#rare side of matty

[darlingdesire]

STARGAZING

Matty and Y/N are hella drunk and almost have an existential crisis talking about the stars.

Matty and Y/N were enjoying a perfect summer night, lying on a soft blanket in the grass, surrounded by nature. They were sipping on champagne, feeling a little tipsy, and sharing in the joy of each other's company. As the night sky twinkled above them, they were lost in their own world, holding hands and staring up at the stars.

As the champagne bottle emptied, Matty and Y/N found themselves feeling giddy and playful. They couldn't help but giggle at each other's jokes and silly remarks, and their touches became more affectionate and intimate. Y/N snuggled up to Matty, tracing patterns on his chest with her fingertips, and Matty wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and tight.

"Look at that star," Y/N said, pointing to a bright, twinkling light in the sky. "I bet it's wishing it could be as beautiful as me."

"I think that star looks pretty jealous of you, Y/N," Matty teased, his words slurring slightly. "It's like it's trying to compete with your beauty, but it can't even come close."

Y/N laughed, feeling her heart swell with affection for him. "Well, I don't know about that," she replied, teasingly. "I think that star is doing a pretty good job of shining tonight."

Matty grinned, feeling a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through him. "But you shine brighter than any star," he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

Y/N blushed, feeling a wave of happiness wash over her. "You're such a smooth talker when you're drunk," she said, playfully.

Matty chuckled. "Maybe I should drink more often," he replied, grinning.

Y/N laughed, feeling a little lightheaded from the champagne. "I don't know if that's a good idea," she said, teasingly. "You might get too smooth for your own good."

Matty took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled a cloud of smoke into the night air. He offered it to Y/N, who took it and inhaled deeply, feeling the smoke fill her lungs.

As they lay there, passing the cigarette between them, they talked and laughed, feeling their inhibitions slip away with each passing moment.

"You know, I feel like I could stay here forever," Y/N said, her voice soft and dreamy.

Matty nodded, feeling a sense of peace wash over him. "Me too," he replied, exhaling another cloud of smoke. "It's like nothing else matters when I'm with you."

Y/N smiled, feeling her heart swell with affection for him. "I feel the same way," she replied, passing the cigarette back to him.

As they continued to share the cigarette, they talked about their future together, their hopes, and their dreams. They spoke about the little things that brought them joy, and the moments that they would cherish forever.

"I never want to lose this feeling," Matty said, his voice soft and sincere.

Y/N nodded, feeling a sense of contentment wash over her. "Me neither," she replied, leaning in to give him a gentle kiss.

Y/N took another drag from the cigarette and exhaled, watching as the smoke mingled with the stars above. "You know what's so weird?" she said, her voice slightly slurred. "How the stars are just... there. Twinkling away in the sky like it's no big deal."

Matty chuckled, feeling a little tipsy himself. "I know, right? It's like they're just showing off or something," he replied, grinning.

Y/N laughed, feeling a sense of wonder wash over her. "But it's amazing, isn't it? All of those stars, up there in the sky, just twinkling away like they've got nothing better to do."

Matty nodded, feeling a sense of awe wash over him. "It really is incredible," he said, taking another drag from the cigarette.

Matty took the cigarette from Y/N and inhaled deeply, feeling the smoke fill his lungs. As he exhaled, he gazed up at the stars and then back at Y/N.

"You know what's even weirder?" he said, his voice slightly slurred. "We're not just looking up at the stars, we're also lying on a giant rock called Earth, and that rock is just floating in the middle of nothing."

Y/N blinked, feeling a sense of surrealism wash over her. "Oh my god, you're right," she said, feeling slightly dizzy.

Matty chuckled, feeling a little lightheaded himself. "It's crazy when you really think about it. We're just two tiny specks on this giant rock, floating through space."

Y/N shook her head, feeling a sense of amazement wash over her. "It's insane," she said, passing the cigarette back to him.

Matty took the cigarette from Y/N and inhaled deeply, feeling a sense of calm wash over him. As he exhaled, he gazed up at the stars, lost in thought.

Y/N noticed his quietness and turned to face him. "What are you thinking about?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Matty turned to her and smiled softly. "Just how much I love you," he said, his words slightly slurred from the alcohol.

Y/N's heart fluttered at his words and she snuggled closer to him, feeling his warmth against her skin. "I love you too," she whispered, feeling content and happy.

Matty took another drag from the cigarette and blew out the smoke in a perfect circle. Y/N watched the smoke ring float up towards the stars and chuckled.

"You know, if you blow enough of those, we might just attract a UFO," she joked.

Matty grinned, feeling his cheeks flush from the alcohol. "Maybe they'll take us away to their planet," he said, teasingly.

Y/N laughed and poked him in the side. "And leave all our problems behind?"

Matty shook his head. "No way. I need to take my clothes off before I can teleport."

Y/N giggled, feeling lightheaded from the champagne. "I think you've had enough to drink, Matty."

Matty shrugged and took another swig from the bottle. "But I haven't had enough of you," he said, leaning in for a kiss but then playfully pounced on Y/N, tackling her onto the blanket. Y/N giggled, feeling his weight on top of her and his lips on her neck.

"Matty!" she squealed, squirming beneath him. "What are you doing?"

Matty nibbled on her skin, pretending to attack her. "I'm attacking you, obviously," he said, grinning.

Y/N squirmed and laughed, feeling ticklish all over. "Stop it, stop it!" she protested, but she was still giggling.

Matty lifted his head from Y/N's neck and looked at her, her laughter still ringing in his ears. He smiled, feeling a rush of affection for her.

As Matty looked down at Y/N, watching her laugh and squirm under his playful attack, he felt a wave of warmth and tenderness wash over him. He had always known he loved her, but in that moment, it was as if the realization hit him anew, taking his breath away.

"Kiss me," he whispered softly, his eyes fixed on hers.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she looked into Matty's eyes. She could see the love and desire in them, and it made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Without hesitation, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his, tasting the sweetness of the champagne on his tongue. Matty wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and deepening the kiss.

They lay there, lost in the moment, their bodies entwined and their hearts beating as one. Y/N felt a sense of completeness wash over her, as if she had found her missing puzzle piece.

With the stars still shining above them, they shared a kiss that was soft, sweet, and full of love.

[lottiecrabie]

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

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

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

part two of two

18,294 words

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

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

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

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

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

“Ar-ar. You’re hilarious.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is wrong with you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!”

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

“‘Course.” 

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

“No way. Is my score still on it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Take two shots. It’ll be back.” 

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

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

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

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

“Well, I’m quite drunk.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, obviously—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s okay,” you say tightly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I not allowed to laugh?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No one can get you off.”

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

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

“No one, Matty. Only you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, but—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Taste much better, sweetheart,” he breathes.

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

“Let this be a lesson, princess.”

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

Your lips don’t even twitch. “Okay.” 

Veronica gives you an expectant look. “Well?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No comments.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hypocrite!”

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shrugs, “Didn’t want to.”

“Are you gonna drive?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” 

“How so?”

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

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

“I’ll earn it,” you say desperately. 

“How?”

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Magic word?”

You scoff. “Coming from you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

Invitation retracted. 

i’m on my way

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Served with what?” 

“Baby spinach and spiced pomegranate glaze.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Matty snorts. “Nerd.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m waiting.”

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

He grins. “Well, which one wins?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good?”

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

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

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

He half-grins. “Yeah.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Matty flips to you, grinning. “No?” 

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

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

“I was very studious.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You need it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wanna ride you,” you breathe out. 

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

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

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

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

“She’s demanding.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t give me ideas.” 

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

“Anything that doesn’t involve you talking.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head fervently. “Only you.” 

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

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

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

“God, Matty.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m gonna—”

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

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

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

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

“C’mon, princess. I wanna hear you.”

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

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

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

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

“Come for me, princess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you scream, wrinkling your face. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!” 

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

“Fill me up, Daddy!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[cinomn]

matty doesn’t like sharing

warnings: mature content. matty x fem!reader. matty cums in girlie. umm idk.

note: neglected this blog and comes back to post crap. reupload from grlplastic (edited version). probably not any better than unedited. i promise i’m working on something i swearrrrr. did i proofread? does this make any sense at all? no.

you watch matty sneer at you from across the table you're sitting next to his best friend who's having the time of his life, teasing adam for god knows what. it’s fuzzy as you look at matty with a silent plead, you know your face is probably retorted into your ugliest most desperate face because he’s holding back a laugh.

it's about half past one in the morning. they've just finished a show in london, it was small something casual. there’s chatter and jokes about it being past adam’s bedtime and about a couple mishaps during the concert. matty wasn't happy with you, he claims you like george. just before heading on stage matty finds you fixing and tugging at george’s button up making sure he looks presentable which according to matty he already did. even if it was true that you liked his friend you'd never admit it, you and matty were casual. it didn't matter to you if matty had a million girls in his room to fill an empty bed. you knew if you guys were just casual he wouldn't be punishing you. matty had given you the silent treatment with looks here and there before, during and after finding you and george. he claims it wasn’t the way you fixed george’s button up but the way he looked down at you like ‘you were the greatest fuckin’ thing to grace the planet’. you pushed and pulled at matty until he finally found out a way you could make it up to him.

he placed the object in your hands expecting you to completely ignore him, protest and throw it back at him — but you didn't. you slipped it in obeying him. matty liked the power he had over you, he knew you couldn't live without him. you rarely took interest in other guys, he knew you were his. he knew deep down inside you didn't want him to ever get mad at you.

"are you okay, why aren't you talking?" george places a card down, letting ross take his turn. "you look sick, are you alright?" george’s questions cloud your brain as he places a hand on your thigh giving it a quick squeeze. you feel your face heat up crimson dancing on your cheeks, along your whole body. you look at matty who's reaching into his pocket for something. the vibrating bud inside of you, only vibrated slowly, it was never intense until now. you look at matty who's seconds away from letting out a laugh. george rubs your thigh, concerned "let's go take your temperature, yeah?" he says, placing a hand on your forehead. matty butts in, "i think she's fine," he says smugly looking your way while taking some cards from the deck. the only thing you could do was nod afraid of slipping up.

"your turn george," says adam taking note of your clenching legs with your fidgety feet rubbing against each other then shaking profusely the next second. george slowly returns to the game, rubbing your back to distract yourself from whatever is bothering you. the vibrations soon slow down, causing relief to wash over you. the fear of an orgasm, or the slick of your heat coming out from between your legs onto your seat all seemed to be real possibilities about a second ago. after waves of intense to slow vibrations from the bud inside you it finally stops. you to let out a tired sigh resting your head on george’s shoulder. he smiles sweetly looking down at you once again like you’re ‘the greatest fuckin’ thing to grace the planet’ he snakes an arm around your waist pulling you closer into his body.

"i think someone should take her to bed, or run her a cold bath she's been heating up,” george says, getting up from his seat slowly wrapping his arms around you to move to your bedroom. "i'll take her, matty jumps out of his seat running to your side, snatching you from george. "are you sure, matty?" adam takes a sip of his beer taking a look at matty’s deck. "i'm sure,” matty growls, forcing you onto your feet, "walk," he demands into your ear. you tremble like a fawn, letting your knees buckle.

matty offers some support but he's mostly dragging you out of the room. you two hastily walk down the hallway as matty whispers in your ear. "you're lucky i didn't embarrass you in front of them, you know that?" he nips into your neck opening the door to your room all too loudly. the guys take a look at the two of you from where they sit on the opposite side of the hallway shooting each other all kinds of looks, shrugging.

"i could've let you come in your shorts, right there" he throws you onto your bed as you hear the door slam shut. the smell of his scent fills your nose as you lay on his bed fucked out from what’s been torturing your insides. "i wasn't that mean to you, hm?" matty sneers, pulling your shorts off. he moves to your top, a lacey babydoll top the material almost identical to the material of george’s button up. you sit up attempting to cover yourself, you felt exposed, you were in your underwear. sure matty’s seen you in this state many times but this time was all too embarrassing for you to take, matty was still fully dressed black and dark greys covering him looking at you with flickering eyes. you can't help but think this is matty’s way of humiliating you.

he gets on his knees below you prying your legs open. he pulls off your underwear, a light pink panty that’s lined with lace patterns and flowers. “were gonna wear these for my best mate, yeah?” he breathes, shoving them into his pocket. before retrieving the toy, he rubs your swollen clit with his thumb. you whine as you try to shut your legs. matty tuts, “don’t” he watches you pridefully prying them back open, knowingly. "does it hurt, baby?" he coos opening your folds exposing yourself once again.

he inserts fingers into you retrieving the toy in a swift movement. you whine at the new feeling, vacant. his cold fingers leave a trace of him inside you as you hiss when the toy finally leaves. he stands up leaving you trembling as he throws the toy on your littered floor unbuckling his belt letting his pants and briefs drop to the floor stepping out of them.

matty watches your eyes light up at the sight of his cock. he steps closer to you as you try to reach out for his cock, he pushes you back onto the mattress harshly. you fall back with a gasp as matty is pulling your bottom half closer to him. he wastes no time pushing into you, the slick of your cunt squeezes him as he hisses trying to push into you. you’re so fucked out, whining incoherently as the sweet release bubbles in your stomach matty stops all together trying his best to keep you on the brink. he holds your hips in place when you get squirmy meanly biting your neck.

