low timbre of his voice addictive even when he’s not addressing you. Emboldened by his heavy gaze and the significant looks he fixes you with each time his eyes land on yours, you slip a stockinged foot out of your shoe and trace it across his calf. His eyes widen a fraction, and he raises his glass and an eyebrow in your direction, his gaze laden with promise.
There’s still time before any food gets brought out, and after a few minutes, Matty offers to take you on a spin, introduce you to some of the more important people in suits that are clustered around the room. Your father preens, convinced you’ve made such an impression in the bare moments you’ve held your own in conversation that he wants to mentor you, or something. You accept gratefully, his proprietary hold on your arm falling low to your waist as soon as you’re out of your father’s sight, the heat of his palm splayed over your hip hard to believe. “Let me get you a drink,” he says, steering you to the bar. The crowd parts around him, conversations going quiet like he’s some kind of divine figure, taking a nod and a brief greeting like a blessing from on high. “You’ll need one to deal with this lot,” he adds, jerking a thumb at the gathered crowd, still murmuring awed in his wake.
Smiling, you take a seat at the bar, letting Matty flag down the bartender before you speak. “What’ll you have, darling?”
“Surprise me,” you grin, batting your eyelashes teasingly at him. “So, you hate this stuff, huh?”
Matty huffs a surprised laugh as the bartender pours him a glass of top-shelf red and hands you an Aperol spritz. “Is it that obvious?”
You take a long, slow sip of your drink, watching the way his eyes fall to your lips, pursed around the straw. “I don’t think so. Not to anyone here, anyway. They’re all too worried about what everyone else thinks of them to worry about what anyone else is thinking.”
Something shifts in his expression as he takes in your words, suddenly appraising you critically as a person with thoughts, rather than just a pretty face he wants to take to bed. And he does. Want to take you to bed, that is. His eyes are wide, dilated, his tongue unconsciously wetting his lips more often, his gaze trained on your face so it doesn’t fall further. “Beautiful and smart,” he says finally, leaning back in his chair, all at once dropping the intensity and sinking easily back into irreverence.
“I try,” you say with an artfully careless shrug, letting one of the thin straps of your dress fall from your shoulder, enjoying the way Matty’s eyes trace the movement. There’s a dance in this, a skill; overt flirting between the pair of you, a casual, if laden, conversation to an observer.
“I want to do bad things to you in that dress,” Matty says, low and sudden, a bolt of arousal striking you at your core.
You match his tone. “Like what?”
“The kind of things a man like me shouldn’t be thinking about doing to a girl like you.”
“So, why don’t you?” you challenge, a flicker of carefully masked surprise crossing his face as you drop your facade of naïveté. “There’s always somewhere private at a party like this,” you say, implication heavy in your tone, spreading your legs slightly and licking your lips.
A muscle jumps in Matty’s jaw, jealousy and lust warring in his expression as he pictures you crowded up against a bathroom sink, mouth parted and eyes glassy. “S’that what you’re used to? A quick fuck in a bathroom with some pathetic boy?” He leans close, delivering his next words slow and quiet. “I’m not going to do that, princess,” he says with a disparaging scoff, the sobriquet sending heat pooling between your legs. “Have you ever fucked a man, angel?”
Swallowing your moan, your thighs clench as you whisper, “No.”
“Good. Means I get to show you how it should really feel. Because when I fuck you for the first time, I’m going to make you fall apart for me. Piece by pretty, perfect piece. Shall we?” he adds, standing and offering you a hand without giving you any time to process his words.
You swallow thickly, accepting his hand and standing on unsteady legs. True to his word, he introduces you to what feels like an endless string of people. Their faces all blur together, your body working on autopilot to churn out pleasantries as your mind turns over Matty’s words, spinning them over and over like a coin set on its edge.
“Stay right here,” you whisper to him as he starts to head back to your table, and you’re pleased to find when you return from the bathroom that he’s obeyed. As discreetly as possible, you press the scrap of lace you peeled off from under your dress into his hand. The sound of his choked-off inhale is infinitely gratifying, and you savour his gaze at your back as you stride away, a deliberate sway in your hips.
 By the time you’re back at the table, a thick wedge of business cards is tucked neatly into your purse to be left there and forgotten about until you shake them onto the floor the next time you need the bag. All but the one sitting on the very top, with Matty’s personal number scrawled on the back. He doesn’t take his eyes off you all through dinner, his hand dipping into his pocket at every free moment, the knowledge that his fingers are running over your panties driving you wild. Your legs cross so you don’t start dripping on the seat as you throw pleading glances at Matty every chance you get.
You practically chase him to the bar as dinner winds down, draping yourself over him as much as you dare. “I need you,” you whine, pressing a hand to his inner thigh, feeling the heat of him through his suit trousers. “I can’t wait anymore,” you plead, as close to begging as you can get without prostrating yourself on the floor in front of him.
Matty laughs, condescending. “Needy girl,” he pouts, crooking a finger under your chin. “If you were anyone else, I’d take you home right now, fuck all of these people. But we can’t have that, can we?” he teases. “Because you’re a good girl, yeah? And what would people think, good girl like you all spread out for a dirty old man like me?”
A pathetic whine slips from your lips, lust overtaking you even as the gears start to turn in your mind. “Take me home,” you beg, pulse hammering in your throat at the very prospect. “I can make an excuse, say I’m meeting friends or something. I’m a big girl, they won’t care as long as they don’t know where I actually am. Please?” you pout, leaning so close that your breath kisses across his lips. “I’ll be so good for you, I promise.”
And Matty is only a man, with a man’s self-control. He’s had a few more years to refine it, but he’ll never be immune. “Go on, then, sweetheart. Make your excuses and meet me out front, yeah?” He gives your ass a firm slap as you stand, the brief flash of pain melting into sticky desire that hums under your skin.
You spin a lie to your parents, some story that your friends are in a bar a few streets away, and surely they don’t mind if you slip away just a few minutes early? Honestly, they’re ecstatic you stayed as long as you did, waving you off with unsuspecting smiles. Then, before you know it, you’re in a taxi with Matty, your thigh pressed against his, one of his hands tracing a pattern into your skin. You crowd closer to him, struggling to breathe as lust swallows all the air between you.
He stays teasingly out of your reach, tutting softly when you chase his lips. “You promised to be good for me, princess,” he admonishes, trailing his hand further up your thigh. You obey, squirming as you fall back into your seat, his fingers cruelly close to where you need them. “Good girl. You want me to touch you?” Matty murmurs, leaning in to breathe the words against the shell of your ear, a shudder rolling up your spine at his closeness. You nod, bating your breath as his fingers find the wetness between your legs. “Nice and still for me, yeah, darling?”
Pleasure floods you when the pad of his finger finds your clit, the gentle scrape over your sensitive nerves somehow blinding, your hips rolling as you chase the sensation. “Matty, please,” you moan, pouting pathetically when he takes his hand away.
“You’re not being very good, love. Still, remember? You can sit and keep your hands to yourself until we get home, understand?” You nod, sinking back in your seat and sulking. “Don’t be a brat, princess,” Matty chides, closing his lips around his wet fingers, sucking your arousal off them with an exaggerated moan. “Just a few more minutes and I’ll give you what you need, yeah? Sweet, needy girl.”
You flush at the praise, at the way he can switch from gentle to commanding and back in a second. Your blood is thick with desire, heart working in overdrive to pump it through your body. Then, with no ceremony, the end of the most agonising minutes of your life is signalled by the crunching of gravel under tyres. Matty leads you into the house, his control on a tight leash until the door clicks shut behind you.
He all but slams you against it, crowding into your space, his breath hot on your lips. His smell of cigarettes and cologne envelops you, fills your lungs, dizzying and intoxicating. “Please?” you whine, and he finally, gloriously obliges. Your lips crash together, a messy slide of spit and teeth and tongue that leaves you bruised and begging.
Matty’s hands fall to your ass, squeezing hard at the soft flesh, pliant under his touch as his nails bite crescent-moons of desire into your skin. “Can you jump for me, baby?” he asks, breaking away from you just long enough to breathe the words against your lips. Your legs wrap instinctively around his waist, your dress hiked up so far that it bares your cunt as Matty grips you by the thighs.
Pleasure spreads slowly through you as you grind yourself against him, his lips falling to your neck as he carries you up the stairs, a squeal escaping you as he tosses you on the bed. He stands at the foot of the bed, breathing hard, greedily drinking in the sight of you. “Take that dress off. Now.” His tone leaves no room for argument, practically puppeteering you, expensive silk crumpled on the floor before you can even react. “Gorgeous,” Matty murmurs, one hand coming up to unbutton his shirt. “Can you touch yourself for me? Wanna see how to make you feel good.”
“Uh-huh,” you murmur, eyes fixed on the inches of skin being revealed, a covering dragged off a masterpiece. Dark ink peeks from the V of his shirt, dissonant from the toned, marble skin surrounding it. Impatient, you dip two fingers into yourself, the familiar stretch sending heat shooting up your spine. Gasping, you pinch at your clit, rolling it between two fingers, hips rocking as you moan wantonly up at him.
“Good girl. Does that feel good, princess?”
“Not as good as you,” you pout, fucking yourself desperately on your fingers. “Daddy,” you add, watching that final thread break, Matty’s eyes going dark as he collapses on the bed above you. He kicks off his trousers ungracefully, tugging your hand up to his lips.
His warm mouth closes around your fingers, sucking the taste of your desire off them with a moan. “Such a dirty little girl, dressed up all innocent like that when you just wanna be ruined by your fuckin’ Daddy.” His clothed cock grinds against your aching, soaked core, the contact achingly close to what you need, and yet agonisingly far. “You taste so good, angel. Want me to eat that sweet little pussy of yours?”
Your mind swims at the thought, his skilled, clever tongue buried between your legs, your hands tight in his curls as he devours you. But that isn’t what you need. You shake your head. “Want you to fuck me,” you say, the simmering well of desire endless in the pit of your stomach. “I need it. Please?”
“Oh, sweet girl,” Matty croons, shoving his boxers down his legs. You watch his cock spring free, thudding hot and sticky against his belly. “You want my fingers first, or can you take me all by yourself?”
The subtle condescension sets you on fire, liquefying your brain and sending it flooding down your spine, dripping out of you onto the mattress. You reach down, wrap your hand around him and pump slowly, swallowing his quiet hiss against your mouth. “I can take it, Daddy,” you promise, wide, innocent eyes turned on him.
The stretch when he enters you burns gloriously, your mouth falling open in a perfect, round ‘O’ of ecstasy. Matty fills you slowly, burying himself to the hilt, so deep that you can practically feel him rearranging your insides. “Such a good girl, takin’ all of me like this,” he praises. Discomposed, his accent thickens, rounding the vowels and blurring the ends of his words. Matty rocks his hips one shallow thrust striking a spot inside you that has your vision whiting out, ecstasy buzzing in your heavy limbs. “That felt good, huh? Yeah. I know, I know,” he soothes, swallowing your whines with wet, deliberate kisses, tongue sweeping every corner of your mouth and teeth grazing your lips.
Matty pulls almost all the way out of you, your body crying out at the loss, then slams his hips against yours so hard you see stars. “M-Matty, fuck,” you whimper, back arching desperately as he fucks you into the mattress, hard and fast, the obscene sound of skin meeting ringing out around you.
“Ah-ah. That’s not my name tonight, princess.”
His hips still, the waves of pleasure subsiding in punishment. “‘M sorry, Daddy,” you whine, bringing your hand down to rub at your clit, bright heat bursting between your legs.
“That’s it, angel,” Matty murmurs, pinching softly at your nipple with one calloused hand. “So beautiful all fucked out for me. I’m the only one who can get you like this, huh?”
Subtle jealousy hums in his tone, his kiss turning possessive as you writhe under him. “Yeah,” you whimper breathily. “Never had it this good before.” It’s not a lie. Your body feels at once wound into a coil and loose on your bones, the point where your hips meet your only anchor to your physical form.
Matty scoffs. “That’s because you’ve only fucked boys, princess.  Never had a man before, have you?”
“N-no, Daddy,” you whine, rubbing frantically at your clit, Matty’s rhythmic groans warm against your lips.
His lips fall to your neck, kissing and biting against your tender skin, the scrape of teeth a flash of pain undercutting your desire but gentle enough not to bruise. “That’s right, baby. ‘M your fuckin’ Daddy. Wanna be my girl, huh? Could have you like this whenever you want, never let you worry about anything, ‘cept staying all pretty and cockdrunk for me.”
Oh, God. How does he know? Involuntarily, your legs wrap around his waist, the new angle rapturous as his thrusts continue, long and so deep you practically choke on them. “Mm-hmm. Yeah. Could just be your little toy, never think unless you told me to. Want that so bad, Daddy.”
Matty’s eyes light up, wide and liquid with desire, your heartbeat hammering in your cunt as it throbs around him. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs. “Sweet girl. You wanna be my dumb little slut, huh? Want Daddy to fuck you stupid, turn you into my pretty fucktoy?” The words turn you to liquid, dripping and sticky under his skilled hands. “Yeah, you do,” he grins, arrogant and cocksure, your mind melting into fantasies of being Matty’s kept girl, of bending over with a smile whenever he liked, of spending your days keeping yourself pretty for him, and your nights split open like this. “I can feel how bad you want that, your pretty cunt keeps squeezing me so fuckin’ tight, angel.”
“‘M close,” you whimper, the words choked from your closing throat, desire clamping down on your body like a vice.
“Good girl,” Matty whispers, one of his hands joining yours at your clit, the pressure suddenly dramatically intense, every nerve in your body firing as one. “Cum for me, angel,” he orders, and your body obeys.
You come unglued from yourself, feel it in your whole body, euphoria crushing the air from your lungs. Your cunt pulses, thumping a sick rhythm in tune with Matty’s thrusts into you. Barely conscious, you feel amorphous, a messy string of liquid desire more than a corporeal girl. WIth a final, low groan, Matty spills inside of you, painting your insides white.
A whine escapes you as he pulls out, the loss tangible in your heavy limbs. “Oh, I know, baby, I know,” he soothes, falling beside you and cupping your jaw to kiss you tenderly.
“Thank you, Daddy,” you murmur shakily, and a soft smile brushes at his lips.
“So polite,” he says reverently. “Such a good girl.”
You pout at him and drag two fingers through your slick, messy cunt, sucking the taste of both of you off your fingers. Matty gasps, eyes wide, and you smile around your wet fingers. “You want more, darling?”
You nod frantically, the fire under your skin still raging, ferocious and uncontrollable. Weakly, you lift your head, transfixed to where his cum trickles out of you, pooling white on the mattress. “We taste so good together,” you tell him, without taking your eyes off your ruined core. “Looks so good, your cum dripping out of me. Want you to finger it out of me. Please?” you add, pouting until he kisses you gently, breaking away to smile against your lips. 
“Whatever you want, you’ll get, princess.” His fingers find your hole, teasing at you for a moment before toying with your sensitive clit, a stab of pleasure-pain winding sharply through you. “S’that sore, darling?”
“A bit,” you say, your body lax as he plays with you gently. All the urgency is gone now you’ve both come, the air honey-thick, your breathing slow and deliberate. “Feels good, though.”
Matty’s fingers are broad and thick as he pushes two of them inside you, your soaked cunt accepting him easily. He crooks his fingers, brushing that sweet spot that sets your nerves alight, and begins a slow rhythm. Lewd, wet sounds echo off the walls as you both watch his fingers disappear where you take him, cum leaking out around them.
An orgasm builds slowly at the base of your spine, your body jolting as Matty’s thumb comes up to circle over your clit. He swallows your sudden moan, languid kisses that have your eyes fluttering closed and let you fall into a daydream as he brings you closer.
“Mmm, can I cum again? Please?” you moan, hips rolling down to meet him. Pleasure swims hazy through your head, your blood syrup-thick and heavy with it.
“Can you hold it for a minute, baby? For me? Just wanna watch that pretty cunt of yours taking my fingers a little longer.” You whimper as he curls his long fingers inside of you, trembling with the effort of holding your orgasm at bay. “You make such pretty sounds, princess. Tell me who you belong to and I’ll let you cum, okay?”
“‘M yours, Daddy. Your good little girl,” you promise, words coming out slurred, your tongue too thick in your mouth.
“That’s right, baby,” Matty says, encouraging, grasping possessively at your hip. “All mine, yeah? Go on, princess. Cum,” he instructs, curling his fingers against your g-spot and rubbing a harsh circle into your clit in the same, breathless moment.
All the air crushes out of your lungs, white-hot pleasure melting your brain into liquid. Matty croons reassurances as you writhe under him, the thickness of his fingers visceral where you clench around him. You moan his name over and over in a litany, tasting something divine where the word spills from your lips.
You float back down to Earth, blissed-out and smiling, adoration in Matty’s gaze as he watches you. “There you are, sweet girl,” he grins, warm hand stroking gently up and down your side. “How do you feel?”
“God, incredible,” you answer, stretching back and luxuriating against his pillows. “Best fuck I’ve ever had,�� you grin, watching his jaw clench at the reminder that you’ve fucked other people.
“Ruined you for other men, have I?” he says, smug smirk pulling at his lips.
“Other boys,” you correct airily. “Men like you know what they’re doing. Maybe you’ve given me a taste for it. Maybe I’ll fuck my way through the office, get all those men you see every day eating out of my hand.”
Matty practically snarls, silencing you with a harsh kiss. “Those fucking pricks couldn’t make you cum if their lives depended on it. Believe me, darling, I’m the best you’ll ever have,” he promises, and you give a quiet giggle. Your eyes are heavy even as electricity still buzzes under your skin, and you yawn, catlike, and settle against his bare chest. “Tired, angel?” he says, a hint of humour in his tone.
“Right shattered me, haven’t you?” you complain, swatting playfully at him. “Can I stay?”
“‘Course, darling. Long as you like,” Matty says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Want me to make you something to eat? Can’t have my girl going hungry after I’ve worn her out like that.” The casualness with which he flings the words my girl sends your heart racing, one of his hands coming up to cup your jaw then trailing up to play with your hair. It’s all so sickeningly domestic, more intimate than when he had you split open and dizzy under him.
“Sounds nice,” you say sleepily, but whine when he moves to get up.
You pout when Matty tugs on his discarded boxers, and he chuckles softly. “What?” he adds as your frown deepens, watching him pull on a pair of grey joggers.
“Was looking at you,” you say sulkily. “You have a cute ass.”
His head tips back as he laughs, baring the sloping column of his neck gorgeously, his curls bouncing with the movement. “Are you objectifying me?” he grins, mock-affronted.
“Yes,” you say immediately, sitting up and tracing your gaze deliberately over his chest, muscles rippling as he breathes. Your attention falls to the tattoo at his hip, half-hidden by his joggers, and the sudden need to taste the skin there overtakes you. “What else is a big, strong man like you good for? Fucking me right and cooking me dinner, and looking gorgeous doing it,” you tease, sucking in a sharp breath when he crosses the room in two strides and catches your jaw in a harsh grip.
“Don’t be a brat, princess. ‘Cause then I’ll have to show you what I’m fucking good for.”
“Okay,” you breathe against his lips, trailing your hand down his chest and thumbing over the tattoo, savouring the way Matty shudders under your touch.
The air under your hand goes cold as he steps away. “Needy girl,” he grins. “Food first, yeah? You want me to bring it up here? Serve my princess dinner in bed?” There’s that my again, one tiny, thoughtless syllable sending a thousand fantasies flickering behind your eyes. “Or do you wanna come down with me?”
You slip out from under the covers and set your feet on the floor, only for your knees to buckle when you try to stand. “Fucked me so good my legs don’t work,” you say with a weak laugh, smiling softly when Matty comes to fuss over you. “Can you carry me downstairs?”
“Here,” Matty says, handing you a shirt and boxers that are probably too small for him; they dwarf you, the shirt swallowing you while the boxers hang indecently low on your hips. At the sight of you in his clothes, he stops still, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply for a long moment. “Look fucking gorgeous wearing my clothes, darling. C’mere, I can carry you if you want,” he offers, scooping you into his arms.
Nestled happy against his warm, bare chest, you notice for the first time how fucking big his house is. It’s almost brutalist, but still homey, evidently lived-in. Framed photographs and prints litter the walls, slightly wilted flowers sitting in a vase atop a gorgeous upright piano.
