#mads muses

[toomuchracket]

if you're too shy (office nerd!matty x reader fluff)

in which the other music journalist at the magazine you work at is the cutest weird boy you've ever met. enjoy <3

in hindsight, coming back from a two-week holiday the same day the magazine goes to print was a misguided idea.

your editor-in-chief tells you as much when you enter the office, pulling you into a half hug. “don't get me wrong, it's lovely to see you,” she says, scraping her hair back into a bun and securing it with a pencil. “but you'll be doing nothing all day, i'm afraid. maybe some last minute proofing, but i think everyone in nightlife and reviews has been alright. double-check with marianne.”

you do just that, weaving your way through people running copy and coffee between departments until you reach your own. it's mercifully quiet compared to everywhere else, the ten or so people dotted at desks around the sunlit room looking at their laptops and wearing headphones; you actually have to flick marianne on the back of the head to get her to notice you. “oi.”

“who the- oh, hi!” marianne's face softens when she sees it's you, and she stands to pull you into one of her infamously bone-crushing hugs before pulling back to get a good look. “well, you look annoyingly well-rested. but i suppose a fortnight in a spanish villa will do that to you. bitch.”

“i had a great time, thanks for asking,” you grin. “how’s everything been with you? stressful, without your star reporter?”

“well, for starters, you've been succeeded for that title.”

you frown only half-jokingly, scanning the room to try and guess which of your colleagues has replaced you as marianne's unofficial favourite. “who the fuck…?”

“language,” she lightly slaps your arm, in spite of the fact she was just about to say the same thing, then smiles suspiciously. “and i’m talking about our newest recruit.”

the brewing annoyance in your stomach dissipates immediately, replaced by a flock of tiny butterflies. “oh,” you try to keep your smile to a minimum. “that's okay. i like him.”

marianne sees right through you, though. she rolls her eyes. “oh, you would.”

“what?”

she sighs, motioning for you to lower your voice and modifying her own to a whisper. “he’s a curly-haired pretty-eyed vaguely scrawny white boy. you'd like him even if he didn't think the sun shone out of your arse.”

“marianne!” you hiss. “he does not!”

“don’t act all indignant, he has literally looked over at you once every thirty seconds since you walked in - and don't look, idiot, you'll freak him out. we need him on the ball, today of all days,” she rubs her eyes. “but yes, he’s very good at his job. i like him, even if i've no idea what in the world he goes off on his tangents about. great writer.”

“yeah, he is,” you risk a glance towards him, but all you can see is the back of his laptop - covered in stickers for things you can only name half of - and dark curls peeking out from the side of his headphones. “i like the references. different perspective from me, innit? that's why we hired him, after all.”

“who's we? you were too pissed off that i was hiring another music critic to agree to be part of the interviewing panel.”

you'd love to disagree, but you really were pissed when marianne and the other editors told you they were expanding the nightlife section. it didn't matter that it was in response to an increase in funding and readership, with the magazine switching to a print format as well as the online edition you'd contributed to since its creation - your fierce independence and pride meant you didn't take the news well, made you think it was an issue with your competence and writing ability that meant you'd be getting a new colleague. but once you were reassured that you'd still get to keep the Big Gigs and restaurant reviews to yourself, you were slightly more agreeable to the idea.

and once you actually met the new guy, stumbling over both his words and his own feet as he introduced himself, you couldn't quite remember why you'd been opposed in the first place.

“well,” you say, snapping back into reality. “thank goodness i'm over it now.”

“because you want to get under him?”

“no!” you stand indignantly, and then grin. “on top, maybe.”

“good grief,” your boss shakes her head. “don't you go bringing it up to him - excuse the pun - before this edition goes to the printers,” she points at you as you move to walk away. “or talking to him at all until then, actually, you hear me? i love you, but you're a distraction to him, and he's my best journo.”

“he's not, but alright,” you pat her head as you walk back towards the door. “i'll be in the staff room if you need me. and i won't talk to anyone, mum, i promise.”

“i'm only five years older than you!”