"no one's gonna fuck you better than i am," he tsks snaking a hand down to pinch at your clit. you whine pushing him away from you almost kicking him away. he persists “does george fuck you like i do?” he’s painfully dragging his cock in and out of you letting it slip out almost everytime knowing you hate the feeling of being empty. “how many times have you thought of him while i fuck you?” you shake your head over and over.

you're in tears by now babbling, begging matty to let you come. matty’s awfully silent now only making this unbearable. he's getting sloppier with every thrust and you know he's about to come. his hips buck in and out of you quickly as he chases his release. matty slaps your creeping hand away from your clit, you cry out desperately needing to touch yourself. “my cock isn’t enough for you?” matty says choking back a groan “need your fingers too? that’s pathetic,” his hips jerk into you as you squirm. you whine clenching around matty. he hasn’t even taken off your bra, he hasn’t kissed you since the last time you guys did it.

you cry begging to touch your clit, and matty scoffs. “fuckin’ whores don’t get to,” he says your stomach clenches, you can feel your core tighten ready to burst open with matty still drilling into you. finally matty comes inside you, his cum spilling out of you as he stutters still pumping himself into you.

you gasp trying to push him off as he looks at you. he slowly pulls out of you with a satisfied groan watching himself drip from your opening.

he pushes his fingers into you, making sure his cum never leaves you. “want me to call george? see what a mess you’re making” he teases again, despite filling you up he’s still mentioning you and george. “no matty please,” you cry out as he starts to curl his fingers inside you. “she speaks,” he mocks breathing onto your thigh. his fingers are wet, profusely pushing into you burrying his cum inside you. “no even sure you deserve to have me inside you,” hes unamused. you watch him finger you, feeling embarrassed. “gonna come or not?” he growls, giving your cunt a slap. you yelp, shaking your head. “need george in here? to fuck you better, hm?” he gasps out towering above you. you whine weakly, lifting your hips off the bed. “so ungrateful,” he says, pushing your hips down “rutting up against my hand like a bitch in heat, it’s a shame” your head spins at matty’s words.

he lines himself up against you, slowly pushing inside. listening to the gush of his cum in your cunt, matty let’s out a groan settling inside you again. you clench around him, pawing at your own tits. he watches you play with yourself pulling your breasts out of their holding place. “save it,” he spits out, starting a pace. you cry out an apology and matty stares at you hissing. “you’re really sorry?” he drills into you profusely as you nod. he shoves a thumb into your mouth as you suck intently. he reaches over to your swollen, neglected clit, rubbing gently.

you moan matty’s name, and curse profusely. matty’s hand against your hips keeps you grounded as you squirm. “fuck, i’m gonna come again” matty groans out. his eyes are almost lidded shut, “take me, sweet thing” he chokes out with a few bucks spilling into you again. he’s draped over you as he pulls out quickly. you’re a mess, squeezing matty’s arm pleading once again to come. matty’s breathless as he swipes at his cum in your cunt rubbing it into your clit. you squirm and kick, matty refuses to let your hip go as you babble his name. your eyes shut, and you come onto matty’s fingers. you’re shaking, still splayed out on the bed.

matty sticks his fingers in your mouth, you taste a mix of your fluids as he takes his fingers back with a pop. he leans down to kiss your forehead, “my sweet girl, i’m sorry i was so mean” he pets your hair kissing the top of your head again. “don’t do it again, okay?” he whispers to you as if it’s a secret, and you nod chewing at your lips.

[abouttofillhisshoes]

Do you wanna dance? - Matty Healy

A/N: i couldn't help myself, these two deserve to be happy forever and ever xx

this is a part two to this request i did earlier, but can also be read separately!!

wc: 3k

content warnings: mentions of drugs (weed), cursing, typical MPIND banter, kissing, a touch suggestive?

May, 2009 

“I’m so fucking boreddd, kill me now.” you drag your feet on the ground, letting yourself be pulled along by Matty, his hand tightly clasped against yours. He rolls his eyes, begging you to walk properly, and that you would find something to do soon. 

“Carolines?” he suggests, pointing in the general direction of the old paper factory, it being maybe a 25 minutes walk from where you were currently at. You raise your eyebrows at him, a skeptical look on your face. “Really?” you ask, whining about how your feet hurt and you didn't want to walk any further.

“Pretty please, I promise I'll make it worth your while.” he lowers his voice, winking at you cheekily. A groan leaves your lips, and you shove him off to the side, taking a swig from a freshly opened bottle of cheap tesco wine. 

“I’d do alot for you,” you burp, making Mattys face scrunch up in disgust “but i am not shagging you on a terrace, not a chance in fuck.” he laughs like music to your ears, a gross snort slipping out.

You suggest calling your other mates, inviting them for a few drinks on the balcony, just like old times. That small platform just off the main office held dear memories, good and bad. Matty immediately shakes his head, bringing your hand away from the phone in your pocket. “Just you and me, no one else.” He sounds different, you couldn't quite place it. 

“Carry me.” you joke, pressing a dramatic hand to your forehead. Imagine your surprise when you feel a firm hand press against your back, and another wrap around the back of your knees, hauling you up. Your hip hits the bare skin on Mattys chest, another ‘stylistic’ choice of his, only being covered in a thin, see through black shirt. 

“Jesus, fuck, let me down!!” you scream, attempting to push him away. 

All he does is giggle at your struggle, only pulling you closer, planting a sweet kiss on your lips. 

“D’you think I'm too weak to carry you?” you huff, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“I’m too heavy, you’ll proper hurt yourself-” he laughs again, almost in disbelief. “Oh, come off it, I'm pretty strong, you know!” you roll your eyes, shooting him a worried look. He nods, leaning in to give you what you think is another kiss.

Instead, he fucking licks across your face, making you squirm away at the odd feeling. 

“Perv.” you spit, turning your head away from him. He nuzzles his face into your freshly curled hair, humming contentedly as he starts walking down the sidewalk. You notice him adjusting his hands a few times, trying to get a better grip, so you ask to be let down. He refuses, like he’s trying to prove something to someone. It was no use, he was going to see this through, apparently. 

It was wet, the rain from a few hours prior making everything smell like damp concrete. It was barely sunset, the sky painted several shades of blue, purple and orange, clouds sparsely littering the sky. Trees were finally starting to green again, and the warm air kissed your skin, warning you of the hot summer to come. It was late May, breezy and comfortable, even if it was pissing it down most of the time, you didn't mind it, rarely getting sick anyway. 

The back entrance was covered by stacks of cardboard, soggy and flimsy from the rain. Matty tries to set you down gracefully onto a rock nearby, miserably failing as when trips over his own feet, sending you both flying down onto the soft, grassy ground. 

Laughing at the stumble, he kisses you while you're still under him, gripping your cheeks between his fingertips. The moment doesn't last long, wet dirt sullying the back of your shirt, making you whine like a small child. He reluctantly rolls off you, offering a hand to help you stand. Wobbly on your very impractical heels, Matty takes a jab at your choice of footwear.

“Who wears heels to go walk around? You've got fucking ankles of steel or something, thats mad.” he laughs, gesturing at your red platforms, thin straps the only thing keeping them attached to your feet. 

“They’re platforms.” you correct him “You’d know that, if you knew anything ever. Fuck you, you’re just jealous i’m taller now.” It was true, you towered slightly over him, even if only a few inches, it gave you a sense of power. 

Twirling your hair around your fingers, you let Matty lead you up the stairs, hand firmly gripping your wrist. His nails were painted black to match, though they were significantly more chipped than yours, the nail polish peeling off in chunks. 

Still, you found it endearing how he always wanted to use the things you did, whether it be makeup, clothes, even colors. What was yours was his, and what was his was yours, evident au cause de the blue top you were wearing. The stupid tourist shirt, his prized possession. 

The wind had died down a bit by the time you reached the smashed glass door leading to the terrace. Ross had managed to fall through it one night, absolutely wrecked off half a bottle of tito’s, no mixer. The four of you spent hours afterwards trying to pick small shards of glass out of a blacked out Ross, utterly convinced he was dying of alcohol poisoning. Fucking drama queen. 

Orange light floods the terrace, painting the worn down sofa in a warm hue. Matty smirks slightly as he plops down onto it, patting the space beside him, asking a silent question. You smile, the sight of him making your heart swell up with love. God, he looked beautiful, it was almost too much. Thicker chunks of his hair were now dyed blonde, streaks of pink peeking through. Impulse decision, though a good one, the bit of color really suited him.

“You got any?” he asks, tucking both his hands behind his head, spreading his legs, his shirt riding up slightly. A suggestion. 

“What do you take me for?” you giggle, already pulling out your weed. He never brought his own, insisting that if you wanted to roll them yourself, you’d also buy it. His logic was deeply flawed, but honestly, you loved him too much to tell him. 

Rolling the spliff, flashes of memories flip through your mind, you hear Hann’s voice. 

‘Girls don't roll their own spliffs’ God, he was such a dickhead.

“Girls don’t roll their own spliffs.” you giggle, grinning at Matty as you lick it closed, admiring your work. George had given you a few tips, and you’d actually gotten better. Mattys angelic laugh fills your ears, bouncing off the concrete walls. 

“Fuck yeah, I'm your girl.” he says proudly, brushing tangled curls out of his face, slightly more tan than usual, the sun having branded his fair skin. Your eyes roll of their own accord, and you nudge him with your elbow, muttering quietly. 

“Shut up mate, honestly.” he lets out a dramatic gasp at your words, pressing a hand to his chest is faux shock. 

“Do mates do this?” You jump as he snatches the spliff out of your hand, grabbing your face just like he did on the grass before, pressing a hot kiss right beside your mouth, just missing it. Biting back a moan, you feel his tongue slip past your lips, running across your own. 

“Okay, fuck off now, thanks.” you smile, unable to stop yourself. Not when he looked at you with such joy, eyes glimmering in the warm light. 

He hands the joint back to you, your hands brushing against each other. It felt loving, purposeful, real.

Grabbing the lighter from your right pocket, you run your fingers across the worn rhinestone, fondly remembering the day he’d made it for you.

The way he was reluctant at first, only giving in after you physically dragged him through the doors of the hobby shop, forcing him to pick out decorations. His concentrated expression as he tried to pick off the cheap stones, having to let you help him do it after numerous failed attempts. It was one of your favorite days with him, wishing you could relive it a thousand times over.  

Laying back, you hold it in front of you, rotating it over the flame to get an even burn. The smell flooding your senses, you close your eyes, bringing the spliff to your lips. Inhaling deeply, you feel Matty shuffle next to you, shifting and making the sofa creak under him. You try to ignore it, keeping your eyes shut as you feel the drug hit your system, a warm, weightless sensation enveloping you. It was when he moved for the third time that you snapped your eyes open, going to complain.

“Christ, will you stop moving around like tha-” your words get caught in your throat, dying out. 

He wasn't in the spot next to you anymore. No, he was on the floor. On the floor, on one knee, holding a small, red velvet box in his right hand. Your breath hitches as you notice the expression on his face. Anxiety. You could speak, hell, you could barely fucking think. Matty was in front of you, kneeling, holding a white diamond that was shimmering in the light, like a goddamn dream. 

You watch as he opens his mouth to speak several times, closing it before any sound comes out. His eyes fill with panic as you sit up, eyes wide in shock. He was proposing. Properly proposing, with a ring and everything, down on one knee. You’re convinced this is a dream, of a fucking hallucination, something more believable than what was actually happening in front os you. 

“Marry me?” he forces out, hand slightly shaking as you look him up and down, mouth completely dry. You felt tears stream down your face. Obviously, with Matty not being able to read your mind, his eyes dart around your features, trying to gauge what your reaction meant. 

“Holy shit, what the fuck is wrong with you.” are the first words you say, hands coming up to shield your face. The panic only grew as he tries to speak, only things coming out being bits of words and ‘sorry’. 

Shaking your head violently, you reach out your hand, presenting your ring finger. Tears well up in Mattys own eyes, dangerously close to rolling down his puffy cheeks. 

“Yes, oh my god, I fucking love you so much.” you scream, bouncing off your spot on the sofa, lunging towards a very emotional Matty. You catch his lips in a kiss, wrapping your arms around him tightly, not daring to let go 

“Really? You’ll marry me?” he says in genuine disbelief, his left hand gripping your lower back, pulling you close.

“Of course i’ll marry you Matty, christ.” he pushes you away, giddily slipping the silver ring onto your ring finger, planting a soft kiss to the metal. 

“Fucking hell that is a boulder.” you look at the diamond in awe, the stone basically blinding you. He grins from ear to ear, grabbing the fabric of your top, kissing you softly, a gentle warmth spreading throughout your body as your lips make contact. 

“Only the best for my wife.” giggles leave his lips, delirious and ecstatic, disbelief still evident in the way his eyes rake over you, settling on the ring. Pressing a hand to your cheeks, he thumbs the tears away, kissing all over your face. Your heart thrums against your ribcage, threatening to burst out of your chest. 

“Bit early, innit?” you comment, sucking in a deep breath, eyes glued to Mattys. You're both on your knees, concrete digging into the skin of your legs. It was cold, uncomfortable, but you truly couldn't care less.   

“Never too early, Mrs. Healy” he smirks in that cheeky way of his, both hands settling onto your shoulder, rubbing small shapes into your skin. The moment doesn't feel real, nothing does. You hope to god that this isn't a dream, that that this was really happening. 

“Can Hann be the flower girl?” your inability to be serious for five fucking seconds shines through, the both of you falling into each others arms, uncontrollably laughing. Mattys eyes crease as he giggles, the feel of his hands on your body is heavenly, l of his hands touching your skin makes you truly believe you've reached a higher plane of existence. 

“Only if he wears the dress.” 

“Deal.” you say, knowing well that getting Adam Hann into a dress would require months of begging, maybe even bribery. You would probably need to buy him a fucking house to get him to even consider it. 

More laughter, more kissing, more planning a future neither of you had ever actually thought possible. A future with each other. 

Matty fumbles around in his pockets, pulling out his Ipod, initials erratically scratched into the metal. You raise your eyebrows at him, asking a silent question of ‘what the fuck?’

“Do you wanna dance?” he asks, smirking at you as he swiftly stands up, extending his hand. This is so incredibly cliché, and you know that yourself, but you can't bring yourself to care. 

His fingers press one earphone into your ear, before doing the same to his own. He smiles sweetly, expression softening. This was true, raw, unbridled love. 

“Can I choose the song?” you ask, fingers trailing down Mattys jaw as he settles his hands onto your waist. Nodding, he hands you the Ipod, letting you select whatever you wanted. 

“I love you so much, my darling girl.” he mumbled into your hair, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers down your spine. 

“Stop being such a sap,” you laugh, quickly adding a “I love you too.” as to not offend him. As if he would be offended. 

Suffragette City blared through the headphones, the music filling every corner of your being. Your hips swayed, and so did his, guiding you lightly with the hands gripping you tightly. 

You didn't speak, letting Matty spin and twirl you around, breaking out into fits of laughter when you almost tripped over your ridiculous heels. Fuck, they were really a bad idea. 

Stopping for a second, you reach down to unclasp your shoes, kicking them off without a second thought. 

“Already taking your clothes off? We haven't even said our vows yet-” he teases, being met with a sharp look and a hand threaded into his hair, pulling him into a deep kiss. 

“Don't ruin the moment, you wanker.” you mutter against his lips, licking into his mouth as you let him take back control of your movements. 

You don't know how long you dance for, but by the time the two of you finally come up for air, the sun had almost completely disappeared behind the tall buildings of the city. 

Your life together flashes through your mind. That very first kiss. That night in The Sound. Ruby. The drugs. The lighter, smashed into little bits. Your fight with the guys. The night he had called you, shaking and crying, scared. The photos. The sight of him, down on one knee.  

This was it. Everything that had happened; every mistake, every fight, every passionate kiss, every gasp of pleasure when skin met skin, every tear shed since that night at the bus stop had been leading up to this final moment. 

You and Matty, 

Matty and you 

Forever.

Properly this time 

The music faded, the sound of rainfall pattering loudly against the metal roof replaced it. 

A Suffragette City, A Suffragette City

Quite all right

A Suffragette City

Too fine

A Suffragette City, ooh, A Suffragette City

Oh, my Suffragette City, oh my Suffragette City

Ah, Suffragette

Suffragette!

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| Stray ||

Gif by @briefcasejuice - full set here

Matt Murdock x gender neutral reader

Tags/warnings: fluff.