“D’you play?” Matty asks, catching you admiring it.
“Since I was a kid. Do you?”
He huffs out a laugh above you. “You think I’d have a fifty grand piano sitting around that I don’t play?”
You shrug as best you can, still wrapped in his arms. “My parents have a baby grand that nobody played until I came along. It’s like a status symbol, or something, I dunno.”
“Yes, I play. The guitar too,” he adds, slowly strolling in the direction of the kitchen.
The realisation dawns on you, and your mouth drops in an ‘O’ of understanding. “So that’s why your hands are like that. I don’t know why I didn’t put that together. You’re hardly the type for hard labour.”
Matty laughs, setting you down on the kitchen counter. “You don’t know,” he teases, pressing a featherlight kiss against your cheek. “I could’ve been a mechanic in a past life.”
The thought of him, sweaty and dripping in grease, bending you over the hood of a car, makes your head spin, and he smirks as your jaw goes slack. “I wish,” you grin as he retrieves a pan from an upper cabinet, flexing the muscles in his back gratuitously with the movement. ement.
“What are you feeling like? Eggs? Pasta?” he offers, setting the pan on the stove.
You mull it over for a moment. “Can you make me French toast?”
“‘Course I can, baby.” You watch his hands as he cracks two eggs in a bowl, whisking them together with cinnamon and sugar. He steps between your legs as the bread sizzles in the pan with a healthy spoonful of melted butter, kissing at your neck and jaw. In the light, the fading hickeys scattered over your skin are visible, and he prods jealously at them. “Who gave you these?” he says, gravel in his voice.
Shrugging airily, you smirk up at him. “Some boy,” you tease, Matty’s nostrils flaring as he fights to control his reaction.
“Did he make you cum?” he asks, nails biting possessively into your hips.
“We didn’t get that far. Just made out on the couch. He was a good kisser, though.” At that, Matty captures your lips, kissing you slow and deep, the lingering taste of red wine filling your mouth. The kiss is hard, almost aggressive, like he’s trying to forcibly erase the memory of any kiss you’ve ever had. He bites gently at your lower lip as he pulls away, not hard enough to sting, but enough for you to read the message in the action. “Careful. Don’t burn my toast.”
A mumbled fuck makes you giggle, and he turns to flip the bread in the pan. “Don’t worry, angel. Still perfect.” He watches you as he speaks, wide brown eyes liquid and luminous, framed by delicate lashes.
Still, if he gets to be jealous, so do you. “Do you make midnight snacks for all the girls?” you ask, swinging your legs back and forth off the counter.
“Can’t say I do, darling.”
The implication of his words thuds hard in your chest, a warm flicker of hope striking to life like a match under your skin. “What’s so special about me?”
“Good girl like you deserves the princess treatment. ‘Specially from a dirty old man like me,” he grins, sliding your toast onto a plate. The sudden reminder of your age gap, of the scandal you’d cause if even a whisper of this got out, sends a shuddering thrill up your spine. Matty hands you the plate, topped with icing sugar and drizzled with syrup, and you tuck in eagerly. 
He picks up a pack of cigarettes from the counter, eyebrows going up when you go to reach for one. “What? I’m not always a good girl.”
“Oh, I know, love,” Matty smirks, lit cigarette dangling indecently from his lips. “Can’t have you ruining your pretty lungs, though. Here,” he says, pulling deeply on the cigarette and then pressing his open mouth to yours. Grey smoke curls from your parted lips as you suck in the smoke greedily. He shotguns you half the cigarette, your head light as the nicotine buzz hits.
You drink in the sight of him as you eat, taking advantage of the light to appreciate the finer details of him. The gentle glow of the cigarette where it sits between his plush, pink lips, the joggers obscenely low on his hips, the V of muscle that points tantalisingly down, a light trail of hair disappearing into his waistband.
“You wanna go back to bed, angel?” Matty smirks, the air between you shifting as he meets your gaze, eyes darkened.
You scoff. “Bed’s boring. You have this whole fucking house, and you wanna take me back to bed?”
Matty crowds close to you, stealing a kiss and dropping to his knees. “Alright, princess.” His fingers dig into your hips as he eases his boxers off you, dipping his head to kiss at your bare thighs. A filthy smirk spreads wide across his lips as he looks up at you. “You’ve eaten. Now it’s my turn,” he promises, and your giggle turns to a moan when his tongue meets your centre.
He devours you like he’s been starved, lapping at your still-soaked cunt in a toe-curling rhythm. A sudden flash of pleasure-pain strikes sharply where his teeth scrape at the tender flesh of your thigh, sucking and biting hard enough to bruise. A quiet moan tumbles from your lips, and you squeeze your thighs around his head to urge him back to your cunt. Obediently, he wraps his lips around your clit, the pressure at your sensitive bundle of nerves making your head spin. “C’mon, princess. You make such pretty sounds, I know you can be louder than that.”
Matty sets a dizzying pace, tongue-fucking you with fervour. Burying your hands in his hair, you shift so you can rest your legs over his shoulders, the new angle letting him drive his tongue even deeper inside you. Heat roils in your belly, winding around your organs, entangling sweetly with your veins. “Fuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips against his face wantonly. “Feels s’good, Daddy,” you moan out, gasping as Matty curls his tongue perfectly inside you, white-hot pleasure buzzing up your spine.
“Gorgeous,” he murmurs and tilts his head up to look at you, his lips and chin practically dripping with your slick. He sucks another bruise into your sensitive skin, kissing over the mark apologetically. Your skin is on fire, tension pulling tight in all your limbs at once. “Taste so fucking good,” he moans, kissing softly at your cunt, his laugh ghosting over your skin as you flutter needily in response. “Could spend the rest of my fuckin’ life between these pretty thighs, darling.”
Your head is hazy, barely coherent thoughts drifting in and out, an incomprehensible plea falling from your lips. Matty won’t let you get complacent with a rhythm, switching between broad, flat strokes over your cunt, deep thrusts into you and sucking on your clit so fast it deliriates you. “‘M close,” you whine, tugging hard on his curls as ecstasy builds at the base of your spine. “Wanna cum for you,” you add, a hint of begging in your tone.
“Say please, darling.” The words vibrate gloriously in your cunt, a shock of pleasure rolling over you.
“Please, Daddy, I wanna cum. Need it so bad,” you plead, whimpering when he scrapes his teeth over your clit, fighting to hold your orgasm at bay until he gives you permission.
“Go on, princess. Cum for Daddy, yeah?” The words are all you need, a string of obscenities interspersed with breathless moans of his name tumbling from your lips as pure euphoria overtakes you. Hot pleasure cascades over you, racing down your spine and along every nerve in your body. You writhe against Matty’s mouth, half-convinced you’ve left your body behind, made of pure sensation.
Boneless, you slump backward, sure you could fall asleep on the cool granite of Matty’s kitchen counter. He catches you, steadying, and gathers you back into his arms. “Thank you, Daddy,” you smile up at him, curling into his chest.
The thump of his heartbeat is soothing as he picks you up again. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs fondly. “Now do you want me to take you back to bed?” he adds, grinning teasingly. He carries you back to his room, laying you softly against the pillows and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Just need you awake for a few more minutes, sweetheart. Need to get you cleaned up, then you can sleep, yeah?” He’s so tender, speaking softly and petting your hair for a moment before he fetches a damp cloth. Running it softly over you, he makes soothing sounds at your pained whimpers. “I know, baby, I know. ‘M sorry. Just a little more, okay?”
You’re half-asleep by the time Matty climbs into bed with you, sweeping your hair off the back of your neck and kissing softly at the skin there. An arm drapes over your waist, the pressure warm and soothing. “I wanna be your girl,” you mumble, more than half-asleep, barely conscious of the words as they slip unbidden from your lips. You’re unconscious before you hear his reply.
You’re sore in the morning, momentarily disoriented by the weight of a body in bed with you, before last night comes flooding back and you smile to yourself. “Morning, princess,” Matty murmurs, voice low and sleep-thick in your ear.
“Good morning,” you smile, stretching out your muscles and arching your back. Matty hisses as your ass meets his hips, his hardness pressing against you. “Oh, very good morning, hm?” Turning to face him, you reach down, slipping your hand under his waistband to palm his cock. He twitches under your touch, a sleepy moan falling from his lips as he rolls his hips into your hand. “Wanna suck your cock,” you murmur, his reaction visceral in your palm.
“Such a sweet girl,” he says, sliding his boxers off as you climb over him. You kiss his neck, the hollow of his throat, working your way down his chest. Indulgently, you bite a bruise into his chest, a twin to the ones that litter your thighs. You trace your tongue over the tattoo at his hip, his body shuddering at the sensation. His cock twitches against your lips as you press a kiss to the head, the taste of salt filling your mouth when you lick your lips.
You mouth at him teasingly for a moment, needy whines filling the air above you. Having power over him this time is intoxicating, and you hold his hips down as he tries to thrust into your mouth. “Not so fast,” you grin. “Keep still and hands to yourself, remember?” Matty swears softly as you repeat his words back to him, hands fisting in the sheets.
Teasing him for a few more moments, you kiss at his lower belly, smirking as he trembles under your lips, cock drooling. The moan Matty lets out when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock is obscene, low and keening, and you dip your head to take him in deeper. “That’s it,” he murmurs, threading a hand gently in your hair. “C’mon, sweet girl, just a little further. I know you can take it, angel.” The encouragement sends a shudder through you, liquid pleasure pooling between your thighs.
Obediently, you relax your throat, sinking further until your nose meets his skin. “Good girl,” Matty says. “Good fucking girl, takin’ me so well. So fuckin’ pretty all stretched out around my cock.” Saliva pools under your tongue, dripping helplessly from the corners of your mouth. “Fuck,” he groans, thrusting gently into your mouth. “Such a pretty slut, fuckin’ drooling on my cock.”
You pull off him, a string of saliva connecting your skin for a split-second. “‘M your slut, Daddy. Can go harder, if you want,” you say, wrapping your hand around his cock, spit-soaked and dripping, and pump slowly. You lave at him for a moment, licking messy stripes over his cock before taking him all the way in one motion.
Matty groans, bucking his hips. “You want me to fuck your pretty mouth, huh, angel?” His hand tightens in your hair as he thrusts into your mouth, the stretch in the corners of your mouth gorgeous.
“You can do better than that,” you murmur. “Want it hard. I won’t break. Unless you want me to,” you add with a grin, moaning around his cock as you swallow him back down. Finally, gloriously, Matty fucks into your mouth, sets a deep, punishing pace. He pulls you by your hair, the sting in your scalp divine as he uses you; you let yourself slip out of your body, sinking into the warm, fuzzy feeling of being his toy.
“That’s right, baby. Fucking made to take my cock, yeah? Good little girl just wants to be Daddy’s cocksleeve.” The filthy words wash over you, thighs clenching as arousal thrums low in your belly. Wetness pools between your legs and you slip a hand down your body to rub at your clit. The soft spark of pleasure grants you the briefest relief, and you moan around his cock. He’s losing control, the movement of his hips turning sloppy as your throat burns raw. “Fuck,” Matty hisses. “Gonna cum, angel.”
“You wanna cum in my mouth?” He nods, transfixed by your flushed skin and spit-slick lips. “Say please, Daddy.”
He moans, long and low, as you take him back in your mouth, swallowing around him. “C’mon, princess, I wanna cum in that pretty mouth of yours. Fuck, I need it.” He fucks your throat wildly, heat firing through your body, sensation cascading over you. “Please?” The word sounds delicious falling from his lips, sliding sweetly across your brain as you moan around him. With a final groan, he spills in your mouth, a cry of your name tearing from his throat. His cock pulses in your throat, the salt of him filling your mouth as you swallow obediently. “That’s it, take it all. Such a good little cumdump for me, princess.”
You pull off him, sitting back on your heels with a grin. “Did I do good?” you ask, pouting down at him.
You’re only teasing, but when Matty meets your gaze, chest heaving and eyes lidded, and murmurs, “So good, princess.” A gush of heat floods between your sticking thighs. “Where’d my good girl learn to suck cock like that?”
Falling back onto his chest, you give him a wicked smirk. “I told you already, Daddy.” You shift your hips, grinding your soaked cunt against his cock and whining at the soft buzz of pleasure that lights under your skin. “I’m not always a good girl.”
He groans, rolling his hips against yours. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, baby.”
You giggle, pressing a kiss to the tattoo in the centre of his chest. “The elderly and their weak hearts,” you scoff, hissing when he pinches the flesh of your ass.
“Oi. Be nice.” Rolling your eyes dramatically, you mime zipping your lips. His fingers wander between your legs, anticipation thrilling under your skin as he finds your clit, the rough pad of his finger scraping against your sensitive nerves. “So wet, princess. Does being my little cocksleeve turn you on, baby?”
“Mhmm,” you murmur. “Feel a bit gross right now, though. I wanna shower first.” Matty grins, a vision of you naked and dripping wet from the shower playing out so clearly on his face that you can practically see it reflected in his eyes.
You hop up on the bathroom counter as Matty runs the shower, rinsing your mouth out with mouthwash and leaning over the sink to spit it out. Matty does the same, then steps between your legs, and you cross them instinctively behind his back. He catches your lips, mint taste mingling in your breaths as you kiss open-mouthed, hot and messy. Distracted, you lose yourself in the kiss, forgetting why you’re in the bathroom at all until the air is thick and cloying with steam.
Matty breaks away from you and helps you to your feet, tugging his shirt up over your head and discarding it to the floor. He can’t resist a greedy handful of your tit, gazing down to where the flesh spills over his fingers. “Pretty girl,” he murmurs, walking you backwards until you’re stepping into the shower.
You pull him under the spray, curls sticking to his forehead as the water soaks him. His hands trail over your body, grasping at your wet flesh as you press yourself needily against him. His cock is hard against your belly, heat pooling in your core as he pulls you in for a wet kiss. Matty grips your thighs, your head spinning as his tongue sweeps your mouth. “Jump up for me, sweet girl,” he says against your lips. “I’ll catch you, don’t worry.” Something in your chest catches as he smiles earnestly down at you, and you force it down before it bubbles out of control and something incriminating slips from your lips.
Obediently, you jump up, your legs tangling around Matty’s waist as he crowds you against the shower tile, his nails biting at your thighs where he holds you in place. You moan against his mouth as you grind your hips down against his stomach, a soft buzz of pleasure growing where your skin meets his. “Daddy, please. Want your cock,” you whine, steam curling around your bodies as you grasp weakly at his wet skin.
He laughs softly against your lips, angling your hips carefully as he lines up his cock. Torturously slow, he lowers you down, pleasure rolling hot under your skin from the point where his hips meet yours. Your cunt throbs, stretched wide around him as Matty moans against your neck. “God, this fucking cunt drives me crazy. Made for this,” he groans as he bottoms out, hips flush under the warm spray of the shower.
“C’mon,” you whimper, clenching your cunt around him and rolling your hips. “Fuck me. I need it,” you beg, scraping your nails down his back.
His cock twitches inside you, the barest flicker of sensation sending a pulse of heat thrumming under your skin. “Needy girl,” he says, clicking his tongue condescendingly. 
“Please, Daddy,” you moan, writhing in his arms, the plea on your lips breaking into a whine as he pushes into you agonisingly slow. Your head thuds back against the tile as your eyes slip closed, hot pleasure coiling between your legs as you clench your cunt around him.
Matty groans as he bottoms out, your legs locked around his waist as you pant into his mouth. “God, takin’ me so well, princess. Look so beautiful while I’m fucking you like this, fuck,” he praises, his words sending heat rushing to your cheeks. His head falls to suck and bite at the flesh of your tits, pain blooming into bliss under your skin as he fucks into you slowly.
You moan desperately, scrambling for purchase against his wet skin. “More, harder, please,” you whimper, rocking your hips as arousal pools in your cunt and drips out over him. He laughs darkly, and you shudder slightly, wondering what you’ve let yourself in for.
“Harder, huh?” he murmurs into your neck. “Whatever you want, princess.” It’s the only warning you get before he lifts you and slams you down on his cock, your hips meeting hard as he strikes deep inside you. He fucks you wildly, the slick heat of his body pinning you to the wall as he mouths at your neck, his breath hot on your skin. Incoherent moans fall from your lips, your head hazy and distant, pleasure welling hot under your skin.
His lips come up to cover yours, swallowing your wanton moans greedily, the faint taste of mint on his tongue as he licks into your mouth. “God, such a good girl,” he murmurs. “Wish you could see yourself, baby. Such a pretty little cocksleeve for me.” Arousal drips between your legs, mingling with the water soaking you, your cunt throbbing at his words. “You like that, princess?” he asks with a soft laugh, subtle derision cascading down your spine. “Little slut. Wanna be Daddy’s pretty toy, yeah?”
You whine, nails digging into his shoulders. His rhythm doesn’t slow, your grip on sanity slackening with every pulse of heat in your cunt. “‘M yours, Daddy,” you manage to get out around broken moans.
“That’s right, princess.” He’s practically dragging you up and down on him, using you like you really are a toy. “Gonna be a good girl and cum for Daddy, hm?” Your legs tighten around Matty’s waist as one of his hands leaves your hip to play with your clit. The rough scrape of his calloused finger over your sensitive bundle of nerves is too much, and it barely takes another minute before your world shatters.
Your scream echoes off the tile, cunt pulsing as your blood burns with ecstasy. Heat floods every nerve in your body, bone-deep pleasure swelling under your skin, incessant gasps and whines falling from your lips. Matty’s brutal pace never slows, chasing his own pleasure, silencing your whines with his mouth as you squirm against the overstimulation. “‘M almost there, baby. Just a little more, takin’ it so well, princess,” he assures you, rhythm sloppy and faltering as he gets closer. Your name spills from his lips in a groan as he pulses inside you, ropes of cum dripping sticky down your insides. 
“Fuck,” you murmur, whining as he pulls out and gingerly setting a leg on the floor, testing whether they can hold your weight. Matty’s hands hover at your waist, ready to catch you if you slip, and you stretch up to press a grateful kiss to his lips.
Matty pulls you fully under the shower, reaching for a bottle of shower gel and soaping his hands. “Feeling good?” he says, cocky smirk playing on his lips.
“Mhmm,” you sigh happily, settling against his chest as he runs his hands slow and tender over your body. In your blissed-out state, you barely notice your next words as they slip from your lips. “Wish it could be like this all the time.”
Matty croons softly, brushing a thumb over your nipple and kneading at your tit. “Wanna be my sweet girl forever, hm? I’d love that, princess,” he murmurs, the fantasy rooting in your mind despite how obscenely ridiculous the idea is — you’ve barely known him a week, for Christ’s sake. Something about him makes you feel safe, though, secure. Like you’ve known him for years — although, maybe not, given the circumstances. A moan slips from your lips when Matty digs his thumbs into your back, working the tension free from under your skin as your eyes slip happily closed. He cleans your cunt gently, smirking at the cum stringing between his fingers and swirling down the drain. “Can I wash your hair?” he offers with a soft smile.
Your chest feels distended, bloated with an affection you know you shouldn’t be feeling as you nod, the scent of his shampoo maddeningly comforting, sickeningly familiar. Matty’s skilled fingers work over your scalp, a quiet kind of bliss rolling over you as you relax into his touch. Stepping out of the shower, your hair scrunched up in an old t-shirt of his that he swore he didn’t care about getting ruined, you can’t hold back a pout when he wraps a towel around his waist. “Hey, no, what do you think you’re doing?” you gasp, suddenly distracted as Matty starts to bring a towel up to his hair. Puzzled, he stares at you blankly as you snatch it from his grip. “Gonna ruin those pretty curls if you keep doing that,” you tut. “Here, sit down. Let me spoil you for a second, okay?” You’ve never felt so cared for by one of your hookups, even by some of your boyfriends, so you seize a chance to return the favour. 
Obligingly, he sits on the closed toilet seat, letting you advance on him with a tub of obscenely expensive hair gel. He smiles softly, leaning involuntarily into your touch as you twist his curls around your fingers, defining them neatly and admiring the way they bounce back on themselves. You straddle his lap to scrunch the gel into his hair, batting his hand away when he tries to grab your tit. “Behave,” you chide, laughing and stepping away to take in your handiwork. With his hair loose and framing his face sweetly, he looks younger, more innocent, a far cry from the man calling you a pretty little cocksleeve not even half an hour ago.