“whatever you say!” you reply in a singsongy voice, giggling to yourself as you wander towards the sunny kitchen. the little radio on the windowsill is on, as it always is, and you nod along to the cure while you wait for the kettle to boil. once you've made a cuppa (and grabbed a slack handful of the chocolate digestives marianne always keeps the cupboard stocked with), you settle at the table with your laptop, typing out ideas for your next feature and doing your best not to think about the boy down the corridor you've been instructed not to talk to for the time being. for the most part, you succeed.

that is, until he walks into the staff room two hours later.

you frantically wipe your face of biscuit crumbs as he does, smiling as sweetly as you can for someone with no idea if she has chocolate on her teeth or not. “hi, matty. how are you?”

“oh, hi! i'm, uh, i'm alright,” matty smiles widely enough that his verbal emotional downplaying is blatant - still, he's so cute, beaming at you like that with his little sweater paws. he’s always in a jumper or cardigan or hoodie of some kind, and on more than one occasion in the three months you've known him, you've absolutely thought about literally cosying up into him instead of doing any work. “how was spain? and the wedding - it was a family wedding you were going to, yeah?”

“that's right,” it’s not a big deal, but you glow at the fact he remembered. or maybe it's the soft intent he looks at you with. “it was lovely, yeah. although - wait, have we gone to print?” you ask, suddenly recalling marianne's instructions. “i'm not keeping you from work?”

matty's curls bounce as he shakes his head, light hitting off the metal hoop in his earlobe (that you're only mildly obsessed with). “we've gone. i'm just in here to get my lunch,” he pulls a tupperware from the fridge, cheeks rosy as he waves it. “made some soup last night.”

he makes his own soup. the thought is so endearing that it takes everything in you not to sigh; you settle for a smile. “carrot and coriander?”

“you can tell from one glance?”

you shrug. “s'my favourite.”

“really?” matty's face seems to light up. “mine too,” he busies himself with putting the tupperware in the microwave, taking his time pressing buttons and turning dials before looking bashfully at you. “so, you had a nice time at the wedding, then?”

“i did, thank you. do you, um,” you start, suddenly shy. “d'you want to see some photos from it, while you're waiting for the soup to heat up?”

he nods back just as shyly, sitting quite awkwardly on the seat next to yours; while you open your photos app, matty twists a stray curl around his finger, and the movement seems to send your nerves into vibration as well as the molecules in the air. with a series of shallow breaths, you locate the folder of the wedding pictures and set your phone on the table. “feel free to flick through them, if you like.”

“thank you,” matty sits forward, carefully swiping through the album. you lean on your elbow, doing your best not to beam adoringly at the way he looks intently at each photo before moving to the next. “the venue is really beautiful.”

“yeah, it was stunning.”

the next picture is one of you in your bridesmaid dress, taken by your sister the morning of the wedding. you watch, slightly heartsick, as matty's mouth falls open as he looks at you; the feeling worsens when he tentatively does the same thing in real life, those pretty eyes of his sparkling as he smiles softly. “so are you. really. like,” he looks down at the photo again, shaking his head slightly before looking back up at you. “that colour is beautiful on you. honest. you look incredible.”

“thank you,” the words come out in a whisper, and the two of you silently smile at each other for a moment until you clear your throat. “um, there are more of the official pics on my instagram, let me… actually, do you have my private account?”

“oh, no,” matty shakes his head again - god, you love the way his hair moves. “just the one for your writing.”

“well,” you tap on the app with an almost-imperceptibly shaky finger. “that's the username there, if you'd like to follow. no pressure, of course. don’t wanna fuck up your algorithms or anything.”

your nervous chuckle at the end of the sentence turns to a giggle when you see matty's face as you share your username; it lights up so much that you'd be forgiven for thinking he'd just won the lottery. he pulls his own phone out and taps away at it. “you don't have to follow me back, by the way,” his cheeks flush a deep red, a beautiful colour. “m'not posting anything interesting.”

doubtful. he might be one of the most interesting people you've ever met, all talent and sweetness and a wealth of cultural understanding wrapped up in a sweater and a pretty face. “no, i'd like to.”