He enters through the living room window, careful to avoid knocking over the array of knick-knacks perched on the windowsill. He has a key of course but he just prefers this way. He knew from blocks away that you were deep in sleep, a smile hooking up his lip when he could hear your little snorts and snores.

His body is remarkably free of hurt and bereft of bruising for once, it had been a rare quiet night. He slides both his mask and shirt off, sitting on the edge of your couch to unlace his boots. He strips down to his black silk shorts, moving quietly on his bare feet as he pads into your kitchen to the fridge. He opens it, feeling along the containers on the shelves. Sure enough he finds there's a braille label that reads 'Matt' on one. He takes out the container, placing it on the counter and opening the lid a crack to investigate its contents. Tomato, garlic, basil, olives and oregano fill his nose before he puts it into the microwave for a few minutes to heat it up. You'd always leave some dinner for him if you thought he'd be out late and he loved you for it. Your pasta was the best.

He sits at the table eating straight out of the tub, more famished after patrol than he realised. He'll wash everything up in the morning but he walks around your apartment picking up and folding your hoodie over the back of the couch and tidying away some other detritus, putting his own clothes in a neat pile before heading to the bathroom to quickly wash and brush his teeth. You always left everything where he can easily find it, including a pack of Tylenol just in case.

When he slides into your bed he smiles softly as your arms immediately seek him out, wrapping around him as you snuggle your warmth into his cooler skin to equilibrate. You reply with a small hum when he kisses your forehead gratefully.

"Thanks for dinner sweetie." He whispers, and you mumble something half incoherent about lizards and he has to really stop himself from laughing at you.

Your fingers sleepily find his and he gently squeezes your hand, kissing the top of your head again.

"You're like a stray." He hears you murmuring into his arm.

"Hm?"

"... someone should adopt you." you continue, and he does let himself chuckle at that.

You feebly shove at his chest, waking up a bit. "M'not joking. Come 'n live with me."

Matt strokes his other hand down your arm, breathing in your sleepy scent. It's true that he could get used to this but you were just babbling.

"Shh, go back to sleep."

He can feel the brush of your eyelashes on his skin. "Matt, I wanna wake up every morning with you here like this."

His heart swells with the thought that you'd really want to take him in.

"What's there to talk 'bout? You don't wanna?"

"Let's talk about it in the morning sweetheart." is what he says.

He hears the small measure of hurt in your grizzly voice as you blink open your eyes in the dark. He puts his hand to the side of your face, thumb smoothing over your cheek. Then he captures your lips, slow and soft.

"Yeah I want to." He assures, and you smile and kiss him back.

"Good. S'settled then." And you nuzzle back close against him. "I love you Matty. I'll keep the sill clear."

Okay, his heart was definitely going to burst.

"Love you too, sweetheart. Thank you."

Matt tags: @saintmurd0ck @mindidjarin @castlesnchurches @peterman-spideyparker @pastafossa @mattmurdocksscars @mattmurdockspainkink @marvelswh0re @munsonownsmyass @hellskitchenswhore @pedrito-friskito @sweetieswiftie @briefcasejuice @shedaresthedevil @freshabogados @e-dubbc11 @father4giveme @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @imperfxctly-me @stress--relief @murnsondock @stupidthoughtsinwriting @whistle1whistle @tea-and-wine @emiemiemii @imherefordeanandbones @m0nster-fvcker @creatingjana @echos-muses @lazyxsquirrel @messymissy @evilbubu @chvoswxtch

[kate-inhaler-1975]

Under The Mistletoe 💋// dad!matty x Reader

Twelve days of Christmas - Day 3 ✨️

A/N : Finally doing a Christmas prompt 😭😭. Thank you to the incredible @abiiors for the effort you've put in creating these prompt ideas xx. (BTW, this is a part of the dad!matty universe, which I need to make a masterlist for)

C/W : none!!

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

*Rosie is about a year old in this*

"Just a little bit more to the left please, baby." I tried to direct Matty as he tried his best to perfectly align our stockings along the staircase.

I could hear the light sigh leave his lips and could picture the rolling of his eyes as his arms began to get tired from holding them up for so long.

Rosie, who was sat on my hip, copied her dad's dramatic sigh. Making me roll my own eyes jokingly.

"See what you've done! She's going to be as sassy as you if you aren't careful." I warned him, giving his butt a cheeky slap, making him flip up his middle finger in reply.

"Watch it." I mumbled, lingering beside him as he finally hung Rosie's stocking in the perfect spot beside his own one and mine.

"Ah Ha! Look at that. Perfection!" Matty stumbled down off the small ladder, standing back to admire his work and placing a kiss on top of Rosie's head.

"It's perfect. Thank you, my love." I smiled, leaning towards him so I could place a kiss on his lips.

"Dada" Rosie cooed in awe at Matty. Her pacifier falling out of her mouth and onto the floor, arms wide open for him to take her into his warm embrace.

"Oh, that is my favourite sound in the world! 'Ello, my darlin" Matty was quick to take her out of my arms when I passed her over, rocking her from side to side as her small hands cupped the side of his face.

"Dada! Dada!" She repeated excitedly, slapping her hands against his face.

"Ah! Don't slap, please. Gentle hands" I laughed, rubbing her back softly, her hands returning back to my face.

"You are just the best girl, aren't you! Oh, love, can you go get the camera from upstairs? I want to take pictures of you and Rosie." Matty asked sweetly. His shaking hands that held Rosie close to him catching my eyes immediately.

"Yeah, sure. But, are you alright? Your hands are shaking." I removed Rosie's hands from my face, concern washing over me.

"Huh? I'm fine! Guess it's just the adrenaline of Christmas, I suppose." He shrugged, letting out a chuckle that could only be described as nervous laughter.

"Ehhh, okay. If you say so."

I quickly turned and made my way up the stairs to get the camera from our bedroom.

I could feel Matty's eyes follow my every move until I was out of sight, making me feel slightly nervous.

All I could hear from upstairs was the noises of Rosie fussing and low mumbles coming from Matty as he tried to shush her. The two of them still clearly hanging by the stairs.

The sudden silence in the house didn't go unnoticed to me. Silence in our house was always a complete rarity, but it's especially rare now that we have a one year old.

"Matty! Is everything alright down there!?" I called down to him while rummaging through the top drawer of his bedside table for the camera.

No reply.

"Matty!? Sweetheart!? Is Rosie okay!?" I called louder this time, hoping he'd catch me calling Rosie's name and assume I was asking after her.

But the only thing I got was a loud and guttural screech from Rosie, which was an answer I suppose.

"Ah! Gotcha." I spoke to myself as I came across the retro camera.

"Took me a minute, but I found it." I announced while jogging down the stairs.

I stopped at the bottom step, confused as to where my two loves had gone, but the baby babbling noises coming from the living room reassured me they hadn't suddenly left the house.

"What are you two doing?....oh!" I spoke in surprise, looking at Rosie scooting on her bum across the floor, wearing a Christmas jumper she wasn't wearing when I'd left the room.

"Look at you, my gorgeous girl! Did Daddy put a Christmas jumper on you, huh?" I sat down immediately on the floor right in front of her, my hand gently caressing the top of her head while I stared at her in admiration.

Her big brown eyes looked up into mine, a wide smile showing her two bottom front teeth that were coming in.

I couldn't help but laugh at her gummy smile. Her smile, her eyes, her little rambles and her baby giggles totally intoxicating.

She had me and Matty wrapped around her little finger since day one. She was our special gift all year round.

"Now, should we go see where your daddy has gone off to?" I huffed as I got up off the floor, lifting her up with me and my eyes noticing the words on her jumper.

"Dada! Dada!" She screeched, pointing over my shoulder, but my eyes were fixed on her jumper. Trying to keep her as still as I possibly could so I could put the words together.

"Mummy, will you marry my daddy?" It read.

Oh....OH!

Without turning around, my brain filled with zero thoughts and words unable to leave my mouth, I put Rosie in her little play chair. Quickly strapping her in and planting a kiss on her rosy chubby cheek.

"Matty. If I turn around and you're behind me on one knee I swear to god I'll go feral." I warned, my voice quivering with emotion.

"Just turn around, darling."

So I did, slowly, not believing any of this was real, but there he was. Completely real, and human, on one knee under the mistletoe in the doorway of the double doors that led into the kitchen.

"Matty, I-"

"No, let me speak." He interrupted. Knowing I was about to go into a rant that would make zero sense in my emotional state.

I nodded yes, allowing him to go ahead and speak. My hands clasping over my mouth to shut myself up, tears already streaming down my face.

"Okay....Y/N, I've thought of multiple ways I could've done this. I could've taken you somewhere fancy on a romantic getaway, just the two of us. Or loads of lights and fireworks and candles, but I know you. All those fancy proposals aren't you. So that's why I did it here. Just me, you, and Rosie."

It was like on queue Rosie giggled, her feet kicking like crazy in her little moving seat.

"For the last six years you have given me everything. A life, a home, a beautiful baby. I know I'm not the easiest person to love, I really know that, but somehow you've managed to put up with all of my problem's and make them your own, and that to me is true love. So please, Y/N L/N, will you marry me?"

"Are you being serious? You want to marry me?" I whispered in disbelief. A part of me not being able to comprehend that someone wants to marry me.

Someone wants to be with me forever.

"Why would I joke about this. I've never been so sure of anything in my life."

Matty brought the neck of his jumper up to his face, wiping away the stray tears that streamed down his face.

The ring sat so elegantly in the opened black velvet ring box. The opal diamond, which is Rosie's birthstone, shone beautifully from a mile away.

"Matty....I....oh god." I sobbed happily into my hands. Continuously shaking my head in disbelief.

"You don't have to say yes, we can just forget about it if it isn't what you wa-"

"No! No, no, this is what I want. I want to marry you. I'd marry you tomorrow, I'd marry you next week, I'll marry you whenever. Jesus Christ, yes, yes Matty Healy I will be your wife whenever you want me to be!" I sobbed, running over to him and engulfing him in the biggest hug that I knocked him over.

The two of us crying and giggling on the floor, the ring still safely in his hand, thank god.

Matty wrapped his left arm around my waist, sitting the two of us up that I was straddling his lap.

"So....can I put the ring on you? Just to make it official?" He smiled widely. Eyes squinting and teeth showing.

"Yes. Yes. Yes." I spoke excitedly. Each yes being punctuated by a passionate kiss.

With his still shaky hands, he slipped the beautiful gold and opal ring onto my ring finger. My heart skipping a beat from a touch so soft and loving.

He brought the hand up to his lips, kissing the ring keeping his eyes on mine.

"Just the three of us future Y/N Healy."

"Just the three of us Matthew Timothy Healy."

Matty looked up above us, noticing the mistletoe that hung.

"Would you look at that. Ever thought you'd get proposed to under the mistletoe when we hung it up last night?" He smirked, his eyes watching my every move as I quickly got up to get Rosie.

"If you'd told me six years ago when I met you outside a pub in Manchester that you'd be the person I'd love for the rest of my life, I would've believed you." I smiled wholeheartedly, returning back to the floor with Rosie sitting on my lap.

"What? Really?" Matty was totally shocked by my words. Not expecting me to say that I knew he'd be the one.

"From the minute you asked me if I had a spare cigarette and I turned around to face you, there was no way I was letting go of you. Loving someone has never been easier. Falling in love with you and Rosie has been the easiest thing I've ever done in my entire life, and everyday I fall more and more in love."

"Stop it, darling. You're gonna make me cry again." Matty huffed, looking up at the ceiling to try and stop himself from crying.

"I think someone else is going to start crying if you don't give her her first kiss under the mistletoe." I chuckled, letting go of a squirming Rosie so she could go back to clinging onto her dad.

"Uh oh, we can't have little miss RoRo crying. Isn't that right, petal?" He tickled her chubby baby belly, making her roar out a laugh that had me and Matty laughing along with her.

Just the three of us. Under the mistletoe. My heart has never been so happy.

[sinsirellaxx]

hii could you do toxic Matteo (or all the boys) and they get mad and really aggressive so they guilt trip the reader basically saying it’s there fault and that they have help him😭? Do you get what I mean

This mess is your fault

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Warning: Toxic relationship

A/N: Hi, I hope I got it right – if not, just send me another request. 🙈

Enjoy!

The first few months of your relationship Mattheo had been nothing but sweet – he was cheeky and such a tease, yes … but he would never treat you poorly. You were the love of his life after all. That what he always told you.

There were a few curious incidents that sent a wave of nausea through you whenever you thought of them, but you couldn’t tell whether those incidents were justified or not – you had never been in a relationship before and had nothing to compare. Mattheo had acted out of boyfriendly-duty, right?

Thankfully, those incidents had been rare and predominated by your otherwise bubbly and cheesy boyfriend. The biggest change you had seen in your boyfriend, however, was after your first time with him: It had been on your first anniversary – you had wanted to wait, and he had been respectful of your wishes. Mattheo had been careful with you, constantly watching out for you and asking if everything was alright. That night you had been sure that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. That he was the right one. But soon after, he had grown more possessive – demanding to control everything you did and supervising most of your conversations with others.

At first, you hadn’t thought anything of it – the new, more aggressive Mattheo had sent butterflies through your stomach, leaving you feeling giddy and excited. The thought of him being jealous and possessive seemed more … romantic. At least, that was what you had told yourself.

But when he started going through your dresser, throwing everything he deemed inappropriate onto one pile – even your favorite pieces – you lost it.

“What the hell do you think you are doing, Matty?!” You gasped as you ran to him, pulling on his right arm to move him away from your dresser. Mattheo didn’t budge, roughly pushing you away with the arm you held onto, causing you to trip over your feet and fall down with a yelp. He had never laid a hand on your before – the spot on your chest hurt from the way he had pushed you with his elbow.

“I’m cleaning your dresser, what else could I be doing?” He spat, not fazed that he had just pushed you to the floor. Your eyes widened at his tone, your heart beating faster as the memories of every weird incident rushed over you, alarm bells ringing in your head. No, please no. You told yourself, trying to calm yourself. Mattheo was still your Matty, right? Taking in a deep breath, you slowly stood up, “No, Mattheo. I can see that. But why? I don’t want you to do that, so stop it.”

“And not just that, I want you to stop reading through my messages and – I have the feeling tthat you are trying to control and manipulate me all the time.”

At this Mattheo stopped, his shoulders tensed as he let his head hang down, hands resting on the wardrobe rail. He chuckled lowly, before pushing himself away from the remaining clothing. “It’s funny how you think you have a say in any of this, but I have to admit, you are smarter than I thought, love.” Turning around to face you he took a few steps towards you, his eyes dangerously narrow – the dangerous glint in them causing you to take a step back whenever he took one towards you. “You are mine now. You do as I say. If I don’t want you to dress like that, you don’t. If I want to throw away your clothes, I will. If I don’t want, you to talk to your friends then you will just have to accept it.” Mattheo smiled widely at you; his head tilted to the side.