“What are you thinkin’ about, darling?” Matty murmurs, searching gaze heavy on your bare skin.
You blink, shaking your head as if to clear it. “Just about how I could really go for that breakfast in bed right now,” you grin, teasing to alleviate the intensity in the air between you.
He huffs a laugh. “Think it might be closer to lunch by now,” he smirks. “How about I do you one better? Let me take you out for lunch, yeah?”
Your jaw hangs open in shock. Of all the ways you were expecting this to end, this wasn’t it. “Like… like a date?” A date means something, means being seen together in public, means being more than just a dirty little secret.
“Yeah, princess. Like a date.” He smiles fondly. “Here, I’ll call you a car. You go home, get changed, and I’ll pick you up in an hour, okay?” Instinctively, you nod, his tone leaving no room for argument even if you’d wanted to. You open your mouth to ask how he knows where you live, the answer coming to you with sudden, shocking clarity. Right. Because he’s your father’s boss.
Well, fuck. That certainly complicates things.
…But it’s not like complicated has ever stopped you before.
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hrryshoney · 2 months
Text
no. 1 party anthem
matty healy x photographer!reader
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A/N: lowkey projecting bc im a photographer/videographer❤️ this is set during like self-titled. if u could tell. named this after the AM song bc i think it fits (the bridge of this song is so them coded) this is unnecessarily long (6.1k words) but anyway Enjoy
warnings: smut 18+. um fingering, p in v unprotected sex, oral (m and f receiving), masturbation a bit? (male), degradation, praise, use of a camera during sex, Sir kink, exhibitionism (kinda), sex on a couch, light choking/slapping (blink and miss it!), probs more kinda filthy etc..
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Today was shit. Complete and utter shit. Your alarm didn’t go off, you spilled coffee all over yourself, had to go home to change, and you were going to be late to your first clients appointment. It’s only 8:30, and you could already tell it was going to be a bad day.
Your first client was booked at 7:45. You only had four appointments today. Normally, you’d be a bit more booked out. But, your last clients would take up more time than usual. An up-and-coming band you heard, that were quite popular already. Their management had informed them about your local studio, and an appointment was made.
Upon walking into your studio promptly at 8:00, you saw that your best friend was stalling for you. She had your first client engulfed in mindless conversation. God love her, Lexi knew how to keep a crowd entertained. Really, showing up 15 minutes late wasn’t a good look. You were glad she was here to null some of the damage.
As you walked up to them, you caught the tail end of her gossiping, no doubt. You placed your hand on Lexi’s shoulder, startling her out of conversation. “Oh! Let me get out of your way. I was just telling Christian how my last shift at the diner was absolute madness. As always, though. He’s all checked in. Have fun, hope the shoot goes well!” You shot her an appreciative smile, then an apologetic one to Christian.
Stepping out of the lobby and leading him to the studio, you were face to face with him. “I am so, so sorry I kept you waiting. This morning was one from hell, for sure.”
“It’s alright, don’t worry. Shit happens.” He smiled back at you, following you into the room.
You were grateful for his understanding, hoping it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience. You prided yourself on being punctual and professional. Thankfully, the studio was already set up for his shoot
You took the lens cap off your camera and began to set up your tripod for some head shots. Flipping the camera switch to ON, you then turned to Christian.
“Let’s get started.”
Your next 2 appointments went on without a hitch. They were both fairly basic shoots, nothing too heavy. Your 2nd client was even a regular. She was so lovely. Today she came in to get maternity photos with her husband. Considering how long she’s been coming to your studio, you were ecstatic for her.
You were still a bit out of it and tired though, the effects of your morning not completely worn off yet. You had an hour and 45 minutes before your last clients for the day came in. The band that you’ve been anticipating.
It was 11:34 now, so you were taking this as an opportunity for your lunch break. You decided to go to the sandwich shop that was about a block down from your studio. Walking out of the darkroom in your facility, (some guests preferred genuine photographic film) you spotted Lexi. Still behind the front desk, but now on a stool, slouched and looking at her phone. Mindlessly scrolling, she was kicking her feet back and forth as they dangled from her place in her seat.
“Hungry?” You came up beside her, tapping her thigh twice. Lexi was pulled out of whatever she was watching on her phone, looking up at you. “Mhm, starving. Lunch?”
“On me,” You confirmed, “thought we could get it in before our last clients. They’re gonna take a while, but I’m looking forward to it.” You said honestly, looking out the studio’s glass windows to the street. “Have we ever shot a band?” You use the term ‘we’ loosely. When you and your best friend both got a start, you always knew that you were going to be more hands-on. She didn’t necessarily share the passion for photography, but when she had no shifts picked up for her service job at the local diner, she would pay you a visit. She stuck beside you, and you’re thankful for it.
Lexi does most of the behind the scenes work for you when she’s there, and it would honestly be 10x harder without her. “Don’t think so. I would have remembered that. Every guy in a band is, like, insanely hot.” She hopped off her stool, beat white converse hitting the ground.
“Good to know where your priorities are. Hopefully they’re cooperative.” You wondered aloud, you knew they were young. That normally meant they would be rowdy, too. Four guys around your age was bad news in general, even worse that they’re musicians. “Hopefully they’re hot.” Lexi corrects, too caught up in picking at her nail beds to see your expression.
She had you laughing out loud. Wide eyes and an even wider grin on your face. “Right, extra incentive.” You picked up your keys to the front door that were lying on one of the shelves under the front desk. Checking your watch and walking to the door, you flipped the sign to CLOSED so you and Lex could grab a bite in peace.
You and Lexi wasted more time than you thought. You were out for at least an hour, having went shopping after eating. You both decided you could use a new outfit. Not for anything particular, but just to treat yourselves. Then, you traveled back to the studio.
30 minutes until your next client, you still had time to kill. You went to read the email from their management, again. You saw they specifically wanted a couch in their shoot. You should probably set up their studio now. You knew you had an old, black leather couch in the back somewhere. Finding it would be the hard part.
It wouldn’t be in any of your front studios, so you decided to check the last one first. Studio 13, it was more of a storage room now. When you first leased this place, you were pretty sure it used to be a one-level warehouse. You’re never booked to the point where you’re using all the studios, and you don’t have enough staffing anyway. Still, it cleans up nicely.
You end up shouting for Lex’s help dragging the big couch to your front studio. You had already set up a white tarp for your backdrop, knowing it was a pretty minimalistic shoot. As you lug the couch along the concrete floor, the feet of it scraping against it to make a rather brash noise, you began to think the soft, calming music that you queued to combat it wasn’t working very well.
You finally push the last bit of the couch into the studio, dragging it in front of the white tarp. Lexi raised her hand for a high five, which you gladly reciprocate. You look at her with a grin. “Not bad, huh? Little studio we got going.” You both laugh, staring at the quite bleak set.
“Best in town,” Lex returns dryly, she steps out and looks to the front windows. “Those your clients?” Before you even look, you answer. Albeit sarcastically, “And I’m supposed to know, how? I’ve never met these people before.” But the words died in your throat the moment you looked. They had to be your next clients. You didn’t think anyone could fit the bill for ‘band members’ more perfectly.
So, there they were. Smoking and loitering outside the studio. And Lexi was right, because she always had to be. They were hot. No sooner than you think it, the words are coming out her mouth. “Christ, they’re handsome.” All of them wearing some short of black getup, with tight jeans and t-shirts. One boy, with longer, blonde hair, had his sunglasses on with a snapback. She laughs through her sentence in disbelief, a hand coming to her mouth. You can’t help but follow suit.
“Right, well. Even if they are, he best not ash his cig in my flower pots.” You squinted your eyes, the cigarette resting between the boys middle and index figure. Trailing your gaze to his face, he had dark curly hair. A pale complexion with deep brown eyes, cheeks sunken in as he took a drag of his cigarette. The face that, after you finished staring, you saw was looking right at you with a half-smirk. You smiled back and looked to Lex, taking a step back into the front studio. “He saw me.”
“You weren’t exactly being subtle, but oh well. That’s the one you want?” She raises her eyebrows in a tease, a wide grin splitting across her lips. Your face and body heat, eyes widening. “Can you not? I need to be professional. This is the real deal, you know? They’ve got management and everything.” You didn’t wanna blow your shot, you knew this was the foot in the door to bigger things. Cute band members were not taking this one from you.
Your hands came subconsciously to brush at your outfit, looking down at yourself to see if you looked presentable. You could practically hear your best friend’s thoughts, and the smirk on her face. You ignored her.
The bell on your door rang with entrance, and you turned to see one of the guys walking in. He had shorter dirty blonde hair, and you could see one of the others stomping on his cigarette before following behind.
Putting on your customer service smile, you took a few steps back to make room for the 4 men in the lobby. You scooted closer to Lexi, suddenly feeling outnumbered. Four sets of eyes were now looking back at you. Two brunettes, one who had closer to black hair. Two blondes, one whose was longer and lighter.
“Nice to meet you,” You sighed out, their intimidating gazes piercing. “So, um, welcome to our studio.” You introduced the both of you, giving your name and Lexi’s. Gesturing between the two of you with a wave of your hand.
They went down the line doing the same. Ross, Matty, Adam, and George. In that order, introductions exchanged in their thick accents through giggles. The boy you had taken interest in you now knew as Matty, and he was only drawing you in more.
“Well, we can get started on your session early since… you’re here.” You looked to the group, waiting for some sort of approval. You got a couple head nods, and a smirk from Matty.
“That eager to get us in, babe?” He chuckled, knocking his shoulder into his friend’s playfully. You felt embarrassment flood through you, but you led them to the studio with your head up.
“Sure. So, Studio 13. I’ll get a lot of ‘full band’ shots, but your manager said he wanted some solo shots of the each of you, too. Think it’ll be easier to get the group ones now, though.” You told them, wringing your hands slightly.
There was a small murmur of agreement, and you turned around to get your camera ready. Checking your lens, SD card, battery. “Whatever you think, you’re the pro.” Your head shot up, seeing Ross smile reassuringly at you. You returned the gesture and got back to work.
As you walked around the room to flick your lights on, you saw Matty shooting his friend a look. You didn’t think too much of it, but your eyes couldn’t stop finding his face. You were gonna have fun photographing him solo. “Okay, everyone! Get together, pose, do whatever you want. I’ll take a bunch of shots.”
After a few pictures, you stopped. Lowering your camera. “Maybe.. We should get you in the middle.” You pointed at Matty, him freezing in his place at the end of the line. “I mean, you’re just…” You trailed off, hoping he’d get the point.
George spoke up, saving you from having to complete your sentence. “She’s saying you’re the shortest, mate. Get in the middle.” He snickered, hand raising to his mouth to hide his smile.
Matty’s smile dropped, shoving his friend’s shoulder. “Whatever,” he muttered, moving to his new spot. “Better?” He tried to hold back his laugh, but was failing over the sound of his friends chuckles in the background.
Once you got them started, you could see they really were naturals. You assumed their close bond caused them to work so well and naturally together. Joking around, but still getting good shots.
However, this perception faded when you had to go in for the solos. Of course, above anything, they were boys. And they were also making your job a living hell. No matter who you were photographing, the other three were trying to get a laugh. Anything to make their friend break.
Your last straw was when you tried to get a photo of Adam, and Matty all but fell into his lap. You laughed along, (because truly, it really was just a little bit funny), but forced yourself back into work mode.
“Okay, this isn’t working. How about for the solo shots the rest of you stand out in the hallway? And we get a little rotation.” You suggested, trying to make yourself sound as light hearted as possible. Though a wave of whines passed over the group, they ultimately agreed in the end.
Working with them one-on-one was really nice. The two guys you shot so far, Adam and George, were very intelligent and funny. Unnaturally respectful for men your age, and you really couldn’t complain.
You finished both of them up, their mini shoots taking about 15 minutes each. You went back in the hallway you collect another one of them.
Adam and George now stood to the side, leaving Matty and Ross to linger right outside the door. You opened the door, looking at both of them and keeping your palm on the door handle. “Who’s next?”
Ross’ eyes went to Matty’s, about to step backwards and let him go. Then, Matty’s arm shot out to land on Ross’ shoulder. It seemed he tried to give his friend a shove forward, but the most he got out of Ross was a stumble. “Ross will go next. Save the best for last and all that, right?”
You giggled at Matty’s antics, while the rest of his friends let out sighs and eye rolls. Ross mumbled something under his breath, a sarcastic ‘right, sure..’ was the most you caught. You then lead him into the studio, closing the door on your way.
Ross’ session took about 5 minutes more than the others. He was incessantly flirting, making it hard to do your job. And while there was no denying that he was very cute, you knew they were all harmless comments.
You were finding out quickly that the boys were good company. And the shots were all turning out more than great. They were all so naturally photogenic, and the camera loved them. You doubted you’d have to do much editing.
You walked out with Ross, on your way to finally bring Matty in. You two lightly chatted on your way out, Matty’s eyes landing on you the second the door opened. He looked at Ross and tilted his head, to which the taller boy only looked down at him and grinned.
You broke the awkward silence, clapping your hands together. “Right, well. Matty, last but not least and all that.” You step back and put your hands up, gesturing for him to step in before you.
Once you finally got him away from the rest of the band and you closed the door, his whole demeanor shifted. Matty turned around instantly to look at you, and you looked down to the floor. You could see his smile through your periphery.
“Okay, so. For the rest of the guys I got a few of them standing and a few of them sitting on the couch…” You trail off, looking around the room. At this point, you’re just desperately trying to avoid eye contact with him. Maybe saving him for last wasn’t the brightest idea.
“Okay,” Matty nods his head, eyes following yours and looking around the studio. “Should I.. get on the couch?” He says offhandedly, a hand coming to hide the smirk that’s blooming on his face.
You feel your face get hot, but you agree anyway. “Um, yeah. That’ll work.” You walk over to the studio light, dragging it in place from where you moved it when with Ross.
After getting the area set up, you turn back to Matty. He’s looking at you expectantly, waiting for direction. “You can just pose however you want. I’ll just take a bunch of shots and there’s bound to be some keepers.” You smile and turn your camera on, fiddling with the settings.
“Have to tell me if I’m doing good, then. Don’t know what I’m doing when I pose, to be honest.” He laughs, moving in his seat a bit. You scoff, still too preoccupied with your camera to realize you did it out loud. “What?” he asks intrigued, still smiling.
“Don’t think you could really look bad. I mean, you’re photogenic and good looking to begin with, so.” You press your lips together, the words flowing out of your mouth too freely. You turn around and walk to a cart that’s in the corner of the room, pretending to grab something from it.
“Yeah, sweetheart? Think I look good?” His smile grows unbelievably wider, not being able to hold back his teasing remarks. You roll your eyes, obviously not meaning the blatant compliment to come out. You come closer to him and he kicks his knee out so it brushes your thigh.
Trying to brush it off, you shrug your shoulders. “You caught me,” You said with the faintest smirk on your face. Taking photos of him flows naturally. He’s just too.. perfect. And though you don’t throw that word around, he really is. You already love the few shots you have of him.
You get down on your knees to take the next picture from a better angle, leaning back on your calves as you do. Matty’s eyes widen and immediately find yours. It doesn’t register in your head what he’s thinking, until you see him shift in his seat.
He doesn’t do it subtly, and you know he wants you to look. You’re no better, so easily giving into temptation. Your eyes drag to his hips, watching the way he lifts himself off the couch momentarily.
“Alright, babe?” He calls, drawing your attention back up to his face. Though, your gaze lingers on his mouth. He winks at you.
“Should I be asking you that instead?” You hide behind the camera, snapping more pictures. You remembered the promise you made to Lexi and yourself. Be professional.
He chuckled, bringing his hands to run them along his thighs. “Only if you’re gonna help me out.” His eyes search yours for an answer, and you can only guess that you look as desperate as you feel. You nod.
His hands run higher, rubbing over the tent in his jeans. “Gonna need your words, then.” He smirks, and you feel so out of control. But it feels nice.
“Yes, please. I’ll help you.” You get up from your spot on the floor, ready to move towards him. Matty’s hand presses on himself harder, and he groans.
“Ah,” He tsks, stopping you in your tracks. “Don’t get to touch me yet, we’re not done our photo shoot.” He smiles, which then gets interrupted with a moan. The only thing you’re focusing on is how he works himself with his hand.
“Please, Matty. Need you.” You’re already begging him, but you don’t dare move from your spot. Because you want to be good for him. You feel the pit in your stomach, and then the pool of arousal in your panties.
“C’mon, take a picture of me baby. Isn’t that your job?” Matty throws his head back, palming himself through his jeans even more. You feel your knees weaken, the camera suddenly heavier in your hand.
You bring the camera up to your face, looking through the view finder. Matty looks sinful. You clench your thighs together and his hips lift off the couch even more, a whimper falling past his lips. You take the photo.
“Knew you’d be so fucking eager. Could see ya eye fucking me since we got here.” Matty starts to unzip his pants, allowing his cock to be less constrained by the pressure. You don’t even think when your finger hits the button.
“Like you weren’t doing the same?” You shoot back, voice coming out breathier than intended. He lifted his hips up, pulling his jeans down past his thighs. He was left in his black Calvin Klein boxers. The imprint of his hard cock very much visible.
He strokes himself over his boxers, mouth parting slightly. “Watch that mouth, thought you were a good girl.” He groans out through gritted teeth. “Come here.”
You obey, of course. Walking straight to him, though your mouth gets the best of you. “Maybe you thought wrong.” You say with an innocent smile, the toes of your shoes hitting his. He grabs your wrist, bringing it to his dick. He moves your hand up and down, letting you feel all of him.
“Wanna be a brat for me, baby? Come on, take me out. I’ve got another use for that mouth.” You reach for his waistband, your camera still in your other hand. He notices the compromising position and takes it from you. You expect him to put it to the side, but he keeps it in his hand. “Get back on your knees.”
You lower yourself down, pulling Matty out fully. He’s pretty. His cock is long and thick, the tip slightly red with precum beading out from touching himself. “So big, Sir.” You look up at him through your lashes, pumping him twice. He whines out.
“Sir, huh?” He smirks, throat gravelly. You work your hands around his length more. Then, you hear it. The camera shutter. You look up, his eyes looking through the viewfinder.
“Can I suck you off?” You bat your eyelashes, waiting for permission. Matty’s hands falter, bringing the camera down slightly. He hums.
“Mhm, take your top off, sweetheart. Leave your bra and leggings.” You pull your hands off him, swiping your shirt over your head. You were wearing a blue bra with lace trim, and it pushed your tits together nicely. Thank you, Lord.
Matty started to pump his cock when your hand left, now working himself faster. “Open your mouth.” You submitted to him, quickly sticking your tongue out. You subconsciously pushed your breasts together with your elbows.
Matty slapped his dick on your tongue, loving the way your moans vibrated around him. He teased you, taking himself away to take another picture. “Please, please Sir.” You rock yourself on your heel, the desperation growing.
“Little slut,” He giggles, pressing his cock into your mouth. Groaning out when you close your lips around him. You could only take a little more than half of him in your mouth, swirling your tongue around his tip.
Your hands came up to work the rest of what didn’t fit. “Made for this, to take my cock.” You whined around him at that. Hollowing your cheeks and pulling off a bit. You say something around him that he can’t make out, and he bucks into your mouth.
Matty’s hand comes to rest on the back of your head, hand tangling in your hair. “Like that? Wanna be my fucktoy?” You nod around him, bringing one of your hands to rub yourself over your leggings. Matty guides your head down on him until you gag, letting you pull off and take a breath.
Tears welling in your eyes, you swallow your saliva and look back up at him. “I’m okay, please keep going. I like it.” You respond to the concerned look in his eyes, and he nods. Before you take him in your mouth again, you spit back on his cock.
“Fucking hell, shit.” Matty moans, throwing his head back on the frame of the couch. He pushes your head down again, making you take his whole cock in your mouth. You don’t gag this time, and he starts to move his hips.
He’s fucking your mouth, and you’ve never been more turned on in your life. You felt your knees starting to bruise, and you rubbed your cunt faster. The only thing separating you being two layers of fabric.
He pulled you off of him, then. Looking at you touching yourself. “Getting off on making me feel good? S’pathetic, baby.” He teased you, and you heard the camera go off yet again. “C’mon, up here. Gonna make you feel good.”