“alright. thank you,” matty's cheeks seem to get even redder as he watches you hit follow back, face twitching as though he’s trying to stop himself smiling too big. when the microwave dings, he all but skips over to it, almost tripping over the leg of his chair in a sweetly awkward way; he swears under his breath when he lifts the steaming container out, turning back sheepishly to look at you. “sorry.”

“don't worry,” you grin at him, feeling slightly bold. “i still think you're sweet when you swear.”

he giggles, and the noise makes your heart leap; in addition to being one of the most interesting people you think you've ever met, matty healy is without doubt the cutest. watching his lips pout in concentration as he stirs the soup and checks the temperature, you briefly imagine what they would feel like against your own, how he would be if the two of you were to kiss. just as giggly and endearingly awkward as he usually is, you think - eager to please, lips and tongue a little sloppy and unsure but enthusiastic enough for you not to mind, slightly unsure of where to put his hands so as to not make you uncomfortable… the scene is as clear as day in your head, and you really, really want to recreate it. you'd devour him right now if you could, the sweetheart.

and then, matty reaches up to get a bowl from the shelf, the hem of his shirt goes with him, and your want to devour him suddenly takes on a less pg-rated meaning than it did a second ago.

he has a fucking hip tattoo.

you’re pretty sure it's only a sliver of the full design you can actually see, but the hints of red and blue and black ink and the glimpse of his happy trail are enough to fuck you up completely. as you register what you're seeing - what you're discovering about the seemingly buttoned-up, shy, unassuming-to-everyone-but-you matty - your breath catches in your throat, forcing you to cough quite obviously on the mouthful of lukewarm tea you'd just taken. one cough turns into another, and you clap a hand over your mouth to make your tattoo reaction attack the least obvious it can be.

still, the ever-perceptive man across the kitchen notices, running over to crouch in front of you with concern filling those beautiful eyes of his. “you alright, darling?”

darling?! no, you most certainly aren't alright.

but you can't tell matty that, so you stick to gesturing to let him know you'll reply once you've managed to swallow your tea. “i am, yeah, thanks. tea just, y'know, went down the wrong way.”

matty tilts his head. “you sure?”

“yeah,” you smile, slightly embarrassed. “really. thank you, though.”

“of course,” he smiles in return, knee brushing lightly against your leg as he steadies himself; he looks down, eyes widening as he registers how close the two of you are, and quickly stands. “i'd better, y'know, get my lunch.”

you nod, despite the strange loneliness settling into your bones at the lack of him next to you. “i can head back to the office, if you want peace?”

“no, no, please stay!” matty all but gasps, turning to look at you like a deer caught in headlights - he clears his throat, blinking a few times before speaking again. “please don't feel the need to leave on my account, i mean. or feel obliged to talk, really - i was just going to read.”

“you're sure i won't be a bother to you?”

matty smiles warmly, shaking his head. “that'll never happen.”

christ.

“okay,” you whisper, winking at him - and savouring the little giggle that bubbles out of him when you do - before turning back to your laptop. 

matty settles at the table a minute or so later, pulling a paperback from his back pocket and holding it open quite attractively with one hand. you peek over the rim of your laptop at him every so often, never for more than a couple of seconds at a time; partially to avoid the mortification of him catching you, but mostly because if you look at him any longer you know your mind will wander back to that fucking hip tattoo of his, and what it might look like completely visible to you, and what it might feel like under your lips, and what noises matty might make if you slowly dragged your tongue all over it before moving to the side to lick a wavy line up the length of his-

enough. he's literally right there.

the room feels hot, all of a sudden, your cheeks flushing and throat drying to match. on only slightly shaky legs, you pick up your waterbottle and head to the water fountain, crouching as best you can to fill it. even though he stays silent, you can feel matty’s eyes on you from across the room, but it doesn't bother you or freak you out in the way that other men ogling you at a water fountain would - it's quite obvious that matty has some sort of more-than-platonic affection for you, but his gaze has always been one of appreciation and awe when it comes to you, not the predatory one you've come to expect from men. and yet, his is the only male gaze that makes you feel slightly nervous, unused to being looked at with such reverence and tenderness by an attractive boy; in complete contrast, though, it also makes you lower your guard, pull down the bricks from the wall you've built around your heart, and allow yourself to actually feel something for matty, for once. something good, honest, promising.

matty looks up from his book as you sit down, smiling pleasantly. he opens his mouth as if to talk, and then closes it immediately, shaking his head slightly.

this intrigues you. “you okay, matty?”