When the back of your legs finally hit your bed, you were forced to stop, holding your breath when his hand came to cup your cheek.

“Do you understand, love?” He whispered against your lips. “And really, this is all just your fault – you made me like this. You have been neglecting our relationship, trying to draw the attention of other people to you. I have to protect you.” Pressing a feather like kiss onto your slightly parted lips he took a step back.

"This mess is your fault."

[justlikemebutsixfootthree]

direction -

pairing:  matty healy x f!reader

content: fingering, unprotected sex, matty can't shut the fuck up™, overstim

wordcount: 3743

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: the people have spoken

your motto has always been "fake it till you make it". what started as something you'd say to yourself to get over anxieties slowly bled into other areas of your life, relationships included.

fake confidence until you have it. fake experience until you get some.

easy, right?

well, over time, you've become a pro faker. people rarely approach you cause they think you're arrogant.

and that suits you. who has time for superficial relationships anyways?

but then you met matty, who's gentle, kind, funny, smart. he never gave up on you, even if you sometimes came off as stand-offish, even if you acted like you were too good for him and men in general, even if you fought him every step of the way, surprised by his determination.

in the beginning, you played along. you let him try to woo you, let him compliment you and take you out. you responded to all of his texts, even if you are both too old to be texting like high schoolers. slowly but surely, he made you drop the façade, at least around him, which is when your relationship became more than just teasing glances and flirty texts.

everything led up to where you are now: in matty's stupidly comfortable bed, wearing his stupidly warm sweater, kissing his stupidly pretty face.

the movie he had put on was some cheesy horror flick: lots of fake blood, shitty special effects, and a naive main character. it's long forgotten though, mediocre soundtrack serving as background noise to a much more exciting activity.

you've always prided yourself on how strong you were, not being easily swayed by your sexual urges. fake it until you make it - but what then?

what if matty expects you to rock his world tonight? what if he thinks you'll take the lead, with the same (fake) confidence you do everything else? 

technically, you know how it should all work, but you have no first-hand experience. your sexual endeavours end pretty fast, either with you giving up on the guy or them thinking you're too demanding for someone who isn't putting out. either way, it’s good riddance, and you’ve never had regrets about not having sex before. 

once, during your intense college years, you had to present your research in front of all your peers. the stress caused you to lose sleep, and you replaced eating with frantic rewriting. by the time the due date rolled around, your brain was scrambled, and you were positive you were going to puke all over the front row of desks.

now, underneath the warm weight of your boyfriend, you’re feeling exactly the same way. what if you manage to do something so revoltingly off-putting he can never look at you again?

"hey."

matty's soft voice shocks you out of your quickly spiralling head. he's looking down at you with gentle, but confused, eyes.

"you've gone all stiff on me, love. you feelin' okay?"

you should've known he'd see through your wall of false confidence.

"y'know we don't have to do anything, right? you look like you're about to cry."

you refuse to dignify that with a response as heat floods your face and, mortifyingly, prickles in your sinuses. he sighs, rolling off of you and laying on his side, facing you.

“that was meant to make you laugh.”

you try to smile at him and feel your lips wobble instead.

“hey. i'm being serious, what’s going on in there?” he brings his hand up, stroking his fingers through your hair.

“i don’t want to repulse you,” you whisper.

he frowns. "you've got a horrific confidence problem. there is nothing, and i mean nothing, repulsive about you. and besides, i've already seen you at your grossest. remember when you got mono and your neck was all swollen?"

you glower at him. “yeah, and i caught it from you! that makes me feel so much better.”

shaking his head, his next words are insistent. 

“i mean it. did you know, that every time we go out, someone tells me how lucky i am? c'mon, darling, you know i wouldn't be saying this shit if it wasn't true.”

“i know, and i want to, but fuck, matty it's going to be so bad.”

“well yeah, with that attitude it will. we’re gonna figure out what you like, but only if you want to.”

his eyes are soft, looking down at you with unguarded warmth. 

clearing your throat, you fidget nervously with the edge of your (his) sweater.

“so. how - um - how do you want to...?”

he grins crookedly. “move to the middle of the bed.”

swallowing hard, you follow his instructions, legs splayed flat out in front of you as you lean back on your elbows, staring at him expectantly.

“this is about you, okay? whatever you want to do, we can do. including nothing, if it doesn’t feel right.”

your voice is barely more than a whisper. “want you to touch me.”

you could swear you hear a little hitch in his breath, and mustering all the courage you have, you meet his gaze. his mouth is slightly open, the curved bow of his upper lip revealing the edges of his white teeth, and you watch as he presses his lips closed, nodding.

"okay. you gotta talk to me, yeah? tell me if you want me to stop, if something feels good, or if you want more. deal?”

“deal,” you breathe back.

he moves, bending his head to press his mouth on the side of your neck. something splinters hot down the centre of your body, and it takes you a second to realize that it’s desire, pure and hard, crystalline. you can already feel slick warmth in your underwear, and you haven’t even started.

“oh,” you gasp, the round syllable small in your mouth, and he lowers his hand, smoothing down the bunched fabric of your (his) sweater, following the swell of your hip, moving slowly so you have time to breathe.

“good?” he murmurs, and you nod dumbly.

he inches lower, hand flat on your leg, fingers resting just a hairsbreadth from your centre. matty drags his hand lightly along the inside of your thigh, opening his mouth on your neck, tongue hot as he presses it to the softness of your skin.

“how ‘bout now?”

“mhm,” you manage.

unbearably careful, he brushes the tip of his index finger along the seam of your pants, the pressure light, but precise, right against the place you’re most sensitive. your left leg jerks as though you’ve been shocked, and he freezes his hand there, lips sealing around your neck, holding you until you stop twitching with alarm.

you can already feel a steady pooling in your underwear, and you shift uncomfortably against him, unsure if you’re doing it to relieve the ache between your legs or to increase the friction against you.

still moving with absolute restraint, he presses down, a slow, controlled line directly down the centre of your cunt. the tension in every single joint is making you shake, muscles burning with the effort of holding still, and you swear you feel something crack as he eases his touch up to rest at the waistband of your pants, before sliding his hand underneath.

“you still with me?" he murmurs and you can’t move, can’t speak, can’t breathe.

his callused fingers are resting just above your pussy, palm lightly pressed to the rise of your mound, and he lifts his lips to graze your ear.

“you gotta talk to me,” he reminds you.

you shudder, releasing your held breath, shoulders sore from the stiffness of your body. 

“yes. yes, i’m - it’s good, please don’t stop.”

he opens his hand, letting his middle finger drag slowly between your folds, and you feel it at the same moment he does; you’re soaked.

so unbelievably wet it feels like something’s gone wrong and you want to shut your legs and crawl away from him. your skin is prickling with heat as you feel a slow line of sweat roll down the back of your leg, making you squirm, desperate to shuck your skin.

“oh, baby..." he breathes, the edges of his teeth scraping your earlobe. “you’re soaked.”

clenching your eyes shut, your is voice petulant as you murmur back to him.

“i can’t help it, i don’t know why, it’s not my fault. i -"

“shush. it’s so fucking hot. you’re so reactive,” he says, voice gravelly. he slides a second finger to join the first, parting them and spreading your folds. even through the fabric of your pants, you can both hear the slick sound and you want to die; burrow into a hole somewhere and never come out. as though sensing your squirming agony, he chooses that moment to ease both fingers inside you, and your heart stops in your chest at the slow stretch.

this is matty. your matty. and right now his fingers are inside you, stretching you open.

the thought alone is enough to make your entire body throb with a sudden, overpowering pulse and you feel yourself clench around him unconsciously. he groans into your ear.

“you’re so tight. shit, you feel perfect. does that feel good?”

you can’t speak, nodding helplessly against him. he withdraws a couple of centimetres, easing back inside slower but deeper than before, hooking his fingers slightly inside you. your hips flex against his touch, trying to encourage him to keep moving as he rolls his thumb over your clit, and you see stars.

matty's touch feels as confident as the way he performs; like he was born to do this; like he could do it in his sleep.

he drags his fingers inside you, and your pelvis lifts unconsciously to follow his movements, trying to chase the feeling.

“you’re doing so good, baby. you're so pretty, so fucking hot. y'gonna come for me, love?”

despite the intensity of the sensations between your legs, it’s his words that tip you over the edge. you bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying to contain the high-pitched groan as your muscles clamp around his fingers, cunt fluttering. You feel your warmth coating his fingers, and he rides you through it, his movements only easing to a stop once your body has relaxed into a melted heap draped over him.

slowly, he withdraws his fingers from your pants, sliding out from underneath you and lowering your malleable, floppy limbs onto the bed. you watch him drunkenly as he sits up in front of you on his knees, gaze snagging on his hand.

you’re mortified at the sight of the clear viscous fluid stretching between his parted fingers, and you just about die of embarrassment as he brings his hand to his lips, sliding them into his mouth and sucking them clean.

“perfect. you’re perfect,” he tells you, and you want to cover your face, but you’re pinned there, watching. his pants are tented tellingly in the front, and you’re trying not to make it obvious but you can’t tear your gaze away. 

“told you. nothing wrong with you,” he informs you, grinning.

“i’m gonna take your pants off,” he says, and you lift your hips helpfully, earning a little twist from his lips at your enthusiasm. sliding your legs free, he settles on his knees. your eyes are drawn back helplessly to the bulge in his pants, and he catches you looking.

“matty, i want - want you to...”

“what, love? c'mon, talk to me.” he crawls up over you, braced on his hands and knees, leaning down.

“fuck me.”

he raises an eyebrow. “you need a break first?”

in response, you lift your hips to press against the hard outline of his straining cock. he ducks his head, leaning his weight up on one arm as he kicks his pants down and you watch the muscles in his shoulder work through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“i’m gonna fuck you so good, baby. you want that?”

“yeah,” you whisper. “yes, do it, please.” 

“do what?” matty asks with a wry smile. he’s propped up on one elbow now, gazing down into your raw, open face. “c’mon, you've got to say it for me, angel.”

you let out a shaky sigh, a hand sliding down to the back of matty's neck. you pull him close, so your lips brush. “please fuck me. need you so bad.”

matty's eyes flutter closed for a moment. he breathes out hard, then leans away, and sits up. he's struggling with getting his pants all the way off, so you help the best you can, feeling fluttery and strange, in a feverish trance of pleasure, dumb with anticipation for more.

“please,” you mutter, “please, come on, i want it-”

“fuck, fuck, okay…” matty says, chuckling. “you gotta take it easy with the begging, sweetheart. i’m already putting everything i have into not coming the second i get inside you.” 

flushing, you brush the stray curls from matty's face. "you said you'd make it good. so shut up, and fuck me already."

"there’s my favourite brat,” matty says with a grin, then he’s holding himself at your entrance, easing in slowly, a hand on your waist. 

he’s big. you have a moment of panic at the stretch, and you gasp, hands flying up to grasp at his forearms as though you could somehow control the movement of his hips that way.

his teeth are pressed to his lip, eyes shut, and you wonder exactly how tight it is for him as he shudders through an exhalation. he forces his eyes open to look down at you, concern evident, checking up on you even as his arms shake with the effort of holding still.

“oh, sh - shit. you good?”

nodding, you release your own held breath with a shudder, your entire body trembling violently underneath him, thighs aching from how tightly wound your muscles are. he sinks down another inch and you both hiss in synchrony, your fingers tightening around his arms just as his tighten around your waist.

“you’re doing so good baby, you’re taking me so well, you feel perfect,” he’s breathing, the fullness unbearable. you arch your neck to look down at where you’re split open around him, the sight enough to make your breath hitch in your chest. he looks down in time to see your eyes widen, and he follows your gaze, his strangled intake of breath following.

“you see that? see how perfect you are? fuck, you’re so beautiful, you’re so tight, you feel incredible...” 

you press your lips to his, stopping his unhinged babbling. you’re trying your hardest just to concentrate on taking his thick cock, breathing through the desperate ache as he slowly forces you open. he parts his lips against yours and you press your tongue against him, seeking more. his groaning response makes him slip, losing control for one second, just long enough to let him sink the rest of the way inside you. he’s trying to break from your lips, but you don’t want to listen to whatever it is he’s about to say, so you gently bite down on his lower lip, holding him captive. his hips flex helplessly into you as he tries to talk again, and despite your breathlessness, you could almost laugh at the fact that even now, typically; matty healy just cannot shut the fuck up.

the agonizing, all-encompassing stretch is slowly easing into something else; something bright and hard, sending skittering shockwaves up through your stomach. experimentally you flatten your feet on the bed under you, using the leverage to push your hips up and—shit, it’s too much, too full, you can’t possibly take any more of him but then right there, the angle shifts, and something snaps in your brain.

you wrench your head back, keening as you try to grind up into that spot, that fucking spot. matty's eyes are unfocused, his expression pained.

“baby, wait, wait a sec,” and you can’t help but roll yourself against him again, making him choke.

“what’s wrong?” you breathe back, unable to keep still, your legs trembling with the effort of holding yourself up against him.

“is this...not good?” you ask, suddenly small.

he doesn’t answer right away, and you watch as sweat beads on his upper lip, his eyes still squeezed shut.

“matty?” you try again and he makes a strangled sound, eyes snapping open to pin you down.

“say my name again,” and you barely shape your lips around it before he’s hissing, driving his hips down to smack hard into yours, knocking the breath from your lungs. 

“d’yknow how - how many times i’ve thought about this? About being inside you like this?” he punctuates his words with short, hard thrusts. “you’re fucking perfect. your pussy's, fuck - fucking perfect.”

your face erupts with heat at his words. he catches you flinching and his eyes light, grinning even as you watch the muscles in his shoulders shake with the effort of controlling himself.

“why’s that make you shy? don’t like me talking about your pussy? you wanna know how good you feel, baby? you’re—shit,” another shallow thrust, his brows pinching together, “so tight and, fuck, taking me so well…” his rambling trails out into nonsensical murmurs. 

he’s slowly working into a rhythm, flexing his hips backwards, still short and shallow but he’s angling himself so precisely, right against the place where you can’t stand, and it’s too much. you squirm back into the mattress, trying to escape, but there’s nowhere to go as the sensation swells to a crest. you tighten around him, your legs falling limp, your fingers creeping up into his hair, needing something to brace yourself against as the growing reverberations between your legs throb outwards, filling your stomach with heat.

you can almost see your orgasm rocketing up through you, your vision cutting out right as you shatter with a pathetic moan of his name. your cunt clamps down on him hard, again and again, rippling around him. he watches you fall apart, his breathing steady despite the tremor in his limbs. he barely gives you a minute to recover before he’s moving again, deepening his thrusts, expression one of absolute focus. the sheer concentration in his eyes scares the shit out of you; you know that look. it’s the one he gets whenever someone tells him no to an idea in the studio, when someone says that he shouldn't put out another black and white music video, when his bullish stubbornness completely takes over.

matty leans back, raising himself onto his knees between your spread legs. he brings a hand under each of your knees, crooking your legs up around his waist as he works in and out of you, the wet squelch of your cunt loud over the muffled sounds of the forgotten movie as he begins to fuck you in earnest. you can’t breathe, incapacitated by the shuddering of your legs, your stomach muscles clenching as your body desperately tries to keep up with your frantic gasping. your back is arched, your shoulders forced down into the bed with the force of each thrust as he reaches down between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit as easily as though your body is laid out the same as his guitars or keyboards, practised and nimble.

sweat prickles your skin anew as his fingers drag you higher and incomprehensibly higher and you wail, slapping a hand over your mouth to still the sound. he leans over you, the triangle of bare skin at his chest gleaming with sweat, fine silver chain glinting under the edge of his shirt. he grabs your wrist and moves your hand aside, pinning it to the bed beside your head.