What a gentleman, you think. Not coming before you. The thought makes you giggle, but it’s interrupted by your own shriek when he pulls you onto the couch. He places you on his thigh, grinding you down against him. Your whines are constant and he’s not letting up. “Please, Matty. I want you.” You whimper.
Matty pulls his shirt over his head, throwing it to the side. You state shamelessly, taking in all of his tattoos. They make him even more attractive, and you know you’re only feeding his ego with your wide eyes and parted lips.
He flips your position, and now Matty’s on his knees before you. He pulls your leggings off briskly. Then, you’re only left in a bra and panties. He presses over the wet spot on your panties, and you jolt. He hooks his finger in them, and pulls them to the side.
His fingers run through your wetness, and you’re practically glistening under the studio lights. He slips his middle finger inside of you, but it’s gone as soon as it came. You squirm, needing to feel any kind of friction. He pulls you closer to him by your thighs, spreading your legs wide.
He’s just staring for a few minutes, until you feel him blow a gust of cold air onto your exposed cunt. You scream out, hips bucking off the couch. Matty lightly slaps your inner thigh. “Sh, don’t want our friends to know what a whore you are, right? Giving it up so easy for a guy you just met.” You hear the smirk in his words, his accent becoming thicker and breathing more rapid.
Without warning, he licks a bold stripe up the center of your pussy. You put your hand in front of your mouth, muffling the moans. Matty sees this, however, and has a different idea. He says something without lifting up from you, the feeling of his mouth making your eyes roll back. Finally, he pulls off of you. “Camera.”
You whine, “Huh?” The camera is suddenly being placed in your hand, the weight making you shake more. “Only fair you get some pictures of me. Had your photoshoot, now it’s my turn.” And with that, his mouth is back on you.
Matty licks your clit, pursing his lips and sucking. Your legs start to shake, and he brings his hand around to insert his middle finger in your hole. Your whole body goes weak, the light grip you have on the camera not helping.
Matty continues eating you, and he’s messy with it. You feel your slick on your inner thighs. His tongue goes inside of you, slowly moving in circles. He pulls off again, watching you clench around nothing before shoving his face between your thighs.
Your moans are nonsensical, bucking your hips off the couch and squirming uncontrollably. Matty spits on your cunt, moving his hand to pinch at your clit. “Fuck! Oh my God, Matty. Don’t tease.”
“God or Me, which one?” He laughs, pressing a light kiss to your clit. “You haven’t taken any photos, Miss ‘pro’.” He brings up Ross’ words from earlier, the realization causing you to smile. The smile is wiped away, though, when he runs his two fingers through your slit and puts them inside of you.
Your mind clears, and you finally take a photo. You don’t even bother to check the shot anymore, just clicking the button mindlessly. Matty grins and curls his fingers inside you. His tongue laying flat against your clit.
He sucks on you again, scissoring his fingers slowly. “Mm, please, Sir. Gonna cum, please.” You beg, hoping he won’t take it away from you. That he’ll just allow you to let go. You take another picture, the top of his hair and bottom of your abdomen most likely the only things visual.
“C’mon, baby. Cum for me and I’ll give you what you really want. Fill you up with this cock.” He stutters in his words, and you realize his other hand went down to lightly stroke himself. More precum that he’s been using to lubricate himself.
You cum with a shout, that’s muffled by his lips on yours. Matty swallows your moans, sticking his tongue in your mouth instead. You can barely taste yourself on his tongue, and you ride his fingers through your orgasm. “Matty, Matty. Shit, thank you.” You pant, chest heaving.
“Good girl.” He pats the top of your head condescendingly, snickering. He stands back up to his full height. “Don’t thank me yet, ‘M just getting started with you.” His hand comes behind your back, unclipping your bra and letting it fall to your lap. “Lift your hips up, love.”
You do as he says, letting him pull your panties off. He throws both scraps of fabric somewhere on the grand. His hand immediately going towards your tits. He grabs a handful, and starts kissing down your neck.
“Sir, need you now. Can’t wait anymore.” Matty’s lips attach to your collarbone. He bites you, sucking on the spot. He licks over the red mark, moving to another spot on your neck to do the same.
“You’ll fuckin’ wait if I make you. Do anything to please me, right?” You nod, head rolling to rest on your shoulder. You finally feel satisfied when Matty takes his cock, resting it just above your pussy.
He lines himself up, but never goes where you need him. He keeps bumping your clit, every time making your body twitch. He holds your hip in place, the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance. The only coherent thing coming out of your mouth is please, mixes of Matty and Sir.
He puts his tip inside of you, feeling you clench and then quickly pulling out. You whine, trying to move down the couch and put him back in. “Beg for me if you want it so bad, baby.” Matty is hard, and you know he must be aching as bad as you are. His cock and angry red, you know he needs to give in soon.
“Please! Please, I need it. Need you so bad.” You’re not above begging, obviously. And Matty loved it. He groaned, your wet cunt coming in contact with his dick again.
“Need what? Gotta use your words like a big, or I won’t know.” He rubbed his cock down your slit, pressing on top of your clit. He moved his hips forward slightly, and you squeezed your eyes shut.
You threw your head back, “You! Your cock, Matty. Need it inside me.” You tried to close your legs, clenching around nothing and needing friction. Matty gripped your inner thighs, prying them apart and pressing them to either end of the couch.
He lined himself up with your dripping hole again, slipping inside of you slightly. “Gonna give it to you, ruin you.” With that, Matty thrusted inside of you. He started slow, half his cock inside of you. He was stretching you out so good, letting you adjust. “More,” You grit out, teeth clenching in your head.
“Was gonna give it to you gently.” He pressed more of himself inside of you, watching you shake your head. His hand came up to grip your jaw, making you look at him. “You don’t want it slow, right? Just wanna be fucked dumb.” Matty pushed the rest of his cock inside of you. Finally, you were taking him in full.
“Yes! Yes, Sir.” You feel so whole, so full. It makes you want to scream, and you bring your knuckle to your mouth and bite down. You see Matty reaching behind your head for something, and see him with the camera in hand.
He pulls halfway out of you, and the camera shutters yet again. “Look at the way you grip me, christ. Just milking my cock. He starts pounding into you again, hips slapping against yours.
Matty has a steady rhythm, it feels so fucking good for you. You keep clenching around him, and you’re close again from your other orgasm. “Faster, sir. Please.” You jut your lips out. “Wanna cum.” Matty laughs.
“Thought you wanted to be my toy, huh? Sit so pretty for me and take it? That’s dirty, you know, babe. Toys don’t get to cum.” He pouts at you in faux sympathy, eyes casting down towards you. The leather couch was making you sweat now, his gaze piercing through you.
“Please, Sir. Need it so bad, I’ll be so good. I’ll be quiet.” You whined, hips coming off the couch before Matty’s strong hand pushes you back down. Letting your head fall back, a gasp escapes your mouth again when his hand attaches to your clit.
“You’re greedy. Already came once and begging like a slut for it again.” He presses down on your clit, thrusting into you harder. He does go faster, speeding up his rhythm. Your stomach turns and you know you won’t be able to hold it.
Matty’s hand comes to rest lightly on your throat, pressing his thumb into one of the hickeys. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Let go.”
You do, with a shout so loud Matty doesn’t even bother covering it. He’s too focused on reaching his own release. He speeds up even more, riding you through your orgasm and making you overstimulated. “Fuck, fuck. Good girl. Where can I cum, baby?”
“My mouth.” You say with no hesitation, and he pulls out of you cunt. Matty moves up slightly, and pumps his cock above you. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, and the visual makes him cum. He throws his head back with a loud moan, letting his cock hit your bottom lip.
You swallow, holding his eye contact. He curses under his breath, picking the camera back up and taking a picture of you like that. Then, one with his thumb pulling on your bottom lip before he wipes the corner of your mouth with it.
You giggle. “You taste good.” You watch him step off the couch, searching for your clothes. He finds your underwear and bra, bringing it back over to you. When he realizes there’s nothing to clean you up with, he leans down and licks your cunt.
You shriek out. “Could say the same about how you taste.” He winks at you, handing you your clothes so you can get dressed. He goes to find his own and do the same. You hide your face in your hands.
“No way you’re shy, you just had my dick inside of you.” He rolls his eyes, throwing his shirt back on. Tone full of amusement and disbelief.
“Doesn’t mean you have to be vulgar.” You joke, strapping back into your leggings. The anxiety about Lexi and his band mates is hitting you now, but there’s no going back. “Thank you.”
He looks over, a wide grin on his face. Matty grabs your shoulders. “No, thank you. Best photoshoot of my career.” He walks over to the door, and you take long strides to catch up with him.
You smooth a hand over your hair and straighten out your clothes. It’s no use though, because when you open up the door and walk into the hall with Matty, they all know.
Lexi and the guys all stood there, knowing smiles on their faces. George even starts laughing when you both walk out. Adam’s head hung with his shoulders shaking, and Ross a smirk on his face.
“Think Matty got the all inclusive session, then?” George says, causing the rest of the group to burst out in laughter. You shrink in on yourself, looking over to see Matty’s grin. Lexi shoots you a look. A timid smile, but her eyes say ‘we’ll talk later.’
Matty giggles, humming. “Mhmm, don’t be jealous.” He shrugs looking between Lexi and you. “Contact us again for another shoot, then? We love your work, and would love to come back.” His eyes go to your face for the last bit, and you nod.
They all say their goodbyes, exchanging handshakes and stares. When they walk out, Matty catches your eye again through the window. Waving, and pulling out a cigarette.
Later, when you’re cleaning up the studio, you find a folded piece of paper under the front desk. A 10 digit phone number, a small heart and the words Matty scrawled under it.
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pov: you think about one of matty's secrets
just pure filth here. sorry lol.
warning: 18+, smut. grammatical errors, typos.
other bf matty blurbs & rambles here.
cumplay. to say that matty was obsessed with it was a complete and utter understatement. you always wondered how many people knew about this side of him, selfishly hoping this was a dirty secret shared just between the two of you. hell, he'd been your best friend for over 15 years and you didn't even suspect this was a deep interest of his until a few months of you sleeping together. your shy, nervous matty getting off at the thought of his cum? no way. but oh, how glad you were that this was a reality. you'd never grow tired of the way his lust filled eyes would spend minutes staring at it slowly dripping out of you, always asking if he was allowed to lick you clean. of course. you'd be a fool to deny him. you love to run your hands through his dark curls as he gently laps the warm cum off your spent cunt, using his fingers to spread you open so he can gather every last drop. at times he will finger it out of you and use the slick to rub gentle circles against your clit, leading to the best form of ecstasy imaginable. but your favourite is always when he will gather some of it on his tongue and continue to sloppily kiss you, ruining him into a moaning, desperate mess.
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lottiecrabie · 6 months
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don’t fuck the line cooks. part two – matty healy
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ever since that night in the walk-in, you can only think about the next time. hopefully if you push and prod him enough, you’ll get your way…
warnings: 18+, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, masturbation, public sex, drug use, sex under the influence, degradation, choking, overstimulation, dom/sub dynamics, authority kink, problematic age gap problematic age gaping, sleazy man is even sleazier in this somehow
part two of two
18,294 words
You lick the salt off the back of your hand, shooting the cheap tequila, immediately wincing from the taste and worsening it with a bite of tart lime. You shake your head, hoping to flick acid off your tongue. 
“God,” you say for good measure. “I can’t seem to get used to this.”
Beside you, Veronica laughs, eating the lime off the rind. She gives you a green smile, features uncrinkled. She is used to this. “It’ll come with age.” 
You roll your eyes. “You’re only four years older than me.”
“Yeah, but you were severely stunted for the twenty-one first years of your life, so the difference is staggering.” 
“Ar-ar. You’re hilarious.” 
“I know.” She flicks the lime rind on the counter, a disheveled green skin rid of meat. She licks the leftover salt off her lips— with some of her bright red lipstick, too. She grabs your wrist next, shimmying her shoulders as she reels you from the bar. “C’mon. Let’s dance.” 
“My feet hurt,” you pout in mock-protest, but your limbs are loose from the booze and you’re easily whisked away to the dancefloor. 
The Darling is the nearest bar from the restaurant with the cheapest alcohol. It’s a dirty thing, drenched in obscurity and the occasional neon sign, smelling like sweat and cigarettes, and sticky to walk on. It plays the same songs over and over again— every night for the past decade, the same playlist booms from the speakers. You know the tunes by heart now, screaming the lyrics without a single title coming to mind. 
The Darling is where everyone crashes after shift drinks, itching for a bigger buzz and a dance. Your coworkers crowd the place, talking to the bartenders like old friends, familiarly finding the labyrinthine way to the toilets. (Find the bar, take a turn to your right, follow a dark corridor, beside the kitchen to the left.)
You’re sore and tired from a double, a neck vein nearly popped when a customer dared ask for—no, insist on a steak half rare-half medium on each side uncut. Dread filled you when you approached the kitchen, putting on a dazzling smile to transmit the ridiculous request. Sighs, and swears, and that shake of head that makes his curls bounce filled the room as he got to work, frustrated and pissed, but obedient still. 
Him. You spin on your feet, finding Matty still at the bar, sipping on a dark drink with George. You smile, eyes twinkling, detaching yourself from your friend as you sway towards him. You practically fall on his side— his hand catches you at your waist, near your hip, decidedly inappropriate, but instinctive. 
“Hullo,” you say in a poor imitation of their accents. George snorts. “Watcha drinking?” You ask Matty, scrunching your nose. 
He arches an eyebrow, sliding the glass towards you. “Have a taste.” You grab it without hesitating, knocking a mouthful and immediately regretting it. You cough, shaking your head. That’s straight liquor. Matty laughs, soothingly rubbing a hand on your back. “You okay?” 
“What is wrong with you?”
“Aw, princess,” he coos, taking a sip of his whiskey and not even twitching as the bitter taste washes his mouth. “You’ll like it when you’re older.” 
Again, you roll your eyes. Taking an easy dig at your age when he’s been between your thighs some nothing-days ago is hypocritical. The retort burns your tongue, but you bite it back for present company. Matty looks at you a little gleefully, like he knows, like it amuses him. 
You turn to George with a smile. “What about you? Are you drinking something sane?” 
He snorts. “Just a rum and coke, sweets. I’m afraid it’s not very special.” 
You reach for his drink anyway and he offers it gladly, metal rings around the cool glass. You tip it, smiling at the sweetness, licking it off your lips. “George, you have much better taste.” 
“Hey!”
“I know.”
“Order me a drink, will you?” You say, fluttering your eyelashes at him. As though you would even need the extra persuasion; he’s already shouting a drink at a bartender, putting it on Matty’s tab with a point of a thumb. 
Matty rolls his eyes beside you, his fingers digging into your waist in warning. Something low simmers between your legs. You smirk to yourself. You like the feel of that. 
“There you go,” George says, passing you the orange drink that’s been slapped on the counter. “A sweet drink for a sweet girl.” 
You smile gratefully at him, tasting it. It’s fruity and light; your lips stretch up. “Thanks, George.” 
“‘Course.” 
Ross crashes in your group, swinging an arm over George’s shoulder, clearly smashed. “Mate, they fixed the PacMan machine.” 
“No way. Is my score still on it?”
“DICKH3AD bright and red!” With a laugh, the two of them whisk away to the arcade game, off somewhere to the left, tucked between two tables. 
You’re alone with Matty now. A thrill resonates within you— it’s silly. It’s not like he’s gonna bend you over this bar and take you right this moment, in front of anyone. It’s not like he’s done anything of the sort since the walk-in fridge. Still, you spin to face him, arching an eyebrow, practically inviting him to. 
He sees the meaning tacked onto your eyelashes, clear as day, yet he does nothing but grin to himself, taking a sip of his awful whiskey on rocks. 
You huff, opting for another strategy. “Are you upset I asked George to order me a drink?” You try instead, hoping to prod and poke until he snaps again— finally. 
Matty smirks. “I’d have picked something lighter. Little girl like you can’t handle her liquor yet.” He pouts, “She’s just started drinking.” Your fingers grip around the glass, something hot and shameful dripping inside of you. 
“Why? Have plans for me I can’t be drunk for?” 
Matty leans back on his stool, properly looking at you. His gaze licks up your naked legs, your short skirt, your white top. Your heart beats twice as fast. Subconsciously, you straighten, needing to be taller, older, more mature. To satisfy, to excel. 
“If I said yes, would you not drink it?” His eyes flick to the orange glass between your clenched hands. It’s barely sipped, condensation running on your fingers. He meets your gaze next. There’s a game of chess, and you can’t seem to figure out what he wants. How to win. 
You want to win. You need to win. You feel it throbbing between your legs, that desperate urge. 
You drop the glass on the counter. It clinks on the wood, then settles, pretty and discarded. His turn. 
Matty smiles, satisfied. He stands from his stool, and a surge of excitement shoots up your spine. You don’t need the alcohol when you have him anyway.
Matty leans in, then pats your shoulder. “The boys are waiting for me.” He sidesteps you, then gets lost into the crowd. You watch him go, mouth parted in offense and disbelief. 
What a fucking dickhead. You make a low noise of annoyance, taking your glass and slurping half of it down in rebellion. You march to one of the empty booths, rage twisting your guts. 
You just want him to fuck you. It’s been five days. What is he waiting for? 
You slide into the sticky bench, ruminating in your anger as you chew on the plastic blue straw of your cocktail. 
“Hey,” Landon, a server, nods at you as he pulls into the opposite side of the booth. You nod back. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I’m growing tired of The Darling’s playlist.” 
“Take two shots. It’ll be back.” 
“Sage advice.” He tips his chin towards your drink. “Are you taking revenge for turtles or has this straw personally wronged you?”
You sigh, letting go of the plastic, pushing the glass away from you. “It’s killed my family. Arson, you see? It was brutal.” 
“I would offer my condolences, but that would mean my boss is dead, and I’m not the biggest fan of his. Would a muted hooray be acceptable?” 
You huff, smirking at him. “Bold of you to tell the boss’ daughter.” 
“Well, I’m quite drunk.” 
You smile. “I’ll cheer to that.” You knock your empty glass to his beer mug. 
Landon gasps. “In the eyes,” he chastises. “Or it’s seven years of bad sex.” You laugh, opening your eyes comically wide to cheer him next. You’ve just broken the curse. You’re not about to be pulled back into mediocre hookups now. “Better,” he nods, finally taking a sip of his beer.
You haven’t talked to Landon much before, nothing other than pleasantries and the quick quips exchanged between two tables. You quickly find that he’s funny, pulling snorting laughs out of your tipsy mouth as he recounts some of his worst customer stories like grand, epic tales. He offers sips of his beer graciously, then buys you your own when the supply is diminishing. You don’t even like beer, but you accept the gift nonetheless, letting the awful taste fizz in your mouth and slacken your head. 
A hand over your mouth, you half-hide your laugh as it bursts out of you. “I can’t believe you would say that!” 
“And I got fired for it,” Landon argues, screaming a defense. 
“Well, obviously—”
“What’s the funny story?” Both of you jump in surprise at the intruder. Turning towards the voice, you find Matty sliding in the booth next to you. 
Already, he takes his place like he owns it, spreading through the leather seats. His legs part comfortably, his thigh sticks to yours, his arm hangs over the back of the booth, tickling your nape. He wraps a hand around your beer, pulling it towards him, taking a sip shamelessly. He sits like he owns you. 
You roll your eyes, taking back your mug, though you hold it between your hands and don’t drink it. Silence reigns around the table. Neither you or Landon feel particularly inclined to talk. 
“C’mon,” Matty pokes, looking back and forth between the two of you. “I want to know the funny story.” 
“It’s just about this customer at my old job who was an asshole,” Landon laughs easily to his credit. “Bet you heard a thousand like it before.” 
“Yeah,” Matty nods, “I bet I did.” There’s something dark in his eyes, in the intensity of his gaze on Landon, like there is some hidden insult he’s supposed to catch. 
Matty’s eyes fall on you next, flicking to the beer and then back to your daggering glare, cocking his head condescendingly. “I didn’t know you liked beer.” He says it like some genuine question, but you know he knows the answer. 
“It’s okay,” you say tightly. 