“hmm? oh, yeah, i was just thinking,” his cheeks go a shade of pink you would buy in blush form if you could find it. “when you were first talking about the wedding… you said although, and then we got off-topic slightly. what, um, what were you going to say, if you don't mind me asking?”

“oh, right,” you wrack your brain, doing your best to not get distracted by how cute you find his perception. “i think i was going to say something about how, as good as it all was, there's nothing like a family wedding to remind you of how single you are.”

his jaw falls open. “you… you don't have a boyfriend? wait, sorry,” he blinks. “or a partner?”

you shake your head, biting the inside of your lip to stop yourself smiling. “no boyfriend, no. and thus, constantly advised by a never-ending flock of aunts that i should get one so i could get married.”

“christ,” matty winces. “yeah, my cousin's getting married in a couple of months - not looking forward to everyone asking me when i'm going to meet a nice girl and settle down, as if i can answer.”

no girlfriend. how interesting. “you're single? really?”

he rolls his eyes, still smiling at you. “be serious. course i am.”

“i am being serious! that surprises me,” you lean on one elbow, tilting your head to look at him. “you're lovely, matty.”

matty’s eyes widen, and he blinks adorably a few times before he smiles shyly again. “thank you. i think the same about you.”

“you do?”

he simply nods, total sincerity in those pretty eyes. 

you feel your cheeks warm, but you make no effort to hide it. “thank you.”

matty shrugs. “just telling the truth, darling,” he looks panicked when he realises what he's said. “sorry for calling you that, twice, it just-”

“i like it, matty, it's alright,” you say reassuringly. “and i like-”

“oh, thank god you're both here,” marianne bursts into the room, carrying her laptop; you frown petulantly at her for ruining your moment, but shuffle your chair round closer to matty's so she can sit at the table too. “something weird’s happening.”

matty squints. “what d'you mean by weird?”

marianne pushes her laptop towards you both. “there's overlap in your planned reviews - the band you're going to see at the end of next week, matthew, have just been announced as the opener for the next Big Gig. i need to know how we want to go about this.”

“oh,” he looks at you. “i don't mind if you want to just review them as part of yours.”

you're shaking your head vehemently before he even finishes talking. “no, that's not fair,” you tap your lips with your index finger the way you always do when you concentrate, trying to ignore the glow within your body when you see matty looking at them from the corner of your eye; inspiration strikes, and you turn to marianne. “matty could come with me, couldn't he? if he reviews their headline gig, and then he does a follow-up review of their opening set in the Big Gig feature - we could just do a joint byline, work together on it.”

both of them turn to look at you in slight shock. marianne is the first to speak, her words trickling out slowly as she processes the fact you've just agreed to let someone else work on a Big Gig for the first time. “you're… happy with that?”

“if matty is, yeah,” you turn to him, smiling. “sound alright?”

he beams. “more than. thank you.”

“of course,” you turn back to the boss. “there you go. sorted.”

she sighs, relieved. “thank goodness for that. alright,” she stands, picking up her laptop and heading back to the main office. “i'll coordinate press passes. thanks for making that simple - you're both stars.”