"hey, hey. c'mon babe, let me hear you." he times a perfectly-aligned thrust with a firm stroke over your clit and, unable to stop yourself, you let out a breathless moan. he grins, chuckling breathily.

"god, you sound so good. prettiest fuckin' thing ive ever heard," he murmurs, voice ragged. he rips the sound from you again, and again, watching greedily. it’s too much, way too much and you’re already over the edge of another orgasm before you realize what’s happening, eyes rolling back in your head, mouth open in wordless pleasure.

this time he doesn’t slow down, instead increasing the pressure on your clit, fucking you deeper. his cock hits something sharp high up in your guts and you sob as another orgasm rolls up from your stomach, washing over the last climax. your hips twitch helplessly against his grip as he fucks you through each wave of pleasure, and you think you’re coming again, or still coming, you can’t tell anymore, time losing all meaning as your cunt sucks wet at his cock, bearing down on him vice-tight.

some impossible time later, you realize his breaths have shortened into gasps. his hips stutter and he leans back down over you, arms braced on either side of your head as his pace falls out of its steady rhythm. you manage to regain control of yourself long enough to reach a hand up to the back of his neck, feeling the hem of his shirt under your fingers. he looks down at you, and his mouth drops open, eyes dropping shut as he groans your name, low and rough, and as he plunges in deep you actually feel him coming before he does. his back curves over you, his forehead pressed to yours as his hips shudder, and the tightening of his stomach muscles against yours is echoed inside you as his cock throbs, filling you.

he lays heavy on your chest, both of you panting. everything is so slick underneath you, you can’t tell what’s sweat and what’s cum, your skin feverish. you shift your thighs restlessly, sticky and aching and he raises his head, looking down at you.

“was that...okay?” you breathe, self-conscious again.

his eyes shut briefly as he shakes his head.

“you’re crazy. she’s crazy,” he says to nobody in particular, lifting himself over you, hands pressing into the mattress. 

gasping, you sit up on your elbows to look down at him.

“what are you doing?”

his tongue laves long stripe along your still-sensitive pussy, dipping briefly inside before he breaks the contact to look up at you, eyebrow raised.

“cleaning you up. you thought we were done?”

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

© 2023 justlikemebutsixfootthree - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or claim as yours

[darlingdesire]

ADORE

just a plotless fluffy block of writing about how whipped Matty is for Y/N. (first time writing for Matty)

Matty woke up early in the morning, feeling the warmth of the sun's first rays seeping through the curtains. He looked over to see Y/N sleeping soundly beside him, facing him, her chest rising and falling with each breath. He couldn't help but smile as he gazed at her, her beauty taking his breath away.

He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, reveling in the softness of her skin. To him, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He loved the way she smiled, the way she laughed, and the way she looked at him with those sparkling eyes.

God, he thought she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. He knew he had never seen anyone as beautiful as Y/N. Every time he looked at her, he was struck by her stunning features. He loved the way her hair fell in loose strands around her face, the way her eyes glimmered when she smiled, and the way her lips formed a perfect pout that he loved kissing.

Y/N was more than just beautiful. Etheral, yes. But it was also her character that drew him to her. She was kind, funny, and intelligent, and he was constantly in awe of her. He loved the way she laughed at his jokes, the way she listened to him when he talked, and the way she always seemed to know just what he needed.

Matty knew that Y/N was beautiful both inside and out. He loved the way she cared for others, always putting their needs before her own. He admired her intelligence, her drive, and her unwavering determination to succeed in everything she did.

Matty couldn't help but stare at Y/N in wonder. He loved the way she moved, the way she talked, and the way she just seemed to light up the room.

Y/N was a work of art, a masterpiece that he was lucky enough to have in his life. He knew that she was special, and he cherished every moment they spent together.

He would often tell Y/N how beautiful she was, but he knew that his words could never do her justice. She was simply too perfect, too stunning, too amazing for words. So with a kiss to every inch if her skin, he thought that all the love he had pent up inside would transfer onto her. Actions served greater than words.

Matty was grateful every day for the gift of Y/N's presence in his life. He knew that he would never find anyone else like her, and he thanked his lucky stars that she was his.

As he continued to gaze at her, he thought about how much he loved her. Y/N had helped him become the person he is today, and he was grateful for every moment he had with her. She had changed his outlook on life, made him appreciate the small things, and showed him what true love was.

He couldn't imagine his life without her. Y/N was the light in his life, the one who had filled his days with joy and happiness. Matty knew he would never find anyone else like her, and he cherished every moment they spent together.

Matty leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on Y/N's forehead, feeling her stir in her sleep. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer, savoring the feel of her warm body against his.

He knew he was head over heels in love with her. Y/N was his everything, and he would do anything for her. He wanted to make her feel special, to show her how much she meant to him.

Matty closed his eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of Y/N's hair. He felt his heart swell with love and admiration, and he couldn't help but whisper to her, "You have no clue, do you?" And let it simmer out into the open for a few seconds, all while his dark eyes continued to trickle over his girl’s face, “how much I adore you.”

[everythingdenied]

stubble-matty healy

a/n: hey loves <3 idk why i'm suddenly deciding it's a good idea for me to post my writing on tumblr again (or why the first thing is i'm deciding to post is just pure filth) but here we are. i've had this in my notes for aggeess and since everyone's in their matty era rn i thought i'd feed you all. pls be nice i am actually shitting it posting this. (also apologies to all my old moots who now have matty healy in their feed when they do not want him! love u all x)

warnings: just pure self indulgent smut tbh (but it's cute, I promise!) smoking, fem!reader        

wc: 1,691

I’d never really been an early bird. The morning air was always a little too cold on my skin for my liking and I didn’t much enjoy the taste of coffee, nor the sound of my alarm, which I set each night despite knowing I’d sleep through it every time without fail. My pillow never felt quite as fluffy as it did in the evening and the noises of the bustling city I’d grown somewhat fond of only existed to annoy me as I prised open my tired eyes. And yet, with him…I was every bit a morning person.

There was just something different about waking up to him. Even at 7am, with my alarm blaring from my phone and the barely conscious thought that I had to be up for a meeting soon flitting around my brain, I couldn’t help but smile to myself whenever I opened my eyes to see him beside me. Especially on those rare occasions like today that I woke up before him, languidly turning onto my side to see the man I loved still dozing peacefully.

He was such a pretty sleeper, his face nuzzled into the crook of my neck, lips parted and warm breath tickling my bare skin with each soft snore. His curls, which he’d recently developed a penchant for flattening down with obscene amounts of hair gel, were splayed out haphazardly on the pillow and I smiled sleepily at the sight, moving to brush a few stray locks from his eyes. I pressed a a featherweight kiss to his forehead and he stirred, a contented hum slipping from his lips, but didn’t wake, much to my delight. I so wanted to bask in this moment just a little longer, scarcely having the pleasure of seeing my boyfriend in a state so unadulteratedly vulnerable.

Minutes passed and, still draped in my sheets and his limbs that he’d aimlessly tossed over me in the middle of the night, I watched Matty with a sleepy smile painting my mouth. My eyes traced his every freckle which, after nearly four years together, I thought I’d become familiar with, only stopping when I noticed his eyelids slowly flutter open.

He yawned and sluggishly rubbed a fist against his eyes, dazed with sleep as he blinked up at me.

“Morning” I smiled, finding him wonderfully endearing when he was barely over the threshold of slumber.

“Mph, g’mornin…” He croaked out lowly, eyes falling shut again as he buried his head further into my neck, placing a sloppy kiss to my jawline. “How long have y’been awake?”

“Not long. Couple of minutes, maybe.” Matty hummed, lips never once leaving my skin as he peppered a listless trail of saccharine kisses from my jaw to my neck. His two day old stubble brushed against me and I giggled at the sensation, squirming under his touch. “That tickles…”

“Sorry.” He smirked, looking up at me with a familiar cheeky glint in his eye, still managing to tease me in his drowsy state. “Need to shave."

I shook my head, scratching the light shadow of facial hair that peppered his jaw.

"I dunno...I kinda like it. You look quite fit."

"Yeah?" Matty snickered at my words, his laugh a little rough with sleep, and nuzzled his cheek against mine, intentionally grazing my skin with his stubble. I pushed him away, biting back my playful smile.

"Stop it. You're gonna give me beard burn."

"You've never complained about that before, love..." He chuckled but pulled away from me, sitting up to lazily reach for the packet of cigarettes resting on his side-table, pulling a smoke out with his teeth.

I rolled my eyes, knowing exactly what he was implying and wanting no part of it. I had work in an hour or so; choosing to engage with him and his incessant virility was a dangerous game that I wasn't too sure I had the time to play.

"It's barely seven o'clock, Matthew. Get your head out of the gutter" I chided, eyes fixed on him as he lit his cigarette, the sheets pooling at his waist and his unruly curls flopping forward.

He grinned sleepily, blowing out a thin trail of smoke from the corner of his mouth before turning to look at me, propping himself up on one elbow. "S'always deep in the gutter with you, darlin."

Jesus.

I pursed my lips, suddenly feeling restless under his half-lidded gaze. He knew it, too; more than aware of the effect he had on me, especially at times like this where the border between love and lust blurred in the hazy morning light.

"Even when you've just woke up?" I cocked a brow, stealing the cigarette from between his fingers and taking a long pull.

Inching closer, Matty smirked and slipped a hand beneath my pyjama shirt, his thumb kneading soft circles against my waist.

"Oh, that's when it's at its deepest." Claiming the cig back, he took one last drag before stubbing it out in a nearby ashtray, wasting no time in pulling me flush against his warm body. His lips met mine in a matter of seconds and I practically purred; the first proper kiss of the day far better than the buzz any amount of espresso or nicotine could give.

For a minute or so, the two of us remained locked in a kiss, a barely-awake display of affection that only turned to desire when Matty's hands fell from my waist, fingers hooking under the cotton waistband of my underwear.

"Matty..."I mumbled against his mouth, brushing away his hand only for it to fall right back into position. "Mph...I've gotta get up for work."

He pouted, pulling away somewhat breathlessly.

"Please" His voice radiated with a fervent desperation. "I'll be quick. Jus' wanna taste you before you go."

"I-I dunno. I really can't be late again."

The heat between my legs said differently.

"Please, love..." He reiterated, almost whimpering now. "Promise you won't be."

He was already practically between my legs at this point, fingers splayed out against my hips as he planted sloppy kisses to my stomach, my shirt now somehow hiked up just below my breasts.

This man was going to be the death of me (and probably my career, by the looks of things.)

"Shit, Matt" I shook my head lightly at my the love of my life as he lay at the foot of the bed we'd shared for years, gazing up from between my thighs with sleepy adoration and the morning sun on his face. I could do nothing more than sigh in defeat. "Fine. But you're looking after me if I lose my job over you."

"Always" he breathed out softly.

It took him no time at all to pull down my underwear, letting them bunch up at my ankles as he turned his full attention to my thighs, which already glistened with my own slick.

"Fuck, love" He drew a sharp breath, languidly nibbling at the skin just below my pussy, leaving lazy, haphazard marks on my inner thighs. His grip on my hips grew tighter. "So beautiful."

"Thought you said you were going to be quick." I whined, bucking my hips slightly. Matty chuckled, his warm breath brushing my bare cunt.

"God, so needy" He quipped jokingly and I lifted my head from the pillow to shoot him a look. Brave words for a man who'd just practically grovelled at my feet for a taste of me. "Alright, alright. You don't need to tell me twice."

And with that his mouth finally got to work, lapping up my dripping arousal with a fervency that let me know just how much he desired me. Matty didn't always want to admit it; sincerity was difficult for him at the best of times, but he'd crawl into my skin if he could. Moments like this, when his mouth and attention was on me and me alone were his special way of letting me know that I was all his.

The speed at which his tongue worked at grew with each passing moment, no longer idly circling my clit. I gasped, hands grasping at his curls as I felt the familiar burn of his stubble against my inner thighs, an added sensation I was rarely lucky enough to experience. Thank fuck he hadn't bothered to shave.

"Feel good, gorgeous?" I let out a strangled moan in response and Matty hummed in satisfaction against my core, the soft vibration only bringing me closer to orgasm. "Good. S'my pretty girl."

He said nothing more, the room only filling with the sound of pleasure; my desperate whimpers and the sloppy sound of his tongue as it drew shapes against my bud intermingling in one sweet sonance. With each lick, I grew nearer to release. Matty knew my body well enough to know I wasn't far from cumming, feeling me writhe beneath him, mumbled expletives slipping from my mouth as he told me just how good I tasted.

"Nearly there, darlin'. Doin' so well." He quickened his pace, breathing heavily as he coated my pussy in his saliva. "Wanna cum for me, yeah?"

I nodded, although I wasn't sure he could see me, the coil in my lower stomach tightening.

"Y-yeah."

"Thought so" he breathed. "Go on then, love."

And I did, coming apart beneath him, loosing myself momentarily in a feeling of burning pleasure only he could ever elicit from me. I sung his praises, his name falling from my lips as he slowed, his featherweight kisses to my clit allowing me to ride out my high. Matty let out a throaty groan himself, getting off on knowing he'd done this to me.

Hazily flopping my head back against the pillow, I felt Matty clamber up the bed, watching me with loving ardor as my chest heaved.

He hovered above me, his hands positioned firmly on either side of my shoulders as he leant down to kiss me, his (not quite) beard glistening with my juices and his lips slick and wet.

"How's that for beard burn, aye?" He smirked against my mouth and, despite my exhaustion, I found just enough energy to smack his shoulder playfully.

"Dickhead."

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part seventy-nine: "The Hell Day"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You stay home from work because you're having a terrible day on your period.

Or

Matt stops by for a surprise visit and offers you comfort in more ways than one.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 2.9k

a/n: This is a little hurt/comfort fic while Reader is on her worst day of her period. And there's some Sweet Matty comforting Reader and some moving in discussions! Our next installment is titled "The Revisitation of Moving In" that I'll hopefully be sharing later this week! You can find the entire list of installments for this series on tumblr here.