“Mmh, yeah,” Matty smirks. “I’m sure Landon could give you a lot of okay things.” Your smile crisps on your face. The fucking asshole. 
“Landon,” you practically shout, turning towards him in a desperate attempt to ignore Matty. “I heard you were applying for the position of lead server?” 
Matty snorts. “Did your daddy tell you that?” 
You grit your teeth, “As a matter of fact, yes.” You smile at Landon. “He wanted my opinion. I’ll tell him I think you’d be great.” 
“Thanks,” he smiles at you genuinely. “I promise I won’t call anyone a raging hormonal grade A wanker.” 
You laugh. “Oh, please do if I ever need it.” You shake your head, twisting the beer in your hands, but still avoiding the aftertaste that would linger in your mouth. “Yesterday, I had a woman who—”
Matty’s hand rests on your naked thigh, cold from the glass and a smoke outside, rough in sinfully familiar ways, spreading over your leg like this, too, he owns. You stifle a gasp. The words die in your mouth. 
“Who what?” Matty encourages you, frowning at you like he’s not perfectly aware of what he’s doing under the table. 
As though he’s trying to entirely rob the words out of your mouth, he trails his fingertips up and down your thigh, raising goosebumps on the skin. You throw him a glance with some furious demand to quit it, but there’s a deeper need for him to do just the opposite. 
You rake your throat, flipping back to Landon. “She came in already pissed and prissy, telling me she’s never gotten a good experience here. Why she bothers to come back is completely beyond me. I mean, you would think she would give up then, because—”
Matty’s hand dips to your inner thighs and your lips hang open, mind shortcircuiting. Without even thinking, you spread them for him, giving him further space. He smirks at that, at the resounding blush on your cheeks as you realize what you’ve done. 
He presses into the meat of your leg, one finger at a time, so you’re so aware of him you might get dizzy. His pinky slips under the hem of your skirt, inching close to inappropriate. 
“Um, anyway,” you laugh awkwardly, desperate to get through this story. Your face heats up, the knowledge of Matty’s teasing under the table — in front of Landon — burning at your mind. Matty chuckles beside you. You rake your throat. “I try to do my best, you know— smile so fucking wide I could rip my cheeks— but she’s just asking me stupid question after stupid question like this is an interrogatory or something.”
Your eyes flicker between Landon and Matty, moving from amused eyes to a condescending nod, urging you on as a warm hand slips further and further up your thigh. Pleasure wakes up in your belly— just a little, just the idea of what it could be. God, you need him, and the worst is that he knows, staring at you so fucking cocky and proud. 
You stutter, “And— And she speaks to me like I’m the dumb one in this interaction! I mean, she’s asking me the size of our salad leaves because if they’re too big then I’ll have to cut them and yet—”
Matty’s finger meets the apex of your thighs. You jump, hips rolling into his hand, hand flying to your mouth to cover a moan you just barely avoid letting out. You need this story over. 
Matty seems to predict your plan to wrap it up, wasting no time to linger and tease and brush, instead rubbing his fingers up and down, pressing into your soaked underwear. You clamp around his hand, biting your lip. 
“So she pulled me every which way during my whole shift and—” He finds your clit easily, pressing on it through the cloth, making lazy circles that have your legs shaking under the table nonetheless. Pleasure rushes up them, burning with memory and apprehension. 
Your voice trembles as you continue, “—and I had to scream in the fridge so I wouldn’t lunge at her from the table—” You make the mistake of looking Matty’s way and he grins at you knowingly, the crow’s feet by his eyes denting as he licks mischief off his lips. His fingers push your underwear aside. 
You grip his wrist under the table, but he gathers a pool of your arousal still, as though to point out how much this little game is actually affecting you, no matter your useless protests. Your breath hitches. He pinches your bud meanly. Your head spins and spins deliriously. 
You focus on Landon, rushing out. “And then she tipped me 2%.” You grin at him cartoonishly big and fake, practically screaming, “Your turn!” 
“I think I remember that,” Matty cuts in before Landon can say anything. He teases your entrance and a jolt of ecstasy zaps through you. He smirks, “You screaming in the walk-in.” You glare at him, remembering being so wet and tired in the fridge you thought you might liquify and melt on the floor, holding onto his back for dear life as he thrusted inside of you, over and over, finding that perfect spot that had you screaming. 
You’re red and hot and fuck it. You stand up, his hand falling out of your skirt. “Actually, I need a smoke.”
Matty stands up beside you. “I have a pack.” You’re off before Landon can add anything, lost to the swallowing crowd of drunk service workers. 
You make a beeline for the bar. Matty catches up to you easily, knocking against your side, clearly so fucking pleased with himself. If you weren’t so turned on you think you could actually catch fire, you might tell him to fuck off. 
You turn to the right into a dark corridor. “He wasn’t flirting with me,” you say through gritted teeth because you would like to at least establish that. 
Matty snorts. “Don’t be naive. He fucking wanted you.” 
“It’s not because I have a conversation with a guy that we’re automatically about to get it on.” 
He scoffs. “I know guys, and I know that guy would have gotten it on with you right there on the fucking table if you had asked.” You roll your eyes, which only seems to piss him off. “And what were you doing giggling at him?” 
“Am I not allowed to laugh?” 
“Landon isn’t that fucking funny. The guy barely has enough wit to sustain a conversation.” 
“You don’t even know him,” you protest with a disbelieved laugh. Kitchen. To the left. 
“I’ve worked with the bloke for three years. If he’s told a joke in that time, I’ve yet to be around to hear it.” 
You push the bathroom door, giving him a prissy look behind your shoulder. “Well, you’re missing out. Maybe you should talk to people other than waitresses half your age—” The bathroom door slams behind the both of you. Matty grabs both your cheeks and crashes his mouth against your lips. He shuts you up with a heated tongue and sure, callused fingers on your skin, and it works. 
You part your mouth instinctively, kissing him back with fervor and unbridled need. Adrenaline shoots up your spine, alongside childish glee, the thrilled knowledge that this is finally happening. The argument is a faraway concept you don’t care about. 
Your hands dig into his back, clutching on the flimsy material of his washed-out white shirt, wishing to rip it off of him. He groans into your mouth, tilting his head and kissing you harder. 
Matty pushes you against the door, fixing you in place with a hand on your hip and another palming roughly at your breast. You moan in his mouth, lick into his with devotion. Your fingers hide in the mess of his curls, tugging. Hoping it makes him a little crazy— the instinct to poke and prod and tug for something still boiling inside of you. 
And it works. His fingertips dig into your hip, pressing meanly into the bone, and he shivers. He kisses you with abandon, stealing each breath from your mouth until you’re drunk on the lack of oxygen and him. He tastes like whiskey and cigarettes, and you kiss and kiss and kiss until your mind swirls lazily in your skull. 
He bites your lip, tugging it and releasing it with a smirk. You whine, so fucking wet it drips down your thighs, titling your hips in hope of finding some friction. You tremble between his arms and you know, desperately, deliciously, annoyingly, that he has you right where he wants. 
“Please,” you whisper in the dark of the bathroom, already pleading your case like you know you’ll have to. Matty licks his lips, digging under the risen hem of your skirt. “Please, please, please, Matty,” you rush immediately again, rolling your hips against nothing. 
“What do you want?” 
“You.” You take his wrist, puppeteering his hand up and up until it finds the wet patch of your underwear. You bite your lip, a gasp seconds away from spilling. “Your fingers.”
“Mine, huh?” He says, and indulgently slips your underwear aside. This time, nothing stops the resulting breathy moan. “Those fingers?” He brushes up your entrance, finding your clit and rubbing gently at it. 
You roll your eyes, letting your last hand fall to his shoulder and clutching it for support. “Yes.” As though satisfied with your answer, he rewards you with speed, circling and swiping at you until your face breaks open with a silent moan. Pleasure blooms in your belly. Finally. Every aching muscle in you sings in unabashed thrill. “Fuck, Matty.” 
He dips into your neck, kissing and licking at the delicate curve, climbing up your jaw. He’s unrelenting between your thighs and you simply grip his wrist, letting yourself be washed with euphoria. Those calluses might kill you one day.
“You’re so fucking desperate for me,” he says, and though the words are harsh, the tone is reverent. He looks down at you, at your body bending and parting just for him, at your pleading stare, at your red, panting mouth. Devours the sight. “Got you so fucking ready just from touching you under the table. Did you like it, princess? Liked being bad? Liked getting fingered in front of your little buddy?” 
You nod furiously. Pleasure loosens your head enough to lose the inherent need to be a rule-abiding, prim, moral girl. Yes to taboo, yes to indency, yes to anything if it’s him. 
“Bet he’d be so upset if he saw you now. Should we go get him? Give him a show?” Faintly, you shake your head, embarrassment and ecstasy spinning your mind. You moan into his neck, desperate. Your hips grind against his hand for more. 
He presses into your clit, making your eyes roll with a gasp. “He’d love to see you like this. Fucked out when I’ve barely even touched you. Making the prettiest sounds ever. God, I could fucking hear them all day. All desperate and whiney, like you can’t get enough of me.” He rubs at you twice as fast just to hear you whimper, muffled by a bite of his shoulder. His name drowns in the fibers, shirt wet by a slack mouth. 
“I can’t,” you admit, shaking in his arms.  
“Fucked the old, dirty man at work and now you can’t fucking live without his cock, right? What would they all think if they saw you, cockdrunk and fucking begging for it?” 
“Yes! Just— Fuck, just do something, sir.” 
“So fucking wet for me,” he coos, all proud and pleased. You grin, letting go of his shoulder to press kisses up his neck. He shudders. “We should show them, right? At least let them hear it.” Two of his fingers dip to your entrance and enter, slowly, letting the pornographic, squelching sound resonate through the quiet room. “There you go.”  
You’re too blissed out to care how it sounds, too busy getting used to the delicious stretch of his digits to fully notice how each thrust makes sopping, wet noises. You shiver, gripping his shoulder, biting wherever you can get your teeth into. Matty groans in your ear and you grin, happy. 
“No one can fuck you like this,” Matty whispers, and indulgently speeds up his movement, curling into you as a reminder. 
Euphoria coils in your belly, familiarly burning and tightening the strings of your body. You shake your head. “No one,” you agree, religious. 
“No one can get you off.”
Again, you grip his shoulders, promising, “No one.” And it’s true. Even your own hand has been a poor replacement to the art he can draw on your skin, making your body sing like his favorite instrument. His thumb rolls at you in tandem, a fast, harsh tempo. “Fucking hell,” you cry and scrunch your face. 
He smirks, whispering, “No one can see you like this.”
“No one, Matty. Only you.”
Matty kisses your cheek, a serpent smile on his lips. He coos in the shell of your ear, “Then why were you flirting with him?” He doesn’t want you to mistake his sweet tone: he pulls out of you. 
Your eyes flash open, fear gripping your guts. Your cunt already misses him, throbbing around nothing. The taste of pleasure lingers on your teeth, just out of reach. 
“I wasn’t,” you try to plead, but Matty’s already stepping away from you. Your arms fall to your side. Matty nods, but it doesn’t reassure anything in you, now hyperaware of the dangerous gleam in his eyes. “I swear, Matty. I didn’t— He just made me laugh.” You shake your head, chuckling, “Who fucking cares about Landon Williams?” 
Your hand reaches out, grabbing his and drawing it back under your raised skirt. You brush it against your soaked underwear, biting your lip as it makes contact. You whisper, “He doesn’t do this to me.”
Matty is unimpressed. “Of fucking course not.” He bites, pulling away. You pout, displeased, too empty to think. He crosses his arms before you get any other ideas. “Did you finish that drink, princess?” Your cheeks heat up and you look down, caught. He snorts meanly. “Say it.” 
“Yes, but—” 
He cuts you off, furrowing his eyebrows in a comical pout, as though speaking to a little child. “Where did my good little girl go? So fucking eager to please. Brought up with manners and all, right?” 
He takes a step, tilting your chin up with a strong thumb. You part your lips, readied and offered, pleading. “You taste like beer,” he whispers, and then offers a solution: two wet fingers, just out of reach. The message clicks. You don’t hesitate.
You get on your tiptoes, sticking your neck out to catch the digits and suck them between your lips. You roll your tongue around them, moaning with a full mouth, letting the tangy taste of you linger. You release him with a pop, grinning up at him proudly.
You keep it wide open, waiting, and he smirks at you. Knowing exactly what you’re asking for, he bends and spits in your mouth. Sick pleasure fills your mind and you moan, swallowing it, barely catching your breath that he’s muttering, “You’re so fucking dirty,” and falling on your lips. 
You kiss him back eagerly, trying to keep up with his angry, furious pace. You’re wound up so tight you might burst from any touch: just a brush, just a flick, just a thrust and you’d be screaming his name, falling apart on his callused hand. 
“Matty,” you beg between two kisses. You throb around nothing. 
“Taste much better, sweetheart,” he breathes.
He presses a kiss on your lips, then pulls away from you again. You’re whining before he’s even had time to unwrap you from his arms, release your tits from his palms. You frown at him. You’ve done everything he asked. 
“Let this be a lesson, princess.”
“Are you fucking serious?” You cross your arms, fuming. He’s really gonna leave now? Matty seems a bit too happy at your reaction, watching you like his favorite entertainment. 
He smiles, stroking your hair. “How else are you supposed to learn?” He pouts. “If I can’t have my good girl, I’ll make her.” He brushes the saliva and gloss off your lower lip, then opens the bathroom door. 
It falls close with a slam. You stare at the graffitied, dirty mirror and think you might murder someone.
Matty is sizzling some meat, twisting salt and pepper above it. The kitchen staff runs around him— they’re late, falling behind because of a missing aioli sauce. 
You wait for your plate and dagger him with a glare. You’re still sticky and unsatisfied from yesterday; you spent until the early hours of the day rubbing between your thighs, desperately trying to satisfy some itch. 
Matty’s eyes rise up as though feeling the handmark of your stare on him. They lock with yours, take in your displeased, furious look, and he smirks. Winks at you. You grab the hot plate sliding across from you with a huff. 
Walking away with a balancing tray, you secretly wish for him to tug you into the nearest bathroom until the whole restaurant knows his name. He doesn’t, of course, and you find your hungry guests with the fakest, biggest smile of all. 
The restaurant is eerily calm before the dinner rush, a few seated tables scattered across sections: rushed parents and elderly folks slurping soup. You have just enough of a break to chug the bottle of water you keep at the host stand, pestering Adam as you finally have a minute to quench your thirst. 
Veronica finds you at the stand, leaning both elbows on the wood as she smiles sickly sweet at you. Your eyes narrow in apprehension. “I just got asked something interesting.” You arch an eyebrow. “Landon wants to know if you and Matty are a thing. Said Matty practically pissed all over you two days ago.” 
Your lips don’t even twitch. “Okay.” 
Veronica gives you an expectant look. “Well?” 
Beside you, Adam turns to his computer and decidedly chooses to ignore this. “I am not part of this conversation,” he declares. 
You roll your eyes. “We’re not a thing.”
Veronica laughs. “Oh, come on. No one here is blind. You guys eyefuck so much sometimes we feel like we’re intruding just by picking up a plate.” Admittedly, your cheeks heat up slightly at that. You didn’t think you were that obvious.
She sighs, giving you a serious look. “Just be careful. I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into. He’s not like the little goody-goody boyfriends you’ve had. He’ll eat you alive.”
You flutter your eyelashes, faux doe-eyed. “Promise?”
“Reservations, tables, tables. Mmh, chairs.”
You give her a look, entirely ignoring Adam’s interjection. “I’m young, Vee, but I’m not stupid. I’m telling you there’s nothing going on. We’re just having sex.” You click your tongue. “And even then, we’ve only done it, like, once. Once and a half at most.” 
“And a half?” Adam pipes up, then seems to remember who you’re talking about. He raises one hand, shaking his head, defeated. “I don’t even want to know.” He practically bends over the stand to see the computer, as though if he just got close enough to the screen, he could be sucked into its world. 
“I’m leaving for college in less than two months,” you continue. “I’m not trying to date him, or whatever other tragic ways you think he’s gonna break my heart.” You smirk, shrugging, “I just find the gray hair hot.” Veronica snorts at that. 
Still, there’s something relieved in her eyes. Maybe even proud. She smiles at you, then turns to Adam. “And what does Matty have to say about it?”
“No comments.” 
She gasps, facing you with an excited grin. “That means he’s talked about you!” You bite your lip. Could he have? What did he say? 
Veronica is already on it. She pokes Adam’s arm, forcing him to look up at her. “What has he said? C’mon.” She gives him a solemn look, holding her heart. “This is a safe space.”
“That it’s none of my business,” Adam deadpans. “And neither is it yours, brat.”
Before Veronica can add anything, a family of four enter the door, wiping off their sweaty, red foreheads. They laugh as they approach the stand, mentioning the weather. Adam practically jumps to greet them, begging them to follow him. 
“I’m sitting them in your section. That’ll give you something useful to do,” Adam hisses at Veronica, and she pokes her tongue out at him. 
She waits until he’s just out of earshot to trail, “Now that he’s gone…” She faces you with a smirk, rounding the stand and joining you. She gives you a teasing look, biting back a grin. “How was the sex?” You can’t stop the smile shining on your face. It breaks your cheeks. She gasps. “Oh, I knew it. Julia said he was the best sex of her life, too.” 
“She didn’t lie,” you admit, flushed. You cock your head. “You haven’t slept with him?” You’re almost surprised. For all her don’t fuck the line cooks warnings, you had assumed she must have been burned before. 
“Nah,” she shakes her head. She trails, teasing, “I was too busy with Ross.” 
“Hypocrite!”
“I never said anything about bartenders!” But before you can tease her more, Adam calls her name and Veronica’s off with a spin and four menus, blowing you a kiss.
It’s dark outside. The street lamps slope over cars, bathing the street in semi-obscurity. You cross your arms, some pretend at a shield. The crew has long left for The Darling while you finished up your closing duties. You wiped your forehead and found yourself too tired to handle another boozy, dancy night, to wake up the next day still a little drunk and off-kilter for a grueling Saturday shift. 
Something catches the corner of your eye. Your head turns, squinting to be sure you’re not mistaken. No, it really is Matty’s car parked in the alleyway. You’d recognize the dirty, beat-up thing anywhere for all the rides it has given you—not in the sense you would like. At least you can ask for one now, avoid the stressful walk home, clenched and quick, holding keys between your fingers. 
You dip into the dark alleyway, walking the cigarette butts-lined path. The car is smoky, a gray curtain to the outside world. You frown, knocking on the window of his backseat. Matty opens the door, bloodshot eyes staring at you, eyebrow arching. He holds a joint in one hand and the door’s handle in the other. The earthy smell attacks your nostrils; you scrunch your nose. 
“Don’t let the smoke out,” Matty chastises, sliding away to leave a spot beside him. 
Your brain throbs in your head. Flashes of grand preachy speeches given to friends as they passed bongs at parties come back to you. Embarrassingly, you flush and step into the car, closing the door behind you. 
Matty grins at you, pleased, taking a hit of his joint and blowing the smoke into the car. The air is heavy and thick, pressing against your skin. This is such a bad idea. 
“What are you still doing here?” You ask. He pointedly looks at the joint as though obvious. You roll your eyes. “You could do that at home.”
He shrugs, “Didn’t want to.”
“Are you gonna drive?” 
“Was planning to, yeah.” Your lips part for a scathing, moralizing reply, but he cuts you off, repeating in that same tone of yours, “Are you gonna give me a sermon?” 
You scowl. “Was planning to, yeah.” Matty chuckles. He knows you far too well already. 
“I’d leave if I were you, princess. This car’s becoming a hotbox.” 
You should, of course. Weed has carcinogens, and causes lung damages, and slows development, and wrecks the body’s natural nutrient reserve, and all the other priggish arguments you’ve known and repeated by heart. 
But Matty has a loose grin you find a little adorable. Gray-streaked hair flops as he leans his head on the backseat, lips drooping with the weight of the joint. The shape of them is addictive, a perfect O as he blows smoke out, just like he would on the inside of your thighs to get you to jump and squirm for him. 
Your breath is heavy. You feel stuck to the leather seats, skin gluing you in place to watch and rewatch the show he gives you. 