“anytime!” you call after her, before turning back to matty. “you're sure you're happy to do this? i realise i've just given you more work to do, but…”

he laughs, a beautiful sound. “nah, i don't mind. also,” he shuffles in his seat, bashful again. “i actually have a spare ticket for the first show, if you'd like it - bought it before i saw it was on the review roster. doesn't seem fair that i get to go to two gigs while you only get one, i think. i mean, no pressure, obviously, but the offer's there.”

god, he’s so fucking cute. how could you ever say no to him? “i'd like that a lot, matty, thank you,” you beam at him. “i think us working together is going to be a lot of fun.”

matty beams back just as enthusiastically. “i think so too.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #office nerd au #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

[hereyeswerefilledwiththestars]

HANNAH EFFING WADDINGHAM

#eurovision 2023 #eurovision #esc #mads muses

[toomuchracket]

and this is how it starts (flatmate!matty x reader smut)

this is quite literally day 1 of the relationship. like, condom-gate was mere hours ago lmao. also, someone said just thinking about flatmate matty and girlie literally just after condom gate and they're sitting on the couch and she's just kissing his neck and making out and he gets all flustered n floaty cos he's waited for this for so long 😕 maybe she teases him for getting hard so quickly and it's just sweet, i love them <3 so it's a bit of that too. enjoy <3

matty's not totally sold on the idea of there being a heaven, but his reasoning against it is weakening with every passing second. after all, what else could the situation he's in right now be, sprawled on the living room sofa with you on his lap and your lips connected? there's no other way of describing it.

he doesn't give a shit about description right now, though. or responsibility, or even time itself. all matty cares about is kissing you, softly moving his hands to rest in previously uncharted places on your body, and getting you to make those little whimpers that draw all the blood from his brain and redirect it to his dick. your hands weave into each other's hair, and an instinctive tug from matty has you pulling back and whining his name. he goes to pout at the removal of your lips from his own, but then you grind down harder onto him and drop your head into the crook of his neck; your lips meet the soft skin of matty's neck, and he can't stop the gasp that rips from his throat (or the hardening in his sweatpants).

holy fuck. in the many (many) dreams matty’s had about your lips, not once has he ever dreamt about them in this location. 

what a twat he is.

another choked noise leaves his mouth as your tongue joins the party, and yet another follows when you moan into his skin at the way he clutches desperately at your hips. before he knows it, you're kissing him again, licking into his mouth with such intensity he's half-convinced you're trying to eat him. and he'd let you - his brain and heart have already been consumed by you, after all. why not let you devour him completely?

your teeth sink into matty's lower lip as if you might, and he whines; you giggle against him, and switch your lips back to his neck before repeating the bite, albeit softer on the delicate skin, pulling another wanton moan from him. the pain turns to pleasure in his nerves and ricochets throughout his body so hard that he feels his dick jump, despite the haze of pleasure clouding his senses and brain capacity.

judging by the way you gasp and grind down impossibly further onto your boyfriend, you feel it too. he's aware of your lips peeling from him, and then suddenly your beautiful face appears in his eyeline - your eyes and hair are wild, your lips are swollen from, well, use, and you've never looked more enticing than now. then you smile, and matty has to retract his previous statement. “i didn't know you were so into neck kissing, matthew.”

he's not sure if it's the use of his full name (chiding, teasing, patronising) or the glint in your eye (seldom seen, slightly manic, so fucking flirty) that does it, but matty feels his cheeks flood with colour and heat. you lightly run your thumb across one with a satisfied hum, and matty momentarily forgets how to breathe; when the palm of your hand brushes his throat on its way down to rest on his chest, he almost shuts down completely. but he quickly recovers enough to speak shyly. “isn’t everyone?”

“yeah, but, baby,” you roll your hips slowly against his, groaning quietly as you do, and whisper directly in his ear. “it just got you so fucking hard.”

christ.

matty says as much as he throws his head back against the sofa, and you giggle. he cracks one eye open to look at you, all happiness-glowy and dishevelled in his t-shirt, and he can't help but smile bashfully. “don’t take the piss, sweetheart.”

“i'm not!” you laugh, then smirk. “well, maybe a little bit.”

“fucking knew it,” matty lightly smacks your ass, grabbing the soft flesh and using it as leverage to rock your hips against his. “mocking me for a normal reaction to a kiss in an erogenous zone, you minx.”