Tag List: @stilldreaming666 @mattkinsella @ninacoette @murdocksclient @madscamp02 @1988-fiend @lina-mar @pinkratts @schneeflocky (I apologize if I missed someone or if any of these tags didn't work! Some of you might have search settings turned off on your account so I can't actually tag you!)

Curled up on your couch absently watching the food channel, your arms were wrapped around your abdomen as you groaned in misery. Your whole body ached, especially your lower back, and you'd been feeling nauseous since early this morning when you'd woken up. You'd had a headache for the past five hours that just wouldn't go away no matter how much water you drank or ibuprofen you took. 

You were on day two of your period–also known as Hell Day. Since it was Friday and you'd felt like death, having woken up long before your alarm had gone off and been unable to fall back asleep because your cramps were just that painful, you'd called off work. Last night had been one of those rare nights that Matt hadn't stopped by as Daredevil because he'd stayed home working on a case, so you'd thankfully not had to wake up to him witnessing how miserable you were. 

While you'd avoided Matt over that first period week you'd gotten months ago, right after the two of you had gotten together, you hadn't continued that trend for most of the periods that followed after. Though admittedly you had often managed to find a way to avoid him one way or another on Period Hell Day for months now, so he'd yet to encounter you on the absolute worst day of your period. Which you'd been grateful for, because generally you were more of an emotional mess than usual, and that's exactly how you'd felt today, as if you were one random, small thing away from crying. Again .

A knock at your apartment door drew your eye towards it, a deep frown settling onto your face. There could only be one person who would be here knocking on your door at almost seven on a Friday night. You closed your eyes, rolling over and burying your face in the pillow you'd been lying on. Another groan left you yet again. 

"I don’t feel good tonight, Matt," you grumbled into the pillow. “Leave me to my misery.”

"You and I both know that I'm not going to do that," Matt's distinctive voice came from the other side of the door. “Let me in, sweetheart.”

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” you protested, face still buried in the pillow.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m blind,” he quipped back, amusement clear in his tone.

“ Matt ,” you whined.

You heard the clear rumble of his chuckle outside of your door, the sound of it drawing your face from its hiding place. It had been yesterday afternoon since you last saw him for lunch and you certainly had missed him–despite how pathetic it was to admit because it had barely been over twenty-four hours.

"I brought mint ice cream?" Matt called hopefully through the door. “And it’s uh, probably going to melt on me if you leave me out here.”

“Why didn’t you lead with that?” you called back.

You pushed yourself upright on the couch with a grimace, your cramps somehow feeling worse now that you weren’t curled in the fetal position. 

“Because I sort of thought my girlfriend would be happy for some company and comfort tonight?” he responded. "Didn't expect that I'd need to bribe her to answer the door."

Eyes narrowing, you rose to your feet, shuffling your way to your apartment door. Your right hand was pressed to your bloated abdomen like it was going to keep your insides from somehow falling out of you while you walked. Quickly unlocking your door with your left hand, you swung it open to reveal Matt’s handsome and smiling face. He held up the container of mint ice cream he had in fact brought over in one of his hands. 

“What the hell does that mean?” you asked him suspiciously, eyes still narrowed as you ignored the ice cream. “Why would you think I want company and comfort tonight?”

Matt’s smile immediately fell, his dark brows drawing together, a crease forming between them. His head slowly shifted to the side as he pursed his lips. There was a long moment that he stood in your doorway looking confused as he remained silent.

“Because you’re…on your period?” he eventually answered carefully. “And I know you usually don’t feel well?”

“How do you know I’m on my period?” you questioned him.

Matt’s head tilted further to the side, his dark brows almost entirely disappearing behind the red lenses of his glasses now. “This…this feels like a trick question,” he said slowly. “I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to answer that.”

You shook your head quickly, hugging both arms over your stomach as if that would somehow block Matt’s heightened senses from picking up on anything from your body. “No, ew, definitely don’t answer that ,” you agreed. “I meant I haven’t seen you today, how would you know?”

“I saw you yesterday, sweetheart,” he pointed out. 

“But I hadn’t told you I was on it because I just had–” you stopped, eyes going wide when Matt’s expression turned sheepish. “Oh my God , you could still tell ?” When he opened his mouth you immediately shook your head again, throwing a hand up from your stomach to stop him. “No, please do not actually answer that.”

“It’s not a big deal, sweetheart,” he said gently.

“Says you !” you shot back.

“So you’re just going to leave me to let this mint ice cream melt all over my hands in your hall then?” he asked.

“Obviously not,” you said, stepping aside.

Matt took a slow, careful step into your apartment, almost as if he was wary that you really didn’t want him here. Your shoulders sagged at the sight, shutting the door after him.

“Sorry, I’m a hormonal mess,” you apologized. “I feel horrible and I wasn’t expecting you to stop by tonight and now I’m just overthinking your senses. Again .”

You accepted the ice cream from Matt, turning and bringing it to the kitchen to keep in your freezer for now. Behind you, you heard Matt slipping out of his shoes.

“You know you really don’t need to do that,” he told you. “Overthinking my senses about things.”

“Sort of hard not to do,” you mumbled. “Overthinking is sort of my thing.”

You made your way back towards the living room where Matt was pulling his dark glasses from his face. His eyes were tracking your movement as he leaned over to set the glasses onto your coffee table, the smile growing on his lips as you made your way towards him.

“If you’re ever actually going to move in with me,” he said, “you’re kind of going to have your period around me, sweetheart. And you know it doesn’t bother me. I’ve told you that a hundred times now.”

Sighing dramatically, you once again hugged your arms across your bloated stomach as you came to a stop in front of him. “Try getting my overthinking mind to believe you,” you replied.

He chuckled lightly, his hands reaching out and landing on your shoulders. He gave them an affectionate squeeze that drew a small smile onto your face.

“I have been trying that for awhile now,” he pointed out. “Clearly it’s not an easy feat to accomplish.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “because all I can think about are the gross things you’re picking up on when I’m like this. And I’m…” you trailed off, lips clamping together before you could admit what was on your mind.

Matt’s face shifted to something serious instantly, clearly sensing your hesitation. His eyes were scanning around your face curiously. “You’re what?” he prompted.

Chewing your lip, you gazed down at your coffee table. Could you really verbalize something so gross and ridiculous to Matt? The last thing you felt like doing right now was discussing your period with the man you wanted to still find you attractive when you weren’t bleeding in a few more days.

“Hey,” he said, his tone softer as he gripped your shoulders a little tighter, “you can tell me anything. What’s bothering you?”

“It’s just…if I move in with you, you’re right,” you admitted quietly. “I’ll be having my period around you. Like all the time.”

“Yes,” Matt agreed. “I am aware that it's a monthly occurrence. And I don’t have a problem with that.”

“But like…” you continued, your eyes locked on your coffee table because you could not look at him, “that means I’ll, you know, be…disposing of period-related things. At your place. All the time."

Matt let out an amused snort that quickly drew your eyes to his face. He bit his bottom lip, shaking his head quickly.

“Sorry, sorry, I really don’t mean to laugh,” he said immediately. “I’m not–not trying to make light of your feelings, but sweetheart, it’s just blood. I bring enough blood home on a near nightly basis. I don’t care. It doesn't bother me. And for the record, it would be our place."

“But you have the nose of a bloodhound–”

“Better, actually,” he cut in.

“Matt!” you shrieked, to which he only chuckled again. “That’s not helping!”

"You're right, I'm sorry," he said, the grin still on his face. "Just trying to lighten the mood."

You shifted awkwardly on your feet before him, other anxious thoughts about living with Matt crossing your mind. As if sensing that, his hands slid down your shoulders, making their way down your arms until they wrapped around your own hands. 

"Hey, let's sit," he suggested gently. 

Matt led you back towards your couch, the pair of you settling down onto the cushions beside each other. He kept his hold on your hands, that serious expression back on his face as he gazed at you. 

"What's on your mind, sweetheart?" he asked. "Tell me."

"I just–just worry about all the things you're going to pick up on if I move in with you," you confessed. "Things I'm not aware of because of your heightened senses."

Matt murmured your name, the sound drawing your eyes up to his face. Nervously you chewed your lip, Matt's thumbs rubbing lightly over the backs of your hands. 

"You've spent so much time with me already, sweetheart," he pointed out. "Staying the night at my place or me staying here. And I'm still here not grossed out by you." One corner of his lips curled upwards as he added, "And I lived with Fog during college for years . Share an office with him almost every day of the week now. You're not going to gross me out or whatever you're afraid of."

"Well Foggy isn't hoping you're still attracted to him at the end of the day," you blurted. 

Matt's mouth twisted into a bigger grin in response. "Well that would mean I'd have to be attracted to Fog at the beginning of the day," he teased.

You sighed deeply, not wanting his jokes right now. Quickly picking up on that, Matt sent you an apologetic smile. 

"I'm serious, Matt," you admitted awkwardly. "If we live together, you'll be around me all the time. Every bad day I have and every morning of my gross morning breath. And every period where I'm super gross, like right now. And every time–"

"Hey," Matt cut you off firmly, squeezing your hands. "I want every moment with you, sweetheart. All of it. The good and the bad. I want you with me. And you are not super gross right now," he stated sharply. "You never are. Nothing is going to make me love you or want you any less."

You couldn't help the sting of tears that pricked at your eyes or the way your lips had begun to tremble as Matt's words hit you hard. His brows drew together on his forehead as he noticed your body’s reaction. 

"Sweetheart?" he asked, his eyes softening as they focused near your own. "Why're you crying?"

Tears had already quickly begun falling down your cheeks in hot, wet steaks. You sniffled loudly, fighting to keep your voice as even as you could when you spoke. 

"Because I'm hormonal as fuck, Matt," you sobbed. "And you're so fucking charming and sweet. And I love you." You slipped a hand out of his hold as you gestured behind you towards your kitchen. "And you brought me my favorite ice cream on my worst damn day of the month!"

His brows knitted further together, the crease between them deepening on his face. The corner of his mouth twitched downwards. "Those are all–all good things though," he pointed out carefully. 

"I know!" you agreed, your voice cracking. 

His head tilted to the side as he studied you for a moment. "So you're…happy?" he clarified.

"Yes!" you exclaimed. "I'm incredibly hormonal and you're being really great and it's making me cry! But I also cried watching House Hunters earlier, too." 

He laughed lightly, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around you. One of his large hands began soothingly running up and down your back as you buried your face into his dress shirt. You quickly soaked the material with your tears as your arms wrapped around him in return, balling the material in your fists. That familiar scent of him surrounded you and you buried your nose further into his shirt. A moment later you felt him pressing a kiss into your hair.

"I love you, Matty," you said into his chest. 

"I love you, too, sweetheart,” he murmured. “How about I get changed and I come cuddle you on the couch?" he offered. "I can give you a back massage if you lay on me. I can hear how sore your back is."

"You've had a long week yourself," you replied, sniffling again. "Both in and out of the office. I'm not going to ask you to do that."

"Well you're not," he pointed out. "I'm offering. Here, let me up."

Reluctantly you released your hold of him, Matt rising up from the couch. He shot you a smile, murmuring he'd be right back back before you watched him disappear down your hall to your bedroom. 

With a sigh you settled back onto your couch, your eyes focusing back on the food channel. It was a few minutes before Matt returned no longer in his work attire. Instead he padded down your hallway barefoot in a pair of gray sweatpants with a tee-shirt in one hand. 

"Shirt or no shirt?" he asked, stopping before you on the other side of the coffee table. 

Your lips parted in surprise as your eyes raked over his bare torso, every defined inch of him on clear display in your living room. Matt grinned devilishly at you, tossing his shirt onto the coffee table before he made his way back to you. 

"That answered my question," he said, amused.

He sat down on the couch, drawing his feet up as he maneuvered behind you. And then he opened his arms to you, waving you over with a smile. 

"Come here, sweetie," he whispered. "Let me help you feel better."

You gradually climbed up on top of him, nestling your head just below his chin as your legs rested between his on your couch. While your right hand slid up to grasp his shoulder, your left hand landed along his chest beside your face, fingers absently running along his bare, warm skin that felt amazing against your bloated abdomen. Matt’s own hands settled onto your lower back, his palms beginning to press in the exact right spot against your aching muscles. It was only a matter of seconds before your eyes were closing and you were sighing in relief and contentment. 

“You’re really, really good at that,” you whispered, relaxing into him beneath you.

“Sort of easy when I can hear your body that well,” he replied gently.

“And that made it weird,” you pointed out.

Beneath you, Matt let out a rumbling laugh that had you bouncing along him with the movement, which in turn had you giggling. Burying your face into his chest as you laughed, you felt his hands pause their movement to hold you tight to him, his nose nuzzling into your hair as his warm chuckle filled your ears. When both your laughter subsided, Matt placed a kiss into your hair before his hands resumed their movement on your back. You gradually eased back into him beneath you, your eyelids dropping. 

“You know,” Matt began, his tone catching your attention instantly, “I hear orgasms help relieve cramps.”

Your eyes instantly grew wide, your jaw dropping in response to what he’d just suggested. There was a rumble of laughter beneath you again as you raised your head from his chest, staring down at him in shock.

“Matthew!” you shrieked.

His eyes crinkled at the corners, his smile growing wider. “Oh that one warranted my full name, did it?” he teased.

Heat crept its way up your cheeks as you buried your face back into his chest. “Oh my God ,” you groaned, voice muffled.

“I’m just letting you know that I am more than happy to help,” he told you, amusement in his voice. “Just so you know for the future.”

“I am officially embarrassed and uncomfortable,” you mumbled, still hiding your heated face against him.

“I strongly believe that one day you’ll take me up on that,” he mused, his hands still working the muscles of your aching lower back. 

“Doubt it,” you disagreed.

He chuckled yet again, his hands managing to relax you back down from the topic of conversation. Slowly you shifted until your cheek was once again resting along his chest.

“Mmm,” Matt hummed out. “Guess we’ll see who’s right eventually.”

[the1975attheirverybest]

Stupid Cupid

A/N: day 3 of valentines week prompts! summary: sometimes, love makes us stupid. warnings: none

*** Jo watched the stage in awe as Matty stumbled around in feigned drunkenness, his arms spread wide open, a bottle of wine hanging from his precarious grip. He stood still at center stage, his eyes closed, head tilted upwards, as if letting the intro of “About you” wash over him like rain. The crowd screamed hysterically as he approached the edge of the stage, reaching their hands out for him, some crying, others giggling. Embarrassingly, Jo felt herself blush when he singled her out by pausing to look directly into her eyes. She felt silly. Like another face in the crowd, awe-struck by his undeniable presence. “I know a place,” he smiled, breaking away from her eyes and walking to the other side of the stage as he sang the opening lyrics.