And, really, you’re a little curious about what weed is. Your friends have all indulged at some time or the other; your dormmate used to crack a window, light a candle, and infest the room with the earthy smell as if it would cover any of it up; even your mom would laugh and wave smoke away when you caught her off the clock with her coworkers back in LA. 
Matty laughs, languid and slack and, fuck, it’s such a pretty sound. “You don’t want to, do you?” He teases. Your cheeks heat up. “It’s okay, princess. Don’t even need to smoke it. Just breathe the air and save your pretty pink lungs. You can even do your little speech to me if it’ll make you feel better.” 
“Don’t condescend me,” you say, as though there’s not something sick in you that enjoys when he does it. Matty raises two arms in a show of innocence, cheeky as they fall down. He knows you like it, too. 
“My apologies, darling.” In complete contradiction, he spreads his knees and looks down at his lap, telling you, “Come sit on my knee.” And in complete contradiction to your warning, you do just what he asks. 
You don’t even think about it; you’re scooping yourself up and dropping on his knee, biting your lip as you settle over his tough jeans. His hand loosely holds your hip, looking at you pleased. 
Now that you’re on his lap, close enough to count his eyelashes, to lick the smoke off his lips, you feel yourself growing needy. The memory of a stolen orgasm in a dark bathroom comes back to you in hot flashes. You have to think about stilling your hips to stop you from grinding on his knee. 
“Are you serious about this?” He asks, arching an eyebrow. You’re not sure what he’s referring to, but the answer’s the same anyway;
“Yes.” 
He taps your hip. “Open your mouth, princess.” You’re flushing as you do so, imagining him spitting in it, slipping two fingers and making you slobber your sermon around them. Instead, he takes a hit of his joint and blows it into your mouth. You inhale as he’s taught you. “Good,” he grins. “You remember how.” 
“It’s not rocket science,” you bite, deadpan. 
“You’re right. Smart girl like you. This is nothing at all.” It hits true, strumming the right chords inside of you. You shift on his knee, holding back the shameful groan that threatens to spill out at the friction. It’s really not fair that he makes you sit here, close enough to kiss and rub and grind until you’re dripping on his lap, and not do it. 
Maybe you’re starting to feel something. Your body is light and slack, a pleasant buzz resonating through you. You feel relaxed, more than you have in years, always strung high, clenched and straight-backed. A giggle threatens out of you. 
Maybe it’s why you say, “I think you should fuck me.” Though, really, it’s all just an excuse for the fact that it’s all you’ve thought about for the past week, ever since that night in the walk-in fridge. You should do it again. Right now. Please. Over and over, like the beating drums of an earworm song. 
Matty smiles, indulgent. “Is that so?” You nod frantically. His fingers dig into your hip. He takes another hit, ever casual. “D’you think you deserve to?” 
“Yes.” 
“How so?”
“I—” You huff. Well, yes, maybe you haven’t really been anything but a brat recently, wearing low-cut tops and winking at other line cooks in hopes of riling him up. But it’s really his fault for getting you so fucking ready you’re begging for him, then walking off. You pout at him. “Please.”
“Ah-ah,” he says, tugging on your lip with his thumb, smearing your lipgloss. “None of that.” Being cute won’t seem to work this time. 
“I’ll earn it,” you say desperately. 
“How?”
Your mind scrambles. An idea sparks in your mind. You rise from his knee, then you get on yours in the cramped spot of the backseat. 
You look up at him, blinking innocently, hand traveling up his thigh. Matty takes the joint to his lips, but you can see from the way his chest rises and falls in quick succession that he’s worked up. Good. You fucking have him. 
You might be inexperienced, an unknower of pleasure, but if there’s one thing you can do, it’s a fucking blowjob. 
“Go on, then,” Matty says, choked. “Earn it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Your greedy hands finally find his waistband. You undo the button, fingers frantic as they work his jeans down enough to reveal his half-hard cock. You lick your lips, staring up at him while you wrap around his length. 
He hisses, bucking into your fist. His dark eyes are locked in yours, barely willing to move away from your face to take a good look at the little show your hand is giving him. It’s like he wants to see you, pupils wide and lips swollen, so fucking turned on and ready just to suck his cock. 
You slide up, swiping your hand up to his tip, collecting the precum and spreading it down. It’s a slow pace, meant to tease, to beguile him. Get him so ready for you he’s begging for once. 
You repeat the motion over and over, never in any kind of repeated rhythm for him to really get used to anything. His cock hardens in your hand until it’s standing proud and ready. Matty breathes heavily, letting a low sound out every time you brush his tip. You smirk every time, teasing your nails on his sensitive skin. 
“Stop teasing,” Matty warns. His hips fuck into your fist every time you slide down, silently begging for more. 
You cock your head, blinking up at him innocently. “Where are your manners?” 
“Careful,” he says with a dangerous tone. His eyes gleam. “You don’t want me to teach you another lesson.” 
You giggle. You dip your head down, kissing his tip. A moan spills out of him and you flash your teeth at him. You lower a little, pressing another kiss, then again, and again, until his whole cock is covered in tacky lipgloss. 
Your tongue sticks out to lick a stripe up his length, rounding his tip. Just when he’s ready to feel your warm mouth embrace him, you give him another sweet kiss. He curses under his breath. “You think you’re funny.” 
You lick mischief off your lips, staring up at him with a cheeky grin. “Say please.” 
His hand free of the joint rakes through your hair, grabbing a handful of it and tugging until you look up at him. Pleasure sparks from your head to your toes, reveling in the sensation. He sees right through you. 
He lets go of your hair, soothing the sting as he travels down your temple, your cheek, your chin, pushing a thumb between your lips and parting them. Thrill gathers in your belly. Your mouth hangs wide open, breathing harshly. “Do it or I will.” 
It’s his turn to be cocky, spotting how you shift on your knees at the graphic images he puts in your head. His hands in your hair, sure and strong as he fucks up into your— No. You want to show him what you can do, prove you’re not just some lost little girl. 
You laugh, sucking around his thumb then releasing it. Saliva coats it, and it dries on your cheek as he caresses it. “You’re no fun,” you tease, pouting. 
“Shouldn’t fuck a crass man if you wanted pleases and thank yous,” he retorts. “But then, you wouldn’t enjoy it, would you? Need to be railed dirty to get off, right?” 
Instead of answering— too proud to give him the yes he’s right to expect, you suck his tip into your mouth. He makes a low whine, patting your hair, swearing under his breath as you roll your tongue around him. “That’s a good girl,” he coos. “Take me in now.” 
There’s the instinct in you to do just the opposite, the born and bred need to be difficult, but you give in anyway, a bigger want to be extra good for him. You push him past your lips, lowering until he hits your throat. “Fuck,” he chokes. You smile around him, then bob your head. 
You set a steady pace, stroking what you can’t fit with your fist. The car fills with wet, gagging noise and those puffy breaths he takes. Your tongue sticks out, licking his length as it passes him, making him shiver under you. 
“Give me your hand,” he demands. You offer it without thinking, reaching up towards him palm-out. 
He takes your wrist and spits on your hand. Saliva drips on your palm as he lowers it back to his cock. He wraps your fingers around him, pumping himself once, then twice, then releasing you. You keep going to the same pace he set, cursing around his length, somehow more turned on now. 
Your hand works in tandem with your mouth. You leave his cock just long enough to spit on it yourself, spreading the saliva until he’s wet and messy, then bringing him back between your swollen lips. Precum and drool sticks to your chin, but you bob with a mission, uncaring of the sopping sounds that come out of your mouth. 
“Ah,” he groans. His head falls back on the seat, spreading his thighs as if to give you more space. You quicken your moves in response, trying to coax more pretty sounds of him. “Shit. Fucking hell,” he laughs. 
His eyes roll back, and he takes a hit of his dwindling joint. You stare at his lips as he does so, still as sickly fascinated by him smoking as you’ve always been. The car drenches in smoke, an added mix to the condensation dripping on the windows. 
Matty’s face pulls down to look at you, right as you swallow him up with an especially deep trust. He makes a whine, caresses your hair. Sees the way your eyes are dark and aroused for him, obsessed. “D’you want another hit?” He asks, cheeky. 
You release his cock, out of breath. “Yes.” Your hand continues to jerk him as you smile at him. 
“Magic word?”
You scoff. “Coming from you?” 
He laughs. “C’mon. How many tutors taught you all those good girl manners? Can’t destroy all that hard work. I don’t want to corrupt you too much.” Your eyes narrow at him. Your thumb swipes on his tip, stroking him quickly. He jumps at that, moaning. Matty shakes his head, hair flopping with it. “Minx.”
“Please,” you say, because you know it’s a lost battle to do anything but. You brush his tip on your lips, kitten-licking him, like some added argument. He smiles proudly. 
“Of course, princess.” The joint comes to you, end faced towards you, just enough out of reach that you have to kneel up to wrap your lips around it. You take a drag, tipping your head back as you blow it out. 
Your body feels hazy, tingling pleasantly throughout. There’s a loose smile on your lips as you bend down to swallow him back in your mouth. Euphoria twists in your mind, pulling at the strings of you, and you double in efforts eagerly, happily. 
You bob quicker, deeper, moaning around his length. You breathe through your nose, trying not to gag every time he hits the back of your throat. It’s all worth it for the swears he mutters under his breath, low groans filling the car. Every fucked-out praise shoots you straight to the core. You’re dripping on the floor, wet and empty and begging for him. 
“My perfect girl,” he praises, a whiny, worshiping sound. “So pretty on her knees for me. Fucking drooling everywhere.” You laugh at that, feeling saliva drip down your cheeks. “You were made for my cock, weren’t you? Made for me.” 
You try to agree, but it’s a slobbering mess around his dick. The vibrations are enough; his eyes roll back into his skull, his hips jump. You choke on his length, releasing him with a cough, then diving back to work. 
“Can’t fucking get enough of me,” he says. His hand caresses your hair, a soothing motion. “D’you want more?” 
You nod around him. He smiles, gripping a hand in your hair. The sting gives you the same reaction as before; you moan around him, toes tingling. He pushes your mouth deeper around him. This time, you expect it; breathing through your nose, you welcome him in your throat. 
“There you go,” he whines. He can’t stop looking at you, at the mess of your mouth. “So fucking filthy.” Again, he presses you down. A moan spills out of him. You grip his knee with your free hand. 
Matty controls your head, pushing it deeper and deeper around his cock, making the most fucked-out noises from the feel of it. You pump him with your hand every time he pulls you up to his tip, stroking back to the base as he lowers you down. He does it quicker and quicker, setting a fast pace. Again, you shift on your knees, trying to soothe away that burning need between your thighs. 
Matty spots it immediately. “Are you wet?” He taunts, though it’s a little ridiculous when he’s out of breath and on the edge of a moan. You nod around him, a little whine coming out, and he smirks. “Soaked ‘cause you’re sucking my dick, huh? If I knew it got you going like this, I would have had your mouth around me every single fucking day, darling.” And it’s not like you would have objected, considering you’re the one who’s been practically chasing him for the past week. 
“Dirty girl. They all think you’re so innocent, but I know.” He smirks. “Bet your father would love to know what I’m doing to his precious girl.” Need and shame burn inside of you, and you can’t figure out which one makes you flush and your mind spin. Cockiness drips from his tongue as he trails, “‘S not my fault his daughter loves my cock, right?” You don’t know whether to nod or shake your head, instead moaning around him. 
Matty reaches the joint out, telling you, “Hold that.” You frown. It’s unlit by now, useless, and he could certainly throw it anywhere in the backseat to fish it out later. It’s not like his car is clean; trash litters it, cigarette burns scar the leather, and the smell of weed is permanent. Still, you don’t question it, unwrapping your hand from his cock to take the joint. 
It becomes apparent, then, why he asked you. Raking two hands through your hair, he keeps your head in place as his hips fuck up into you. With your hand gone and occupied, he thrusts deeper into your mouth. You gag around him, and he releases you just enough to catch your breath, before pumping past your lips again. 
He groans at every stroke, burying your nose in the faint hair scattering up his belly. Pleasure blooms on his face. He’s so pretty, so vulnerable and fucked out, face wrinkling and lips panting. 
His head falls down to look at you again. He makes a whine from the back of his throat. “Fuck, you’ve got spit everywhere.” It’s true, chin wet as slurping sounds resonate on the steamy windows. 
If your ex-boyfriend had even tried to lose a hand in your hair and push your head down, you’d have bit him with a vengeance. But kneeling like this with Matty using you only brings a sick pleasure out of you. You feel your core throb, thighs sticky with need. You don’t know what he’s doing to you, don’t understand how he manages to ruin you so thoroughly. 
Your nails dig into his knee, the other hand pinching the joint. Your eyes water at every thrust until tears roll down your eyes, mixing with the wet of your cheeks and chin. 
Matty awes, sickly amused as he sings, “Are you crying?” You feel suddenly embarrassed, attempting to shake your head, deny the proofs streaming down your cheeks. “Is Daddy’s dick too big for you?” The nickname strikes through the daze, shock and arousal coursing through your veins. 
Matty doesn’t even realize what he’s said, too gone to mind any words. A string of curses  comes next as he bobs your head. Still, it’s all you can think about, playing back the word in that filthy head of yours. 
“You’re doing so well, baby,” he promises. “Just a little bit more.” His hand strokes your cheek, wiping at the runaway tears. “Gonna make me come so hard. D’you want my cum?” You nod vaguely. He grins at that. “Yeah? Wanna fucking swallow it?” You hum around him, excited. He moans, “Fuck. You’re such a slut.” 
Again, there should be outrage, should be a dramatic tear off his dick as you tell him off, but he says it in such a reverent way, like a compliment, a praise, and you find yourself whining around him instead. Your cunt throbs, empty and lonely, and maybe you are a slut after all. You’ve been nothing but a needy, begging mess for him anyway. If it gives you this much pleasure in exchange, is there really something wrong with it? 
Matty senses the way you preen under the name. He smirks, fucking up faster, chasing an end. “My little slut. So perfect, made for me. Would spend her days on her knees, wouldn’t she? Till she’s all bruised and fucked out.” His thrusts grow erratic. “I’d take care of you, princess. I’d put you in the best bed and I’d pump you full of my cum until you’re dripping with it. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Like being my little fucktoy?” A yes comes out garbled out of your mouth. “All those smarts, gone for a dirty man like me. Fucking ironic, isn’t it?” 
You hollow your cheeks, run your tongue, hope to finish him. Hear his pretty cries, see his scrunched, coming face, taste his cum. Let it be your turn. 
You take back charge as Matty gets too hazy to make sense of anything, much less the furious tempo he’s set. You bob up and down with abandon, slobbering everywhere. His hips stutter, meeting you halfway. His cock twitches in your mouth. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Matty cries. His fingers dig into your hair, pulling vengefully. “Shit, princess, I’m—” With a scream, he comes on your tongue. 
His body shivers as the tangy taste of white ropes spill down your throat. You swallow everything, watching his face as it grows peaceful. A slack, happy smile shines on his lips. He strokes your hair, as if an apology. 
Only when he softens do you pull out of him, saliva stringing from his tip to your lip. You lick it off, chuckling. Show off your empty mouth. His cum is all gone. 
“Good girl,” Matty praises, out of breath. He tucks his cock back in his jeans. “What do we say now?” 
“Thank you.” 
He hums. “I think you deserve a reward for doing so well for me.” You grin at him, childishly excited. He laughs, taking both your hands and raising you off your knees. “You want that, don’t you?” You bite your lip.
As soon as you’re up, he digs under your skirt, pulling off your underwear. You gasp as the air hits your bare skin. He rubs a thumb on the wet patch of the pink fabric, arching an eyebrow for you. “So fucking ready for me just from sucking my cock.” 
“Not just from sucking your cock,” you say. “I’ve been ready for you all week.”
“Is that so?” Matty flips you around, sitting you square on his lap, your back against his chest. This close, you can smell the sweat and weed on him. Each leg hangs from the sides of his knees. He parts them, spreading you wide, putting you on display. 
There’s the knowledge that anyone could see you tugging at the back of your mind. No matter the smoke, and the fogged up windows, and the dark of the night, it’s still a public alleyway. They could walk in on you, cunt out, wet and throbbing. It’s nasty, and it’s hot, and now you’re grinding against nothing, hoping for friction. 
Thankfully, Matty indulges you, wrapping his arm around your waist and teasing two fingers over your swollen clit. You jump, already oversensitive, moaning at the little contact. He rubs in slow circles. 
“I could have had you any time, then?” He whispers in your ear. “Could have pulled you in the dry storage and had my dirty way with you?” 
“Yes.” 
His touch becomes faster, pressing harder, zeroing in on your bud with a middle finger. You scrunch your face, already so close. A little pout comes on your face. You don’t want to finish without his fingers inside of you, not when you’ve been this eager for them. Your pussy clenches around nothing, unsatisfied. 
“Any day, any time, anywhere?” His hand ghosts at your entrance, gathering a pool of your dripping juices. 
“Yes,” you repeat, almost frustrated he doesn’t get it. You need him all the time. He seems satisfied by your answer, dipping two fingers inside your cunt. 
You gasp, wrinkling your face with the overwhelming euphoria that spreads through you. The stretch is delicious. You’re already rolling your hips into his fingers, begging for more. 
He bites at your earlobe, licking down your neck. Husky and gravely, he teases, “You would scream my name so the whole restaurant knows whose cock is fucking you this good? So they know that little princess likes to get railed filthy by an old, sleazy man?” As though to demonstrate, he pumps his fingers quicker into you. Sopping sounds resonate with your answering whines. 
It’s a silly question. As if you haven’t had that exact fantasy before, playing over and over as guests criticize your every move. You insist, “Yes, Daddy.”
Matty’s fingers freeze inside of you. His heart races, the rhythm drumming on your back. Your eyes snap open, scared you’ve done something wrong. He’s the one who— A flush spreads up your cheeks. You’re so disgusting, using that nickname while he— 
“Say it again.” He’s choked and out of breath. Turned on. You smirk, victorious. 
You grip his wrist and make him pump inside of you again. You let your head fall on his shoulder, moaning, “Daddy, please, make me come.” 
“Fuck.” It’s all the incentive he needs, apparently, because now he’s thrusting and curling inside of you, finding that magical spot each time. The heel of his hand rubs at your clit, making jolts of pleasure spark through you. His other hand snakes around your chest and paws at your breast, digging under your shirt to rub the nipple. 
Every sensation works perfectly together to get you buzzing with ecstasy. You feel drunk— or high— mind swirling inside your head until all you know is his name. Your core tightens, toes curling and uncurling. 
“Come on my fingers,” he demands, voice low and hoarse. “Fucking drench Daddy’s hand. I wanna taste you.”
There’s something so desperate in his voice that makes you even needier. You throb around his digits, eyebrows furrowing, strings thinning. He pinches your nipple. You open your mouth with a silent cry, shaking all over. 
“That’s it,” he coos. “I got you, baby. You’re right there.” You nod frantically. “Just come for me. Come. Come—” Just like he demands, your body breaks and you shatter on his fingers. 
Euphoria spreads through you, that overwhelming sense of relief. His name burns your tongue, over and over, a plea and a reverence and a worship. He continues to slide in and out of you, slowly, tenderly, until you’re done shaking and throbbing. 
Your body hums pleasantly, bone-deep happy. You practically melt on his body, each limb letting go and settling into him. You sigh, satisfied. Finally haunts your head. Yet, you’re already looking out for next time. 
Matty pulls out of you. He brings his wet fingers to his mouth; you hear the pornographic moan he makes as he cleans them. You flush, too tired to make a chastising comment. 
“Best meal in town,” he says, cheeky. You half-slap him, half-giggle. 
His hand falls from your breasts, but wraps around your waist instead, pulling you even closer, trapping you in the heat of his arms. He kisses your cheek. “We can stay like this for a little while. I’ll drive you home after.” 
You crack an eye open. “Are you high?”
He scoffs. “No.” He grins against your cheek, teasing, “You’ve sobered me up.”
Being cute does not distract you. You hum, unconvinced. “What’s the alphabet backwards?”
“Are you fucking kidding—” He blows air from his nose. Resigned, he recites, “Z, Y, X—”
It’s fifteen past ten and the house is empty. Groceries linger on the kitchen island and you could, theoretically, put them all together yourself. Though it’s just not quite the same when you have to do the work under the orange light of the kitchen hood, alone except for some sad blues and a bottle of white and the sizzling sound of the pan. 