“ooh, big word.”

“i’ll smack you again, i mean it.”

“do your worst,” you grin, circling your hips. “although i'll be surprised if you can focus with that - oh, fuck,” your voice trails off into a moan as matty grins and latches his lips onto your neck, sucking a bruise into the lightly-perfumed skin and soothing it with his tongue.

he smirks as he pulls back to admire his work; for all he's dreamed about marking you up as his like this, nothing comes even remotely close to the real thing. “seems to me like someone can't take it as well as she can give it,” matty coos, cupping your jaw and running his thumb over your pouty lips. “that right, baby?”

without breaking eye contact, you flick your tongue against the pad of his thumb - when you hear matty's breath hitch, you slowly slide your lips onto the digit, down to the knuckle, tongue still flicking around it. he swears under his breath, dick harder than he thinks it's ever been, other hand clutching so hard at your ass that he wouldn't be surprised if it bruised. somewhere deep in matty’s mind, there's a little part of him wracked with guilt at the thought of hurting you, sweet, beautiful you, but that part is far overshadowed by just how badly he wants to be inside you right now.

thankfully, you seem to want that too; you release his thumb with a pop and a connecting string of spit, and look doe-eyed at him. he’s not sure if he's ever seen anything so erotic on his life.“no. i can take it, matty.”

something shifts in the air when you say that - it's as if the molecules have gotten heavier, dropping a delicious tension into the atmosphere and knocking all flirty banter to the ground. you're so close he can see himself reflected amidst the desire in your eyes. so close that your breath mingles with his own, hot in the crisp autumn air. so close, and, for the first time, so available for him to touch.

and, god, does he want to touch you.

“you can take it?” matty asks, caressing your cheek and smiling when you nod. “now?”

“please.”

matty groans. “you'll kill me, sweetheart,” he quickly kisses you, smiling into your lips when you moan. “let me take you to bed and you can show me how well you take it, yeah?”

you pout. “wanna stay here.”

“so do i. but we need to go and get a condom, darlin.”

“don't worry,” you lean back slightly and pull the t-shirt over your head in a way matty can only liken to unwrapping a present; he swears when he sees the lacy black bra you're wearing, your tits threatening to spill over its scalloped trim. when you see him looking at your chest, you grin. “like my bra?”

“very much.”

“good. been saving it for you - you know, in case we ever… got to this stage in our relationship.”

matty blinks as the realisation settles in his mind and body. he's so turned on it's almost painful. “really? fuck, baby, that's so hot.”

you shrug bashfully. “got a whole drawer full of pretty underwear i only want you to see. been thinking about this for a while. which reminds me,” you reach into your bra and pull out a small foil square, and hold it up triumphantly. “no need to go to bed!”

matty laughs slightly deliriously. “you had a condom down your bra the whole time? fuck, you really want me, don't you?”

“on this couch, specifically,” you lean in to softly kiss his neck again, then drag your tongue up to whisper in his ear. “dreamt about riding you on it since the day i moved in.”

shit.

his hips buck up at the mere thought, eliciting whines from both of you. “wanna make your dream come true - need it, darlin, need you.”

“fuck,” your hands scramble to pull matty's t-shirt over his head, then pull his face to your own for a searing kiss. it doesn't last long, though, with you soon pulling back to guide matty's hands to the clasp of your bra; he catches on to your ideas quickly, undoing the thing with ease and sliding the bra from your body, while you clumsily balance on one knee at a time to get your panties off. matty huffs out a laugh when you roll your eyes and leave the underwear to dangle on your left calf, and you smile and wrap your arms around his neck. “what?”