Jo listened to the people around her as they observed and meditated on various aspects of his beauty. The way that the light hit his bare chest just right. His sweat-dripping hair glistening as if covered in glitter. His perfectly plump lips, looking so kissable. His big, beautiful eyes. The veins in his arms when he’d stretch them out as if trying to grab a hold of a fleeting moment, singing “hold on to hope that we’ll find our way back in the end.” The way that he moved as if the music came from his bones. Jo didn’t know what she felt. She agreed with them that he looked perfect onstage. Particularly ethereal performing this song. He is a beautiful man even on his worst days. Her eyes would never tire of looking at him. But she also felt resentment and jealousy. This was her man. Her love. Her beautiful, ethereal, dramatic rockstar. It was her eyes that were meant to gaze upon his features. logically, she knew it was stupid to think that way. But she couldn’t help herself. It felt like she was being forced to share her innermost thoughts and feelings with the entire venue. To reveal her secrets to them. It did not feel good. she thought she’d feel affirmed or vindicated in some way, when, at the end of the show, as Mark rushed him through the crowd, Matty waited, gesturing for her to squeeze away from everyone and come join him. He took her hand in his as he walked through, but they hardly said two words to each other. Matty kept pausing every few steps, either to take a letter that a fan had attempted to hand him, to graciously receive flowers and thank the person who’d brought them, to take a selfie, hold a hand, say hello to an infant baby….

She squeezed his hand tighter as they left the screaming crowds behind and stepped into the backstage area, reassuring herself that he was there. She had him. It was just the two of them now.

“hi, darling.” He said, sweetly, kissing her as he leaned forward to grab a bottle of water and pop it open with his teeth. She ran her fingers through his hair, resting her hand at the base of his neck. “Well done tonight. I’m so proud of you.”

the words had barely left her lips before the rest of the band burst in, filling the hallways with energy and chatter and arguments over who was the hungriest and what they ought to do back at the hotel. jo and Matty’s little moment of quiet had ended. “What the fuck happened during When We Are Together?” Matty asked, seemingly out of nowhere, but George knew that the question was directed at him and chimed in with an answer right away. “It was you, mate, not me! You came in too quick.”

Matty said something too technically complicated for Jo to comprehend, and that’s when she knew that their debrief had already started. It often worked that way. Especially if something particularly good or particularly bad had happened on stage. They would be too impatient to wait for an official meeting or sit-down conversation and would dive in right away. Jo rarely kept up with the details. Not for lack of trying. It wasn’t easy, especially if their conversation happened to revolve around sound issues or equipment, but she still loved being a fly on the wall and watching their investment in little details, their relationship as bandmates, and their passion for what they do. *** Matty made a loud groaning noise as he stepped out of the bathroom, foggy steam following behind him, with nothing but a flimsy towel loosely draped over his hips. “That was the best fuckin shower I’ve ever had! Jesus Christ my legs are sore!”

Jo smiled, overwhelmed by how attractive he looked, naked and wet before her eyes. As she scanned him from head to toes, the crowds comments echoed through her head. They’d praised his chest, his hair, his lips, his eyes. She felt an uncomfortable tightness in her chest, her eyes looking away from Matty’s perfect form, in shame.

“you’ve been suspiciously quiet tonight.” Matty observed, rummaging through his bag for a pair of underwear. “What’s the matter, Jo? You alright?”

“Hmm? Me? Yeah, yeah. All good.”

Matty knew her well enough by now. He put on a pair of boxers, rushing over to her and taking her hands in his. He leaned forward, kissing her. “What’s the matter, my love?” He whispered sweetly. “You seem….i dunno. Like- distracted or something?”

She pulled into him, resting her head on his chest. “It’s….nothing. It’s really silly.”

“tell me. I wanna know.”

she giggled anxiously, “well, it’s just….i feel stupid. I think I’m jealous.”

Matty’s brows furrowed, his arms wrapping around her waist and squeezing her tight. “Jealous?”

“like over you. Jealous. Don’t like it when people are looking at you like- like- they’re fucking you in their imagination.”

Matty let out a loud, deep chuckle, his head thrown back as he laughed.

“don’t laugh! It’s not funny!”

“it kind of is, let’s be real.”

“Matty!” She swatted his chest weakly. “I know it’s dumb. Stupid as fuck. And….they’re fans they’re not…just random people. And they’re at a show. And you…well…youuuu….”

matty giggled, looking down at her “what’d I do?”

“you’re such a slut onstage.”

he let out another giggle, clearly amused, if not flattered, by this conversation. “I know it’s stupid to police their expression of fandom. That’s what shows are meant to be about. And it’s not like they’re being rude or disrespectful, or anything. It’s just….”

“Just what?”

“I don’t know. It feels kinda weird. To know that- like…they see you the way they I see you. They know the little details about you. The faded paper cut from two weeks ago? On your hand? The birth mark on your face? Your tattoos.... They have a favorite shirt of yours. they can tell if you lean too much on one leg cuz the other one’s a bit stiff one night. Or if you maybe didn’t get enough sleep and look a bit run down. They know you. It’s like they’re seeing you through my eyes. It just- it feels a bit weird that’s all.”

Jo thought she must sound absolutely insane to Matty, whose dedication and love for his fans matched theirs. She regretted her confession as soon as she’d said it. “God, I sound so stupid right now.”

“You don’t!” Matty kissed her, stifling a laugh. *** On their way out of the venue, Matty's face remained glued to the window of the car. Suddenly, Jo heard him yell out "There! right there! stop the car!"

The driver hit the breaks; the car came to a screeching halt.

Matty dipped his head into the front seat "feel free to park someplace. might take us a few minutes. thanks, man."

He pulled Jo out of the car along with him as he hopped out. She looked up at the flashing neon sign that he'd been eyeing.

LOVE STRUCK TATTOOS AND PIERCINGS. dot work, colored ink, fine lines.

"They close in....25 minutes" Matty squinted, reading the sign. "Perfect."

"What the fuck?" Jo whispered, as she followed behind.

***

"Mhm, just like that, perfect." Matty nodded down at the design that the artist had managed to scribble.

"And..... where would you like it?" the young woman operating the needle asked, apathetic.

"lets ask her, shall we?" Matty turned towards Jo. "Where do you think? I was thinkin' chest? but maybe thats a bit too crowded? could do arm?"

Jo took a peak at the sketch, her eyes widening in horror. "WHAT THE F-"

The tattoo that Matty was just about to get inked onto his body was, as she found out, a sketch of a mid-sized heart, pierced through with an arrow, containing her name in the middle.

The reticent tattoo artist nodded, "mhm." agreeing with Jo's horror.

"Matty-"

"What? you don't like it?" his big, brown eyes stared up at her. "I think it's pretty. The 'JO' might come out a bit too dark, but Angelica over here assures me that her line work is pristine."

"You're insane!" Jo laughed, covering her mouth with her hands.

"I think maybe under my breast. like right on this ribcage." his fingers traced the spot on his body where he envisioned the tattoo going. "That way, any time I take my shirt off, and do that quite a lot onstage, everyone will know I belong to you." He took his shirt off, setting it aside and climbed into the chair. "want me lower?" he asked Angelica.

"Y-yeah..just a tiny bit. exactly like that. perfect."

Jo stared in horror, rushing to his side as the artist prepped the area. "wh-what- you're crazy. don't you know not to get anyone's name tattooed onto your body! what if we break up!"

"she's kinda right, you know?" Angelica mumbled under her breath.

But Matty did not seem to share the two ladies' concerns. He shrugged. "Well, let's make sure that we never breakup then. Wanna hold my hand?"

"crybaby!" She squeezed his hand.

"oi, be nice to me, I'm doin this for you, you know."

Jo laughed. "Please. this insanity is your idea and yours alone."

[justanamesstuff]

The intimacy of being understood

Chapter 1

Matty Healy x f!reader

A/N: I'm so excited and SO terrified about posting this fic. I've fallen for this concept since the first moment I thought about it, I've been having so many feelings writing this sooooo I really hope you guys like it! Let me know what you think, feedback is ALWAYS welcomed!! Happy reading, guys :))

Warnings: breakups, fame, hurt feelings, typos.

Word count: 2 k

Blog Masterlist Series Masterlist

After a quick lunch, eaten at the back surrounded by boxes full of books ready to be sorted out, Kate stumbled in. She was Y/n's friend since kindergarten: one day she pushed some kid –Y/n didn’t remember him– who made her cried and Kate pushed him out of a little chair. Small Kate turned around, offering her tiny hand, and Y/n stopped crying. Nothing came between them since, maintaining a very strong friendship. 

Kate didn’t work at the bookshop with Y/n, she didn’t have the money to pay someone else to help her. She did good money enough to maintain the place and rent a small flat not far away from the shop. Even though, Kate constantly showed up wanting to spend time with her, sharing the latest gossip of her office or ramble about one of her ex-girlfriends she bumped into while helping her with the books.

“She looked amazing- Holly fuck!” Kate’s tone drifted from a normal one to a gasped whisper, interrupting herself. 

Y/n looked firstly to the front door, leaving the spreadsheet on the counter; checking if someone was happening outside. She couldn’t see anything through the window. 

She decided to ask Kate, “What?” 

“Look.” it was very rare hearing Kate whisper, she was all out, a true extrovert. Her friend’s finger pointed to the other side from the door.

Y/n turned her head, still hearing the sound of the angel caller she hanged in the entrance as a bell for when a new customer entered the shop. Her eyes finally fell on a very familiar man. 

“I’m looking, but I don’t see anything weird.” Y/n copied her tone, looking how Matty roamed through the different categories. She felt strange about him not greeting her as usual. Y/n reassured herself, ‘it must be a reason’. Her eyer returned to Kate.

“Shhh.” Kate startled her best friend with the sound when nothing really happened. Y/n glanced at her as if a new eye showed up in the middle of her forehead. 

“What’s wrong with you today?” Y/n inquired. “Sorry, but I’m not following you.” she sentenced.

Kate checked Matty was turned to point a finger in his direction. “That one…” she turned her head like a mad woman. “That’s Matty Healy!” Y/n’s friend said with a hissing voice.

Y/n was so confused, “Do you know him?” maybe he was a coworker, that happened many times before. 

“Oh my god!” Kate let his arm fell, rubbing her face dramatically. “I forget how out of this world you are.” she glanced towards the floor as if she was trying to look for answers.

“Still not having a clue over this.” Y/n let eyes returned to the paper work she needed to get done.

“Matty Healy doesn’t ring a bell inside this mind of yours?” Kate tapped her left temple. 

Y/n brushed her off, trying to think about it, even when the full name didn’t bring a bell. 

“Name plus surname no. Matty comes here all the time.” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

Kate stared, trying to decide if she was messing with her or not. “You’re full of shit.”

“No, I’m not. He’s really nice.” Y/n turned the page, writing numbers here and there. 

Matty was indeed a very regular, he had been for more than a month by that moment. Y/n fell quickly into conversations with him when he dropped by. She didn’t give the casual friendship too much thought until that moment.

“Oh, really?” Kate folded her arms, smirking with Y/n’s words. “How nice?”

Y/n couldn’t believe what she was implying, so her sight flew to her friend's face, being the one to search signals that told her she was kidding. Kate wasn’t, she really wanted to know.

“No like that!” the bookshop owner moved forward and beyond Kate’s body to check he wasn’t hearing their conversation. Y/n sighed loud watching him so far from them. 

“Mmm…don’t believe you.” Kate kept pushing her to talk, only gaining a red tint showing on Y/n’s cheeks.

“He started coming here like a few months ago. He looked stressed as fuck…he excused himself saying someone was following him, I’d thought he was talking about a mugger not- whatever he has…fans? I don’t even know.“ Y/n explained.

Kate nodded. “Crazy fans.”

“Well, he stayed a lot over the back of the shop and after- I don’t remember how long… he came back carrying a children's book. I think it was ‘The very hungry caterpillar’, and I got excited over it.” Y/n tried to avoid her friend’s eyes at all cost.

“Of course…” Kate’s voice full of irony. 

“He was buying it for his godson and since then he started showing up here and there…he never explained what he does for a living, I don’t even care.” Y/n admitted.

Kate let her hands fell on top of her chest. “Such a cute story”

“I can’t believe he’s famous.” 

“Yeah, you live under a rock.”

“No, I live inside the real world.”

“Liar.” Kate accused her. “You have your nose inside a book every time I open that door.” she pointed to the front door. 

Y/n gasped and turned, saying, “Aren’t you supposed to help me arrange the new saga?” 

Kate groaned loud. Y/n felt Matty looking their way, but didn’t dare to make eye contact. 

“Why I offered my free time again?” her friend asked.

“You own me! Remember how I had to pick your ass at 4 am at that Soho party you chose to tried to get in and got kicked out?” Y/n felt good teasing her back for once. 

“Thanks for reminding me that.” Kate eyes’ returned to Matty, who moved to sit at the big sofas adoring the centre of the shop. “I’ll go to the back. Shout when he comes over here.” she begged.

Y/n boobed her head up and down in a dramatic way, pursing her lips at the same time. 

“Mhm, definitely going to do that. Be sure I’ll do exactly that.” Y/n spoke to Kate’s back walking away. 

“I need to see if he’s really handsome indeed.” she whispered from the door leading to the storage room. 

“He is.” Y/n added just to mock her.

“Agh, you’re so mean!”

“Work, now!”

Y/n waited until Grace was far away to focus on Matty. He was still sitting on the sofa, now with a book on his lap but looking at the ceiling. She decided it was a good moment to approach him.

“Hey.” 

Matty got startled a little, too deep into his thoughts to acknowledge the sound of her feet approaching him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to…” Y/n felt sorry to scare him.

A big smile showed up in his face, changing all his demeanour. “Hey there. Don’t worry.”

“I couldn’t stop to notice- I mean, maybe you want a moment of quiet, and I’m disturbing you but…sorry.” Y/n grew self-conscious under his attentive eyes. “What I’m trying to ask is, are you alright?” 

Matty felt his heart skip a bit, “You’re the first person to ask me today.”

Y/n frowned, checking her clock. “It’s 3 pm.” she stated.

“I know.”

“So I assume this is not your best day.”

“Not at all.” he said, still smiling, contradicting his own words somehow.

 Y/n decided to change the subject.“What book you chose?” she pointed to the book resting unread. 

“Everything quiet at the front.” Matty read the title. 

“Uplifting I see..” she joked, and Matty laughed. The sound reached her ears and warmed her heart. 

“‘m sorry I didn’t say hello earlier.” Matty apologized. “Didn’t want to interrupt your conversation with the other girl.” his hand pointed towards the front desk.

“She’s my best friend and personal nightmare…Kate.” 

“Where’s she now?”

“At the back, she owns me a few favors so…”

“Mhm.”

“Well, I’m going to stop bothering-“ Y/n started excusing herself.

Matty interrupted, clarifying, “You never bother me, Y/n.” Her name coming from his lips felt different. 