In your hand, an apologetic text flashes at you. You bite on a humus dipped carrot, bitter. You understand, you say, and pretend you believe him when he swears he’ll make it up to you. You take a long sip of your wine glass. 
You stare at the lonely apartment. An idea tickles the back of your mind. It would be a waste of wine, and space, and freedom if you dutifully went to bed now. Your hand lingers on his contact, then press on the picture of Matty’s frown, cigarette hanging between his lips. 
I have my place all to myself. Do you wanna come? You hit send before you overthink it. A rush of anxiety swipes through you. 
He’s quick to answer. depends. do i get to cum anywhere? You roll your eyes. He’s truly insufferable sometimes. 
Invitation retracted. 
i’m on my way
You can’t control the pleased grin on your face, but there’s no one to see it anyway. You can indulge a little in the childish thrill that blooms inside your stomach. You feel sunshine from the inside-out. 
He’s ringing your doorbell the next time you hear of him. By then you’re already a little flushed with wine, practically running to the door to buzz him in. 
A knock resonates just a few minutes later. You swing the door wide open. “Hi.” Again, you can’t seem to control your giddy smile. 
“You shouldn’t open the door just like that. I could’ve been a bad man.” 
“You are.” Matty snorts. You move out of the doorframe, gesturing for him to step inside. 
He walks your flat with confidence, though he hasn't been here since that fatal night and, even then, it had been a quick in and out thing. He lingers a little to take in the set-up. The open floor plan, the L leather couch, the massive dining table and the kitchen island that hasn’t seen any action in months. It’s a shame for a family of chefs how little you use it. 
It’s the first time you’ve seen him outside of a work setting, either a grueling shift or the drunk aftermath. He’s cleaner; white shirt rid of stains, jeans unburdened by an apron. He still sports a stumble, ever lazy to shave it off, but his hair sprouts in soft curls from his head. There’s a lack of gloomy energy, like what you thought was a permanent tired look was, in fact, reserved for the restaurant. He looks good is what you mean.
Matty stares you up and down shamelessly, taking in your off-duty outfit as well. A collared shirt buttoned conservatively, tucked into a black skirt, leather heeled loafers and white socks at your feet. Your hands shine with silver rings. You are, admittedly, much cleaner than him. Matty seems to dig your preppy look anyway, licking a gaze up and down your legs, rubbing his smirk away with two of his fingers. 
You side-step him, making your way to the kitchen. Matty follows behind you, taking the time to gaze at the paintings dotting your walls. Pretentious things your father bought because he was told by other people they were masterpieces, they were technical, they were touching. You get to the cabinets, searching for a matching wine glass.  
“Why’d you invite me?” Matty asks, seemingly an afterthought. He peers at your half-empty glass, raising it to examine the wine. 
“I was supposed to have dinner with my dad, but he’s too busy today after all.” You turn to Matty with a glass in hand. “There’s some sort of important event with investors that just came up. He couldn’t untangle himself,” you press. You don’t know why you feel the need to rehash your father’s excuses, as though you had to defend him to Matty. It’s silly; he doesn’t even care, instead bringing your wine glass to his nose and giving it a swirl.
“It’s a Chenin Blanc.” You say as you uncork the bottle, pouring him his own glass. You slide it his way, tsking regretfully, “It was gonna pair beautifully with the seared scallops.” There’s a tinge of bitterness in your voice, and you try your best to smooth it. You can’t sound annoyed. 
“Served with what?” 
“Baby spinach and spiced pomegranate glaze.” 
“Damn,” Matty shakes his head. “That does sound good.” He takes a seat at the dining table, shamelessly making himself at home. He cocks his head, bringing the glass to his lips. “So, what? You invited me to cook it for you instead?”
Your lips twitch. “I’ve already eaten actually.” A mismatch of carrots, humus, swiss cheese and chocolate-covered blueberries eaten standing up at the kitchen island, but a meal nonetheless. 
Matty hums. He leans back on his chair, smirking to himself. “You know, I feel a bit peckish myself.” 
Your arch an eyebrow, playful as you drawl, “Is that so?” The cheeky, knowing look on his face wakes the heat in your belly. You clench your thigh; he spots it, amused. “There’s food in the fridge.” 
“A miracle! She has more than kraft dinner.”
“I didn’t specify which food. Maybe mac’n’cheese is all that’s waiting for you.”
Matty smiles. “I think I’m craving something else.” His hand reaches out, grabbing yours until you stumble into him. 
You grip his shoulders to balance yourself, both legs siding one of his knees. He looks at you with those dark, dangerous eyes that announce nothing but trouble. You tower over him, see him blinking his spiderleg eyelashes up at you. His lips part, pretty and red. A rush of excitement shoots through you. Your breath hitches. 
“Wow,” you say, mocking. “You just got here and you’re already trying to bend me over the table. Didn’t even ask me about my day.” 
“Oh, sorry,” he says, faux-apologetic. His hands dig into your thighs, picking you up and hoisting you on the table. You sit before him, blush as he spreads your legs out for him. With a cheeky, shit-eating grin, he looks up at you and says, “How was your day, princess?”
You up your nose, ignoring his bait. “It was good. I—” His hands rise up your thighs, brushing against your silky smooth skin. You can’t stop the shivers. “Fuck, I went to the library and—” 
He bends down, peppering sweet kisses where his fingertips had been. Your breath hitches at the ghosting touch, teasing and tickling and lighting you up. He looks up at you, face nearing where you need him most. “Mmh, and what?” 
“Just— shit.” He spreads your legs further apart, giving him ample access to bite and suck at your thigh, which he does with worshiping abandon. He soothes away the hurt with a tongue. You pant, moaning lowly, “I started early on my first week readings for—”
Matty snorts. “Nerd.”
“It’s actually really essential to—” He slips your underwear aside, finding your clit and thumbing a lazy circle on it. “Ah, fucking hell, Matty!” 
He smiles, so fucking proud. His finger speeds up. “What book did you read?” 
“Well, the textbook. It was— It’s about—” Words escape your mouth when his tongue is burning your skin, getting closer and closer to where his thumb is hard at work. Euphoria shakes in your stomach. You bite your lip, gripping the edge of the table. 
“Yes?” He blinks up at you, condescendingly begging, “Please, educate a poor, simple plebeian.”
You bite your cheek, teasing, “I don’t know if I can. He’s really only good at fucking.”
Matty rolls his eyes. “You’re missing the other reason I’m good with my hands.”
And he makes it easy to forget all about his cooking skills when he dips two fingers inside your wet entrance, pumping you slowly on the dinner table. God-given hands, made to bring you to the very edge and back. You curse, gripping the wood under your palms even harder. 
“I’m waiting.”
You huff. “It’s microeconomics. It’s comparing comparative averages and absolute advantages of high.” 
He grins. “Well, which one wins?”
“Comparative. It’s always better as you lose because the opportunity cost is smaller and— Oh, fuck—” Your legs tremble, your face scrunching as he hits the sinful spot inside of you that has you singing. You pant to catch your breath, groaning, “It’s better when you— Matty—”
“My smart girl,” Matty praises, curling his fingers inside of you just so. “You learned all of this already. Don’t even need to study that you’re fucking moaning it for me.” He plants a kiss on the top of your thigh. “It’s better when…”
Your mind is languid, euphoria pumping inside of you with the rhythm of his hand. You try to blink to conscience, peering down at him. “It’s better when the opportunity cost—” He makes rapid swipes at your clit and pleasure jolts through you. You shake your head. “You know what? You don’t need to know all this. You can just be dumb and pretty and warm my bed all day. Be my trophy husband.”
He snickers. “Yeah? Gonna make me your little housewife?” 
You grin, volleying back, “Keep you cooking and fucking all day while I earn the big bucks, babe.” One hand rises up to his hair, digging into the mess of it. You smirk. “But you’d have to be very good for me. Keep me satisfied at all times.” 
“Oh, don’t worry.” His fingers quicken, thrusting in and out of you until you’re whining for him. “I’d fill you up every night and leave you sticky and happy.” The wet sounds of your cunt fill the kitchen. You don’t doubt him for one second. 
Your breath leaves in puffs out of your mouth. You tilt your head back, moaning for the ceiling, eyes wrinkled shut. Your hand tugs at his hair, rejoicing in his pathetic little groans. You fall back, smiling mischievously at him. “I thought you were hungry.”
His eyes flash. “Fucking famished.” He bends down and licks your cunt. 
You jump, rolling your hips into his face, chasing those delicious reverbs. He licks at your clit with a pointed tongue, pressing into the sensitive bundle of nerves until honey ecstasy is spreading through your veins. 
One hand fucks into you with calculated efficiency; hard and fast, just like you like it. The other holds your red underwear aside, fingers pressing into the meat of your thigh, leaving fingertip prints to remember him by. 
“Matty!” Pleasure boils inside of you. You’ve missed his tongue, missed the way he tastes at you: starved, diligent, fucking slurping the last drop. You cry his name over and over, a sweet chant that encourages him on. 
Thank fuck for his hands. They slide wetly inside of you, searching for hot ecstasy and pulling it out of you in drowning moans. You tug at his hair, grip the table, try to attach yourself to something as you;
“Matty, I’m—” He knows, of course, because you’re throbbing around his fingers. He circles your clit with his tongue, swiping at it, adding enough sinful pleasure that you feel your orgasm grow and grow. It expands in your belly, threatens your limbs; “I’m gonna—”
You come with a scream, falling apart on his tongue. He doesn’t slow yet. His mouth is hard at work, his fingers pumping into you still. He chases your orgasm until the end, until you’re shaking and whimpering from the intensity. You push his head, and only then does he release you, smiling up at you with sticky cheeks. 
“Good?”
You brush his curls back, smiling happily. “You might earn yourself a weekly allocation if you keep it up, babe.” 
“I’m the luckiest trophy husband in the world.” 
You twist one of his curls around his finger, so light and elated that you feel no shyness or shame to say, “D’you want to see my room?” 
He half-grins. “Yeah.” 
You jump from the table, grabbing his hand. He lingers by the table just long enough to shoot back half of his wine glass in one gulp, slamming it down on the table with a satisfied sigh. It stands there with a stain of your slick in the shape of his lips. 
You deadpan him. “Good wine shouldn’t be wasted,” he defends. 
“I don’t even think you let it stay on your tongue long enough to taste it.” 
You regret your choice of words as soon as you say them. Cursing, you already expect the joke when he quips, “Didn’t want to disrupt the other taste that’s in my mouth right now, you see?” 
You roll your eyes. “It’s down the hallway,” you say, and tug at his hand until he follows. 
You push the door into your childhood bedroom. It’s a clean, organized place, but it maintains its youthful element, like a time capsule. Matty steps in, intrigued. It’s the first time he’s ever been and he paces it with curiosity. 
The shelves are decorated with childhood trophies; debate, math, punctuality. Even a participation medal from fifth grade soccer hangs on the corner. Thick, leather books mix with colorful cracked spines of YA literature on the bookshelf, along with fake plants and gaudy trinkets. The walls host picture frames of dental braced friends smiling wide. You have awful bangs in some of them and you stick your tongue out at the flash. On the bed, Mr Snuffles — a leopard plushie — lays like a king. 
You flush. You hadn’t realized how childish your bedroom at home still was. You’ve got an uncomfortable need to tear it all down and build it back as a refined, clean look..
“Cute,” he says, and you want to bury straight into the ground. He taps a picture of prom where you hold the arm of a visibly nervous teenage boy. “Was that your little boyfriend who couldn’t make you come?”
“No, that was my friend. I wasn’t interested in dating back then. I was a very serious girl.” 
He chuckles, turning back to you. He jokes, “Hard to believe now.” You shake your head, pretending to be bothered. He eyes the photograph once more. “You look pretty.” 
“Thanks.” It comes squeaked out of your lips. You really didn’t expect the compliment. 
He continues to inspect until you grow tired of it. You huff, deciding to go on the offensive until he takes a hint. “You know, I’ve actually never had any guy here before.” 
Matty flips to you, grinning. “No?” 
“No.” Your fingers fly to your collar and slowly start unbuttoning the top one, a silent invitation. 
“Very, very serious girl.” Matty watches your fingers, devouring the skin you unveil for him. The cups of your red bra peek in view. His eyes grow dark, though he still doesn’t move to do it himself. 
“I was very studious.” 
You get to your very last button. The shirt parts, a cracked door vision into your needy body. Matty drawls, slow and nonchalant, unrushed, “Must’ve spent a lot of time with your hand between your legs, then, if no one’s been here before.”
You try not to grow embarrassed. You have spent a lot of time doing so, mostly in recent weeks. You push the shirt past your shoulders and it drops at your feet. Matty’s eyes immediately fall to your breasts, rising with panting breaths for him. 
“Maybe,” you whisper shyly. You bend down to slip off your shoes, sliding your socks off your feet. 
“Thought about me a lot during it?” He asks, cocky. 
You straighten up again. You dig in your cheek, feeling both of them heat. “Maybe.” You find the zipper at your side and draw it down slowly, teasingly. Your skirt falls limply around your hips and you shimmy it down your legs. 
It seems you’ve found yourself half-naked to a very much dressed Matty again. His gaze devours every inch of your skin, licking up your legs, biting your hips, teasing your navel. You grow wet between your thighs just from the promise in his eyes. 
Your hand reaches behind yourself to your bra, but Matty tuts. “That’s mine,” he says, and there’s an air of danger in his voice. Your arms fall back to your sides, burned. You stand a bit straighter for him, aching deep inside yourself. 
Matty takes long, slow steps towards you, letting the need boil and bubble inside of you. He stands before you, looking down into your eyes. Your lips part, your heart screams his name. He grazes two fingers along your waist, snaking to your back, and kisses you. 
You respond with an eager tongue, opening your lips up to him and kissing him back. He still tastes like you, like your slick that dried on his cheeks. You shiver at the thought. 
His hands find the small of your back, heavy and pressing into you, so fucking present you feel your mind twists on itself. You travel yours up his arms, finding his shoulders and sneaking into the hair at his nape. 
He tilts his head to change the angle and your legs clench. He draws out all your wanton needs with his skilled tongue, makes you putty and malleable. You’re ready for him, for anything. 
His fingers dance on your spine, climbing up each vertebrae until they catch on your bra band. Your breath hitches. He unhooks it. Matty stops kissing you to pull the bra off your arms. 
Your breasts lay in view, pebbled and peaked. He takes a good look at them, then bends down to catch a nipple into his mouth. “Fuck, Matty!” Your hands twist at his curls, tugging and patting as he sucks and nips your tits. 
He leaves bites on the underside, your sternum, kissing and licking down your stomach until he knees before you. You moan, still unused to the sight of him. Each hand hooks to a side of your underwear and he pulls it down and off your legs. You keep a stabilizing grip on his hair as you step out of it. 
Matty comes back up to you, breathing harshly. He kisses your lips one last time, then draws you on the bed. You’re laying on the purple sheets for him, naked and wet and flushed. Every body part is aware of him and looks it. 
Still, Matty takes a step back. “Show me what you do when you think of me.” You stare at him in shock. You’re naked for him, laying on your bed in godly offerance like a fucking daydream, and he wants you to finger yourself? 
Matty laughs. “Come on, princess,” he teases. “Show Daddy.” The nickname jolts you. Tiny, electrical shivers run down your spine and you bite your lip, brushing a hand down your stomach. 
You waste no time, too drunk on pleasure and want to bother teasing yourself. You part your legs and rub two fingers on your swollen clit, jumping at the sudden feeling. You bite your lip, cracking your eyes open to find Matty’s
His eyes watch you with obsession. You make a low whimper for him, circling your bundle of nerves, arching your back. A tantalizing show, hopefully enough to get him to touch you. You want him so deeply you’re shivering for him, hot and dripping all over. 
You’re efficient and quick; you know all the spots of yourself and press them just so. Pleasure is not something you draw out, pumping and rubbing until you develop carpal tunnel. You’re in and out, wiping your fingers clean on your thigh. 
It’s why you’re already dipping your digits inside yourself. You cry at the stretch, though never as delicious and fulfilling as his. Still, ecstasy runs through your body. 
“Matty,” you moan, and once again hope the breathy, needy shape of his name in your mouth is enough to get him to replace your hardworking fingers. 
“I’m right here, baby,” he says, transfixed by your hands, your mouth, your panting tits. You see his gaze and smirk, grabbing your breast and twisting the nipple. A low whine leaves you. “Fuck. Does that feel good?” 
You nod furiously. Your fingers slide quickly in and out of you. “Not as good as you, though,” you pout. 
Matty grins, cocky and a dick about it. “‘Course not.” 
Your eyes flutter shut. You let yourself be taken over by the euphoria swimming through you. Your mouth calls his name like it was him making you feel this way and not the three fingers fucking into you. In a way, it’s the fact that he’s here that draws this overwhelming pleasure out of you. It’s never been this intense with yourself. 
“What do you think of when you’re in your head?” He whispers, sounding affected by the spectacle you give him. 
You bite your lip, trembling. “You. You on your knees for me behind the bar. You bending me over the sink of the bathroom in the middle of two guests. You letting me suck your dick on the staircase of the alleyway. You fingering me at The Darling in front of Landon until I fucking come all over the booth.”
“All these nasty thoughts while you’re tucked tight in your little bed?” 
You nod. “I replay that night in the kitchen over, and over, and over. I know every little detail, everything you've done to me—” Behind your eyelids, graphic images of you pressed into the ground, giggling and coming, flash to you. It’s too much; you snap. Your eyes flash open. “Fuck me, Daddy. Please.”
“You need it?”
“I need it so, so bad.” Your wrist is tired between your legs. Still, you work, feeling the intensity build to an impossible degree. “Need you. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”
“Shit,” he groans. You see the tent in his jeans and know he’s just as ready as you. “Don’t worry, princess. I’ll give it to you.” A grin shines on your face. You clench around your fingers in excitement. “Just as soon as you come for me.”
You pout. A whiny cry comes out of you. “It’s not the same without you.” 
“I know, baby,” he pouts, faux-broken over it as if he wasn’t the one putting you through this torture. “You’re doing so well for me. I wanna see you come now, though. Can you do that for me?”
Your stomach tightens and you know that you can, that you will. You’re still a little bitter, holding back as though in just a few seconds Matty was gonna get to his knees and finish you off yourself. 
“Your clit’s feeling a little neglected, isn’t it?” You moan, pressing into your bud like he silently demanded. Your legs kick at the sensation. You arch your back, crying to the ceiling. “That’s it. You’re so close.” You rub and fuck until you can taste the ecstasy. Goddammit. 
“You’re right there,” he says, and makes it true. You feel your orgasm threaten the edges of you. “Just a bit more. Come on, fuck yourself. Think of me, of my cock. That’s right, princess.” You scream, staring into his eyes. He devours each inch of you, so fucking eager. “You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you? Right now. Come for Daddy.” With a mewl, your climax crashes through you. 
Your body slackens, pleasure swooping through you in one grandiose wave. Relief washes you, and then the slight bitterness that it was all your own doing. Barely reeling from the orgasm and you’re already needing more. 
You don’t ride out the climax; Matty rips your fingers out of you and sucks them into his mouth. You sigh at the sight as he rolls his tongue around your digits. It’s sinful the way he moans, like the best fucking meal of his life. 
He releases them with a pop, then kisses your palm. “So good, babe. You did amazing.” He kisses your wrist. “You’re my little princess, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” you pout. His lips trail up your arm, tickling your sensitive skin. You shiver, moaning as he brushes your shoulder and licks up your collarbone. 
“How do you want me? Since you’ve been thinking about it all the fucking time.” He kisses your neck. You moan, fluttering your eyelashes. 
“I wanna ride you,” you breathe out. 
Matty smirks against your skin. “Yeah? Gonna get yourself off on Daddy’s dick?”
You grin, nodding eagerly. “Gonna make you feel so good, too.” 
He smiles. “Alright then, baby.” He rolls onto his back, pulling you on top of him. You sit on his lap like a throne. “Make me feel good.”
You shake your head, pulling his shirt up his chest. “Get naked first. I wanna see you.” 
“She’s demanding.”
“It’s my fantasy.” Matty chuckles. Still, he tugs his shirt off his shoulders, throwing it beyond your bed. 