“Good to know.” her cheeks were burning. Y/n turned around towards her desk but desist in the middle of the action. “Can I suggest you changing the book?” she asked, looking inside her tired eyes.

Matty gave her a signal, adding, “Which one you say is better?” 

“It’s a play in fact…’The Seagull’ by Chéjov. It’s also sad but easier to read, I think.” 

“Interesting.” Y/n felt maybe she should’ve kept her mouth shut. “I have to go now, sadly, but I’ll be back soon to read it.” Matty told her.

“I can pack it for you. Have one over he-“ Y/n’s mood lifted a little with the last part, proposing packeting it for him, although she interrupted her again. 

“No, I prefer reading it here the next time I come.” 

“Okay, suit yourself, Matty.” Y/n looked down, not really knowing what to do now. 

“I’ll see you soon, thanks. Say hi to Kate for me.” Matty scratched the back of his head. 

“Oh, that nice…for sure, I’m going to retransmit that.”

“Bye.” Matty lift his hand, waving at her from a few meters far from her.

Y/n followed his form, walked towards the door, and once outside get lost between the people coming and going. 

Kate showed up from behind the storage door, smiling wide at her friend. 

“If I wasn’t so stoked about one of my favourite singer of all times knowing… remotely… who I am, I’ll say that man is sad but down bad for the library girl.” she wiggled her eyebrows. 

“Stop bluffing and celebrate a little.” Y/n tried to distract Kate. 

“Y/n…”

“I don’t want to hear it!”

They had that conversations for months, almost a fucking year, and Y/n knew it as if was a play she wrote. Kate would insist about her dating again, she would say she’s not ready –which was the truth– and her best friend would be sympathetic about it even though she would keep insisting. 

“I saw pictures of that man in love…I know, a bit, how he is.” Kate tried to persuade Y/n. 

“Kate, you really don’t know him. I don’t know him far from Matty, the guy that comes here from time to time.”

“Do you want to know more about him?” she took her phone out.

“No.I don’t. I respect his privacy.” Y/n was pushing her away, closing herself. Both friends knew that. 

“You can’t wound me with this.”

“Fine.”

“Come on! Forget he's fucking famous…he's fucking hot, and he wants you-“ 

Y/n closed her eyes tight, “You don’t-“

“He does. I feel it.”

“Why you have to sexualize this?”

“Because it what he exudes, my love.” Kate placed herself at the other side of the front desk, where Y/n was trying to look busy with books and papers. 

“I don’t want to hear anything else, okay?” Y/n stared at her eyes briefly. 

“Y/n…I know that what you’ve been through is a lot to recover your heart from, but you know he’d want-“ the mention of his wishes angered Y/n, who pushed a book down with too much force. 

“No, I don’t. He never spoked about it because we were meant to spend the rest of our lives together, and then…” Y/n felt tears pooling in the corner of her eyes.

“Oh, my love…” Kate ran around the counter. “Come here.” she hugged her friend. “I’m here, I’m here. I’m sorry.”

“I can’t do it.” Y/n said into her shoulder.

“Okay, okay. I understand. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s too soon.”

“Mmm…it’s never too soon to have a new, famous and hot friend.” Kate tried to lift her mood.

Y/n snorted, “He’s hot.” there was no reason to deny it. 

“Right?! That’s a start! Baby steps…come on, girl! You can do this.” Kate took Y/n’s face between her hands, staring into her red eyes.

“Let’s get back to work, please.”

“Would you take me as an employee if I quit my job?”

Y/n titled her head, “You love your job.”

“But I’d love to see Matty's butt flying around.” 

“Could you stop sexualizing my customers, please?”

“No when they’re Matty fucking Healy!” she shouted while returning to the back.

*****************

Taglist (let me know if you want to be included): @indierockgirrl

[thefrontofmymind]

Appetiser 18+ (matty healy x reader smut)

SYNOPSIS: You and Matty are about to go out to dinner to celebrate your anniversary. But he needs an appetiser.

WARNINGS: matty eats pussy. that's it. this is 18+ if i find out a minor reads this i will end your bloodline.

A year. An entire year together. You honestly didn’t know how you managed it, but between Matty’s tour dates, your schedule, and whatever else the world threw at you, you’d make it through.

You wanted to make it special, so you pulled out all the stops, a record he’s had his eye on for a while, a decadent breakfast on bed for the two of you, you even got him a bunch of flowers–which he accepted with a heartfelt smile and a ‘thanks’. But now was the piece de resistance, dinner at the newest, hottest restaurant that everyone’s talking about–you practically had to beg on your hands and knees for the reservation but you got it, and you couldn’t be more excited. Not only was it a chance to eat a meal that’s received rave reviews, it also gave you a chance to really dress up. For Matty, all he had to do was wear a suit–his common uniform these days–but you rarely got the opportunity to do your hair, a full face of makeup, and it gave you the perfect chance to wear a gorgeous dress you’d found in a second hand consignment store months ago.

You laid on your bed in a towel, scrolling through your phone. You’d given yourself more than enough time to get ready, so you allowed yourself the small luxury of a ten minute scroll through Tiktok. You’d even gotten your nails done earlier in the day just for the occasion, you really wanted it to be special.

You heard the lock of your front door turn, followed by it’s regular squeak on opening, keys jangling as they’re dropped on the table in the entryway, and shuffling of shoes that got closer and closer and closer.

“Hey,” Matty said as he poked his head into your bedroom. He’d just come from an interview, so he was in his normal ‘Truman Black’ garb; dress pants, a white button-up, a plain tie, and his signature Ray-Bans. He looked comfortable, natural. His sleeves were rolled up to just below his elbows and he had his blazer slung over his shoulder–he always looked so effortlessly cool.

He threw his jacket on a chair you had by the door and threw his sunglasses onto his side’s nightstand, before lounging next to you on the bed, on his side so he could face you.

“How was it?” You ask, closing your phone and tossing it facedown on the mattress.

“Oh, you know, say old shit,” he answered.

Suddenly under his gaze you felt so bare, it even sparked a twinge of insecurity in you. As you spoke about your days, it only weighed on you more and more, and it manifested in neediness. Soon–almost subconsciously–your foot slowly began to drag up Matty’s pant leg, all the while you kept speaking as if nothing was happening. After a while, you saw his eyes darken–the penny dropped. In a flash his mouth was on yours and the towel that had been previously wrapped around you began to unravel.

Your skin felt like it was burning–even in the cold air–as he kissed down your neck, your tits, your stomach, and then to your thighs.

You could only manage a few mumbles words between heavy breaths as your skin began to tingle.

“What do you want?” He asked with a teasing chuckle. “I think I know what you want.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your pussy lips, then another, and another. You were writhing with frustration. His hands grabbed at your hips, wriggling to get into a more comfortable position. He laid in between your legs–separated so he could get the most view of you.

As he licked one steady stripe up you, a feeling of warmth flushed over you and your breathing got even more shallow than it already was. And when he began to suckle at your swollen clit, you practically fell apart. Within minutes of this, you were a complete moaning mess, and when his fingers got involved–two pumping in and out of you as he devoured the rest of you–you were very quickly reaching your peak. Beads of sweat pricked up on your skin and you could feel the blood rushing to your head.

“I-I’m almost-” You could hardly get out more than a stutter. “I’m close.”

At this admission, Matty kicked his actions into high gear and soon, you’d devolved into moans and pulling on the back of his hair as your release washed over you.

After a few moments, you came back to Earth and he stopped the light kisses he was placing on your pussy, and began to trail back up your chest, your neck, and gave your mouth a strong kiss. You could still taste yourself on his lips.

“Get ready, we can’t be late,” he said, standing up and going to the bathroom, turning on the shower and leaving you a breathless and dumbfounded at the man you’d loved for an entire year

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| Engagement ||

Matt Murdock x gn reader

Tags/warnings: mild angst, mild smut, meta, sorry not sorry I had to!!! 😂

As always, I adore and appreciate any comments, reblogs, etc and I'm extremely thankful to you for reading my fics!

~

Matt's arms tighten around you as you lie snuggled up together in bed. He can pick up on your disconnected mood from your elevated heart rate and the way he hears your breathing change every time you think about saying something and then stop yourself.

"You know you can talk to me, if something's wrong." He says quietly.

You take a deep inhale, sighing it out as you nuzzle into his t-shirt at his shoulder. "I know," you reply, choosing to ignore the invitation to unload.

He pushes a little harder in response. "Sweetie, you've been off for a while now, you think I hadn't noticed?"

"Urgh. It's stupid."

He turns his head to kiss you on the top of your head, giving you another squeeze. "I'm sure it's not, and talking about might help? If you want."

You huff out another sigh. "I dunno, I've kind of talked it over with others but it doesn't seem to make any difference. I'm not sure it's something I can fix."

Concern washes over Matt's features. "Is– is it something I've done? Or not done?" He gently takes your face in his hands. "Sweetheart, you'd tell me if it was me wouldn't you? I'd want you to."

You smile, bringing your hand up to stroke through his soft, messy hair. "Of course I would, and no it's nothing you've done, so don't fret."

The worry melts from his brow. "Alright, but c'mon, try me. I'm sure we can do something about whatever it is that's got you down."

"Well… it's work related. I'm not getting anywhere near as much feedback on my stuff as I used to. You know how in the creative sector we kinda thrive on others sharing our work to bring it to the attention of others? I've been feeling for a while now that the sense of community that we had has just sort of disappeared. People don't seem to want to interact that much with what we make."

Matt groans. "Baby, is this about the lack of reblogs on Tumblr again? "

You can't help frowning. "It is." You admit.

He smiles and rolls over to cage you underneath him. "I could make you forget about it, for a while at least?"

"Matty!" You push him off with a frustrated sigh. "Are you honestly trying to distract me with sex? You know how important this is to me."

"I know, I'm sorry. I don't mean to trivialise the issue, I just thought I could take your mind off it, maybe make you feel better."

"So kind and selfless of you…" you smirk as he starts to kiss along the column of your neck.

"I try." He smiles. "Anyway, you were saying? And I'm gonna keep kissing you."

"Fine. Okay, so I know that I should create for myself and not for other people…"

"But it's nice to get some recognition, right?" You nod as Matt holds himself over you again continuing to make his way down your neck towards your collarbones.

"Right. I really do appreciate the likes, but if people are just 'liking' my work without sharing it, that means it just ends up dead in the water. No-one else really gets the chance to enjoy it."

"Any idea why they are not sharing?" Matt asks, lightly stroking your side.

"I dunno, maybe they're not familiar with how the site works, that it doesn't have an algorithm? Maybe they're embarrassed to let other people see what they're looking at? Especially if it's something a bit risqué."

Matt hums. "Yeah but didn't you tell me before that they could just create a sideblog that's not associated with their main account, and reblog things they like using that and no one would be any wiser?'

"Exactly! And anyway, it's not like everyone doesn't enjoy looking at and reading porn…"

Matt lifts his head up, a slight sly smile pulling up the corner of his mouth. "Mm true. So what else are you sad about?"

You sigh again. You can't seem to stop yourself.

"Well, people aren't commenting on works either. There's rarely any discussion, I mean even just a manic keyboard smash would be amazing for an artist to see in their notifications, but there's barely even that anymore. Commenting on a stranger's fan works is so much fun, it can really bring people together!"

"That's how a great community grows isn't it?" Matt asks you.

"Yep, and you end up making so many friends you would never have thought. I miss that aspect of it a lot."

Matt's swiftly moving down to lavish attention over your chest, and you momentarily lose your train of thought as his lips brush over your nipple. "And have you brought people's attention to this problem?"

"Of course! Many other creators have explained why reblogs and sharing are so important in eloquently written PSAs, but I guess that the target audience must not see them because they're perhaps only looking at the stories and fanart from tags and they maybe don't see the other dashboard posts. I dunno."

Matt starts to lick an achingly slow intimate path down your stomach and you feel heat spreading throughout your body, your heart rate now elevated for quite a different reason. Then suddenly, he stops.

"Have you thought about maybe incorporating the message into one of your creations? Maybe that might reach the intended audience better."

You close your eyes as you consider the idea. He shifts further down the bed and you allow him to spread your thighs apart and slot his shoulders inbetween.

"Mm, well… that's- actually that's a good idea. I mean, it can't hurt to try, can it? You're the devil on my shoulder Matty."

"Exactly. But leave it till tomorrow sweetheart. Right now this devil wants to make you feel good."

You bite down on your lip as he flashes you a smoldering look before ducking down to make good on his promise.

[tokosparrow]

Hey! Idk if requests are open- if not feel free to ignore! YOU AND LIKE TWO OTHERS ARE FEEDING THE MATTHEW PATEL SIMPS THANK YOU FOR DOING GODS WORK-

Anyways! I was hoping to request a Matthew Patel x GN!Reader where like- Matthew has a bad nightmare and calls reader during the middle of the night because they had to go home for some reason- and it’s just super fluffy and comfort? It can be HC or a story up to you! Thank you 🫶🫶🫶🫶🎉

a/n: OOOOO ANYTHING FOR THE FOLLOW MATTHEW LOVERS >.<!! i also sometimes have the rare occurrence of having a nightmare and it could get pretty baaaad :<<

matthew felt himself shifting in his sleep as his dream became more unbearable. soon gasping as he woke up and sat up in a fear-filled sweat, breathing heavily as he felt his heart beat rapidly, feeling a bit of tears in his eyes as he felt his breathe feeling shaky. his hands searched before one hand landed on his phone, he frantically dialed your number before pressing his phone against his ear, still feeling shaken up.

“hello…?” your groggy voice answered after he heared just a few rings, being pretty reasonable since it happened to only be about 3am at night.

“(Y/N)….” your name was the first thing he managed to get out through his shaky voice as he listened to your voice.

“hey, matthew, honey, are you okay? do you want me to go over? did something happen?” you asked through the phone as you became a bit more aware realizing how distressed your boyfriend happens to sound.

“n-no! i’m fine (Y/N)…” he blurted out hearing the worried tone in your voice, “just had a nightmare, that’s all…”

he felt a bit embarrassed to admit it to you, but he felt more comforted just hearing your voice nothing less. he felt himself twisting strands of his hair as he slowly felt himself calm down from how shaken up he was a bit ago. “and i was wondering if maybe you could stay on call with me for the rest of the night?…please…”

“i wouldn’t mind that honey, i don’t want to leave you all shaken up like that.” you agreed as you heard his quiet plea, hearing a small sigh of relief from the other side of phone soon after, leaving a small smile on your tired filled face. “goodnight mattie…<3”

matthew felt his eyelids fall heavy as he drifts into a comfortable sleep once again, finding comfort in your tired spoken words and forgetting why he even woke up in the first place. he held his phone close to him as its become one of his current close things to you, he soon let himself yawn and speak out one last phrase before he found himself completely asleep.

“goodnight my dearest….<3”