You had been so drunk on his cock the first time it happened, you hadn’t been able to really get a good look at him. This time, your eyes lap up every inch of his skin, especially the tattooed ones. You draw the outlines of them with the tip of your fingers. He shivers at the feeling as you dance on his hip, his happy trail, his chest. You press a hand there, holding yourself up. 
“Pants,” you order. You have a finely tuned demanding voice; you’ve led many school projects with an iron fist and an unarguable tone. Still, you know Matty only humors you when he obeys, kicking off his shoes, unbuttoning his pants and pushing them off. 
His cock slaps his stomach. It’s hard and leaking, and your mouth waters at the sight. You feel your sticky thighs beg for him. Cunt fluttering, you take him in your fist, jerking him slowly. Matty moans as his head falls back on the pillows. Oh, you will like that. Already, the power rushes to your head, loosening it drunkenly. 
You hoist yourself on your knees, then hesitate. Quickly, you grab your leopard plushie and turn him around until he faces the other way. 
Matty stares at you in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?” 
“Mr. Snuffles doesn’t need to see that!” You cry out, defensive. 
“I can’t believe I’m about to shag in a bed with a stuffed toy right there.”
You raise your eyebrows, cocky. “Don’t get it wrong. I’m shagging you.”
Matty’s hands travel up to your hips, spreading over the bones possessively. He smiles up at you. “Do it, then. Fuck me.” You smile, taking his cock and leading it to your dripping cunt. 
You line it up, then slowly slide down on his length. Loud, relieved moans leave your and Matty’s mouth. A shared song drumming up both your spines in harmony. You bottom out and think fucking finally. 
“Oh, God,” you breathe, eyes rolling back. You take a second there, immobile, reveling in the heavenly moment. The way he fills you up so perfectly, stretches you in the most delicious ways. Your cunt throbs around him, eager. 
He makes a low curse, digging his nails into your hips. You sense his becoming restless, the insistent way he presses into your skin, as though physically stopping himself from holding you in place and fucking up into him. Indulgently, you begin moving. 
You haven’t been on top very often. You always used to find yourself sore and tired and bored after a few minutes, begging to either roll onto your back or end it right there. This time, however, there’s a practically all-consuming need to succeed. You want to fuck him, to permanently engrave his brain with the memory of you. 
You come at it like schoolwork; focused, diligent, persistent. You attempt experimental thrusts at first, getting yourself used to how deep he hits you. It’s slow, tentative things; you try different angles, sliding in and out, frowning as you analyze the different ways pleasure blooms under your skin. 
Under you, Matty groans, puffing out breaths. “I can hear you thinking. Stop it.”
You arch an eyebrow. “It was ‘what a smart girl’ thirty minutes ago, but now it’s ‘turn off your brain’?”
“Exactly. Want you to be fucked stupid now.” 
You snort. “That’s not gonna happen.” 
He hums, smirking. “Don’t give me a challenge.” You roll your eyes. 
You settled on a rocking rhythm, something that hits all the perfect places inside of you. Your hair sticks to your nape, effort trembling your thighs already. You moan, roll your head back. “Like that?” You breathe out. Euphoria begins to prickle at your skin and your smile slackens your mouth. 
“Yeah, baby,” Matty nods. “Just—” His hold on your hips is strangling. His hands clench, begging you to give something mindnumbing. “Go faster.” 
You ignore his request, continuing that slow, teasing pace. You love feeling every inch of his cock as you buck on it, love to hear him grow desperate for you for a change. Every pathetic, quiet groan he makes resonates straight to your core. Head still rolled back to the ceiling, you rock stubbornly, smiling to yourself. 
A particularly artful stroke has your nails digging into his chest. He shivers under you. “Fuck, faster,” Matty pants.  
You smirk down at him, cheeky. “What’s the magic word, princess?” 
Matty rolls his eyes. “Don’t get bratty,” he says, then gives your ass a warning spank. You jump at the sting, bucking on his cock. Low heat simmers through you. You bite your lip, quickening your thrusts dutifully. Matty smirks at you, all-knowing. 
You speed up, falling back on his length again and again until the slapping sounds of your skins fill the room. You sense the resonating ecstasy pull at your stomach. You’re aware, unfortunately, that he’s right. It’s better, stronger. 
“That’s right,” he says, and you want to slap that shit-eating grin off his lips. “Fucking faster.” You obey like some deep-seated instinct, bouncing above him. 
A part of you wants to slow to a snail pace and teach him a lesson — get him reciting all those patience proverbs he’s so keen on — but a bigger part of you melts and drips at the ecstasy pulsing through you. Speedy, deep rolls have you shaking, moaning his name like a worship. You’re irrationally convinced you might die if you even try to slow down, like losing the pleasure he’s coaxing out of you right now would be a fatal crash. 
Again, he gives you that teasing, devilish stares that tells you he’s well aware of the burning heat he causes you. His lips stretch up into a smirk, and he parts them to talk some more. You slap a hand over his mouth instead. “Shut it,” you warn. He laughs under your palm, too happy at your reaction. 
His tongue sticks out, licking your hand childishly, and you release him. “You only like my mouth for one thing,” he says, pouting at you. 
“Don’t give me ideas.” 
“Want to sit on it again, huh?” He teases, cocking his head. “Maybe when you’re done fucking me.” He licks his teeth. “Though I doubt you’ll have the energy to sit up then. I’ll have to lay you down and clean you all up. Would you like that, baby?” 
“Anything that doesn’t involve you talking.”
Matty hums, and you sense the danger in his tone. You’ve pushed him just a bit too far, and the low thrum of thrill resonates in your stomach. You hold your breath, sick apprehension bringing you sinful pleasure. 
“You’ve got a mouth on you today,” he says. “Should’ve filled it up before I gave you what you wanted. Wouldn’t have so much to say if you were drooling and crying for my cock.” You wonder if that’s exactly what he’ll do; pull you off by your hips and onto your knees for a lesson. 
Instead, his hand pinches your nipple, then snakes up your chest, your collarbone, spreading over your throat. You clench around him, lust flashing in your eyes, and he smiles at you. “My little slut,” he coos. “You’d let me do anything.” 
You rock on him furiously, humping his lap to get rid of that building pressure in your core. Your mouth hangs open, pathetic whimpers spilling out every time your clit rubs on his pelvis. “Yes, Daddy,” you say in that sweet tone he knows is nothing but trouble. 
“Touch your clit,” he orders, and you’ve got a hand flying between your thighs, swiping on the bundle of nerves with abandon. You mewl in his lap, fucking and rubbing until you’re dripping on him. When you’re halfway through a moan, pussy clenching around his cock, Matty presses into your neck. 
The moan dies in your throat, mouth hanging open as a rush of adrenaline spreads through you. Your head swarms with silence, a sort of calmness buzzing and tingling under your face, and you feel every thrust of his cock he pumps up into you like a true hit of ecstasy. You whine, suspended in the moment. 
“My pretty girl,” he whispers. You roll your eyes. “My girl.”
His fingers release your throat and the sudden breath of air buzzes through you. The world sharpens; you sense his cock, his skin under your palms, his hand still around your neck— like he owns you. Your cunt tightens at the idea, something pretty stringing up your spine. Pleasure intensifies, practically breathing with you, until your brain rushes with endorphins.
“There she is. So good for me now,” he says and your lips stretch up with a proud grin. You’re lazy on your bones, letting him rock you on his cock without a care. “You wouldn’t do this for anyone, would you?” 
You shake your head fervently. “Only you.” 
“That’s right,” he nods. “Only me.” He sneaks a thumb to your clit, pushing away your slack hand and working at it himself. “No fucking guy can make you feel like this.” 
“I know,” you whine, and there’s the faint heartbreak of it tugging at the back of your mind. Nothing tangible, just the knowledge of what you’ll spend the rest of your life mourning and missing once he’s gone. Once you’re gone.
He lets go of your neck, dropping it to your waist, and you whine at the loss. It quickly turns into a moan as he uses both hands to guide you on his length properly. A quick, hard tempo sets, shaking your legs with growing pleasure. You feel him in the deepest part of you, hitting again and again that sweet spot as he puppeteers your freely given hips. 
“God, Matty.”
He smirks. “That was redundant.” You roll your eyes, half from pleasure and half from annoyance. He chuckles at that, happily giving a deep stroke that has you purring for him, as though to prove his point. 
You hold your weight up with a hand beside his head, drooping into the mattress. You tilt your hips, angling yourself perfectly for his drilling cock. Your face breaks open with a moan, but you shake your head. You force your eyes open to take in his face; sweaty and flushed and overwhelmed with pleasure and work. You lick your lips. Pleasure swirls in your belly, tightening and tightening until you have to believe you’ve driven yourself mad. 
“Daddy,” you whine for him. Your free hand flies back to your thighs, rubbing at your clit until your lungs catch on fire. “Make me come,” you plea. “I need you. I need—” You press into your bud, groaning at the rush of ecstasy. 
Matty laughs and the mean sound only drives you further into lust. You grip the sheets, trying to catch on fire. “Thought you were gonna shag me,” he mocks. “Thought you were gonna get off all on your own.” He tsks, bucking into you wildly, sounding out of breath as he adds, “But you need Daddy to make you come, don’t you?” 
You shake your head, as if the evidence wasn’t dripping all over his cock, spilling from your lips in incoherent slurs. “No?” He says, again just as merciless in his taunting. He halts inside of you and you cry, shaking your head. “Do it, then,” he laughs. 
He raises his hands up your waist, dancing on the ribs. He gropes your tits, circling the nipples. It becomes apparent to you that he’s not joking. You pout, finding your balance again and rising to your knees, falling back with thunderous force. Your legs shake; you’re exhausted and sore, whiny as you obey him. 
“That’s it, princess,” he praises. It’s enough to spark some motivation. You furrow your eyebrows, bouncing on his cock, puffing breaths falling from your lips. Sweat pearls on your forehead, but you continue, undeterred. “God, you’re so fucking filthy.”
You mewl, redoubling efforts. You find something close to those quick, harsh thrusts Matty was giving, just slightly poorer. You fuck mindlessly, not bothering to rub your clit on his pelvis or find that delicious spot inside of you. Pleasure fills your mind anyway. 
“Doing so well,” he moans. His fingers play with your nipples; your head pulls back, crying out. “Use my cock. Ride it ‘till you come all over it.” You whine, nodding fervently. “Need to feel you again,” he pants. “Need to feel that cunt as it fucking squeezes me.” 
Ecstasy swarms through you. You moan, digging your claws into your sheets. You squeeze around him, over and over, a clear-tell warning. His name and a string of curses come out of your lips broken. He pinches your nipple. 
“I’m gonna—”
“Ask,” he groans, a choking sound that rips out of him. 
“Can I—” Your body trembles, the taste of climax spreading under your skin. You scrunch your face. “Daddy, please, can I—” You finish it with a moan, losing your train of thought.
“Use your big girl words,” he taunts, climbing one hand up. Your breath catches as he nears your neck; a swirling hit of excitement so true it makes you lightheaded. Still, he doesn’t linger, instead cupping your jaw and sticking his thumb in your mouth. 
Your hips are artless and loose, sliding and rolling and thrusting without any reason. It’s wild, brutal strokes that have you drooling around his finger. 
“C’mon, princess. I wanna hear you.”
He doesn’t slip his thumb out. You speak around his digit, drooling and slurring, incoherent. “Pleashe, pleashe, pleashe, Daddy, let me come. I want to come. I’ve been so good, I’ve— fuck, I’ve needed it for so long. Just—” You cry, shaking your head. “You’re so fucking deep in me.”
You take his hand away from your jaw, feeling spit drip down your chin as you spread it over your belly instead. “Fucking love you inside of me. Where you belong,” you moan. 
“Fuck, yeah.” He pushes on your stomach, making you feel his cock sliding into you. Your mind rolls inside your skull, drunk. “Made for this cunt.”
“Made to make me come.” He nods again eagerly. Your hips stutter, exhausted. “Please, then,” you say, hopeful. “Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplea—”
“Come for me, princess.”
“Ah—” You convulse, dropping on his chest, a scream drowning in his shoulder as your climax hits you in one drowning wave. Ecstasy sparks under your skill, overwhelming. 
Matty holds you in place with one soothing hand on your spine. Ruthlessly, he continues to fuck up into you, riding the end of your mindnumbing orgasm. “Fuck, I got you. Ride it out, princess. Ride it out on my cock. That’s it— Shit, I can fucking feel you.” 
Your fingertips buzz pleasantly, and there’s the distant shape of his words in your ear. You grin, loose and happy, heart filling up with his name. “D’you feel good?” He asks, kissing your cheek. You nod, humming. “Yeah? Came so hard for me?”
“Yeah.” You moan, his cock still thrusting inside of you slowly, waking you up again. Your legs shake. You tilt your hips slowly, ever so slightly rolling them. Matty grins against your cheek, kissing it again and again. 
He caresses your back, soothing away all those leftover shivers. “So fucking pretty when you come,” he promises. “The best girl. My best girl.” He grips your back, choking out, “Can you turn around for me?” 
You whine, tired, but still straighten up on his lap. You hoist up with great efforts, turning around with shaky knees. He coos some congratulations, hooking an arm around your belly and laying you back up on his chest. You practically melt on it, back against his stomach, head tucked in the crook of his neck. Each thigh hangs from his knees and he spreads you wide open for him again. 
“Don’t have to do anything, baby,” he breathes out, snaking a hand down your body to grab his still hard cock. “Let Daddy take care of you.” You groan, nodding in agreement. He likes himself up with your dripping entrance, then slides into you. 
He allows you a single slow thrust to get used to the stretch again, then wastes no time mercilessly ramming inside of you. You grip the arm around your waist, digging your nails into his tattoos, barely holding on from the brutal pace between your thighs. You mumble a strange mix of his name and the word Daddy, blurring out of you with all those pathetic sounds you shamelessly let out. 
You can tell he’s close too, chasing his pleasure with abandon, practically using you to get off. The knowledge makes burning heat spread through your lower belly. You throb around him, wanting him to come, to fill you up. Wanting him to feel as good as he makes you. 
Matty smirks against your cheek. “Oh, are you gonna come again?” His hips snap quickly, taunting. You stutter a response, biting down a scream. “What’s that? Can’t hear you when you mumble.”
“Shit,” is all you manage to say, already feeling pleasure grow inside of you again. He’s delighted to find this, grabbing a pebbled breast and playing with it. “I— Fucking, I’m—”
He hums, licking your neck. “Does Daddy’s cock make you forget how to speak?” You tremble in his arms, hot shame filling up your mind, a strange, sinful heat that has you yelling out absurdities. Matty’s relentless between your thighs, knowing exactly how to prove his point. 
His knees fall further on the bed, spreading your thighs wide open for him. He snakes a hand to your clit, rubbing at it with his palm. You jump in his arms, shaking your head. “Can’t—” It’s too much, too soon. You feel the edges of you unspool, unwind. 
“Can’t what?” He teases, merciless. “Can’t think? It’s okay, baby. Just lay there and take it. I’ll do the rest.” 
You practically buzz, incapable of taking in the pleasure that he’s already fucking and rubbing some more out of you. You choke, giving him some empty pleas, unsure of what exactly you’re even asking for.
“My dumb little slut,” he coos, kissing your cheek. “Fucked all stupid, as she should be.”
He dips his head in your neck, nipping and licking at the skin, peppering it with sweet love. It drowns your mind, makes it sticky and happy. You claw at his arm, desperate. 
Matty’s legs shake under you. You know he’s growing tired too, ready to burst anytime. The knowledge pokes at your mind, hot and eager. You grind on his palm. 
“Come in me,” you beg. You’ve completely relinquished the control of your tongue. “I’m on the pill now. Please.” Matty twitches inside of you. 
“Fuck,” he groans in your neck, choked. “That right? Got on the pill specifically for me?”
You did, searching up doctors and prescriptions, belly humming with the idea of him not pulling out this time. “Yes.”
His hand leaves your breast, climbing up to your neck. You throb around him, reveling in his presence around your throat, the silent mark that he owns you. “Needed me to fill you up that fucking bad? To have my cum dripping out of you.” 
“Yes,” you scream, wrinkling your face. 
“Gonna come for me first, though, right? Be my good little girl and come.” Though the words trigger something in you, you shake your head stubbornly. You’re almost afraid of letting go, as though the building euphoria inside of you could crush you to death, could blow your skin off your bones. It’s safer here, just on the edge of the fatal. 
His cock slams into you and his hand presses into your clit, driving you wilder and wilder. You choke a scream, feeling your limbs tighten in apprehension. You’re there, just there, and still you refuse. 
All the sensations are too much. You call his name, the only word you seem to know. Pressure presses against your skin, threatening to burst. You feel yourself begin to cry. 
Matty shushes you soothingly. “Oh, princess,” he says, kissing away your tears. “Shhh. It’s okay. I’m right there. I’ll catch you.” 
You pout, shaking your head, sobbing from pleasure. It’s a useless fight; Matty presses into the sides of your throat and suddenly the world catches on fire. You’re flying into orbit, imploding with ecstasy, screaming his name and all the curse words you know in worship. 
“Did so well,” Matty screams. “Fuck. Look at you coming all over my cock. What a good girl.” He releases your neck just when you come down from your high, shooting you up in another rush of pleasure. You moan, melting on him. “Gonna fill you up, now,” he warns. His words sound desperate, stretched thin. “Gonna come so deep inside of you, you’ll feel me for days. D’you want that?” 
“Yes!” 
His hips stutter. He twitches inside of you. “Say it— Shit.”
“Fill me up, Daddy!” 
“Ah, fucking hell—” He comes inside of you with a cry of your name, shaking under you. He groans, shaking, washed with pleasure. He continues fucking into you mindlessly, slower and slower, until he’s stopped, panting. His hold on you is murderous; it’s like he’s afraid you’ll slip away from him in his most vulnerable state. 
You watch him, observe his solemn face as he lingers in ecstasy, eyes shut and smile wide. Your chest warms, a grin teasing your own lips. Sweat and tears and drool dries on your face.
Matty softens inside of you. His cock slips out, cum spilling out of you. You moan at the feeling, getting on your elbows to watch the spectacle. Still laying down and catching his breath, Matty plunges two fingers inside of you, pushing his cum back in your cunt just so you can watch it fall again. You shiver, falling back on him with a sigh. 
“God,” he says. “I’m too old to fuck in twin beds.” You laugh in surprise and he snickers with you, his chest drumming against you. “You’re rich. Why don’t you have a king sized bed and feather pillows or some shit?” 
“I’m sensible,” you say, sticking your tongue out. You roll to your belly beside him, finally letting him take a full breath. He stretches on your mattress, taking up almost all the space. It’s a little ridiculous, this man in your childhood bed. 
You smirk, traveling down his chest and stopping near his soft cock. You lick the length, sucking him into your mouth to clean the mix of your wetness and his cum. He jumps, sitting up to push you anyway. “Fucking— Do you want to kill me?”
You laugh, falling back on the pillows, cheeky. “See? Not so easy.” 
“Well, you’re young and healthy. I expect more of you.” Matty opens his arm, inviting you to tuck your head in his shoulder. Your arm drapes over his chest, halfway across his tattoo. “When’s your dad gonna be back?” He yawns.
“I don’t know,” you admit. It’s always up in the air; often, you don’t know he even came back until you wake up to the strong smell of Ethiopian coffee and the ghost of him in the flat. You shrug, “You could always sneak out if he’s there in the morning.”
Matty rubs his face. “Ugh, I feel like a teenager.” 
You rest your chin on his shoulder, teasing, “Shouldn’t fuck such a young, innocent girl, then.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Innocent? You’ve seen the things you’ve done on my dick?”
“Shut up.” Quieter, you mumble, “I don’t think Mr. Snuffles’s ever gonna be able to unhear tonight.” His laughs rocks you, resonating against you. You grin on his skin. 
You nuzzle further into his warmth, exhaustion settling in your bones. His arm warms your waist, pulling you further into him. You know you need to clean yourself up soon, but you allow yourself a short moment to relish the shape of him. 
He tugs you out of sleep by piping up, voice sticky-tired, “If you want, I know the best fucking scallop place in town. We could go tomorrow.”
Halfway asleep, you say, “I’d like that.”
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