“nothing, you're just cute - sit up for me, darlin, so i can lift my hips, thanks,” he replies, shimmying his sweatpants down with a shit-eating grin. “so impatient to fuck me that you can't even properly take your underwear off.”

you raise your eyebrows and tear the condom packet open with your teeth. matty feels his eyes roll back into his head when you finally touch him, pumping his dick three times before rolling the condom onto him - you hum happily at the weight of him in your soft hand. “i don't think i'm the impatient one here, babe.”

you're not wrong. still, disagreeing gives him a perfect excuse to rile you up with a touch, too. “no?” matty tilts his head, sliding a hand across your thigh and between your legs; before you can react, he slides a finger along your slit, catching the sticky arousal and dipping into your dripping cunt. your reaction - a shaky whimper - is incredible, almost as incredible as matty's realisation that it’s him who got you into this state. “oh, baby.”

he smiles when you whine his name, but it drops in favour of a gasp when you replace his finger in your folds with the head of his dick. without breaking eye contact, you gasp too. “matty, can i…?”

“please, angel,” matty moans, hands trailing up to squeeze your tits before returning home to your hips. “put me inside.”

“okay,” you all but whisper. a beautiful smile crosses your face, the sun breaking through clouds. “i love you.”

the way you say that, so giddy… matty thinks his heart could honestly burst. he gently cups your jaw with both hands. “i love you too.”

you giggle, and matty feels your cheeks heat up. “i'm glad i get to love you openly now.”

“me too, darlin,” matty kisses you slowly, passionately, but so sweetly; he wants you to be able to feel how much he loves you through his lips. he pulls back just enough to speak clearly, foreheads still touching. “wanna be even closer to you.”

“hold my hips, then, please,” you murmur against him, smiling and kissing him again when he obliges. shuffling around on your knees for a second, you line matty up with yourself, and slowly begin to sink down onto him. the feeling is mind-blowing for both of you, it seems - matty makes a choked groan at how tight you are, and you whimper as he stretches you further with every bit of him you slowly take. “matty.”

he responds with a moan of your name, rubbing soothing circles into your hips while you take him to the hilt with a series of dazed blinks. despite the pleasure already clouding his brain, matty touches your face in concern. “you feeling alright, darlin?”

“yeah. just full.”

“need a second?”

you nod. “sorry, baby.”

“no, not at all. feels amazing like this, anyway,” he strokes your cheek, relishing the way you melt into his touch. “knew you'd look fucking gorgeous on top.”

at that, you clench around him - he's not even sure you're aware of it, but he has to focus very hard on keeping himself from moving inside you - and speak again. “have you thought about this a lot?”

matty nods, trailing his hand down to your chest. “oh yeah.”

“so have i,” you smile, humming contentedly when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and index finger - when he leans forward to take the bud into his mouth, you whine. “fuck, can i move now?”

“yeah,” matty moans around your tit, before pulling away and leaning back against the sofa. “ride me, angel.”

the sentence hasn't even fully left his mouth before you're obliging; the words trail into a raspy groan as you slowly pull yourself up and sink back down. his eyes want to close from the overwhelming pleasure of you fucking him, but he keeps them open because the sight of you like this is too incredible to miss even a second of. matty has no idea how many times he's dreamt of you doing exactly this to him, alone in his bedroom or hotel or tour bus bathroom, but every single fantasy pales in comparison to the real thing. after all, he couldn't have imagined the way your jaw trembles and your eyelids flutter every time he bottoms out inside you, sending an accomplishment high through his body that makes him feel better than any substance he's ever tried.

he has imagined the way your tits would bounce as you speed up your own bouncing on him. again, though, reality is so much better - not once in his dreams did you whine a plea while he tentatively touched them, or cry his name and clench around him in response to him pinching your nipples. the slight pain spurs you on, makes your hips move faster and wilder and matty's contract in pleasure, and he makes a mental note to remember the effect it has on you for future reference. 

like he'd ever forget any of this. matty’s never felt so good in his fucking life.

when he tells you as much, you beam, and speed up yet again. oh. matty smirks as best he can through the intense pleasure. “you like it when i tell you how good you are, darlin?”

“mhmm,” you nod shyly, adorably incongruous with the way you're slamming your hips down to meet matty's. “wanna be perfect for you.”

fuck. “you are, sweetheart. my perfect girl,” matty sits up to kiss you, and you whimper into his mouth at the slight change in angle of him inside you. he smiles, switching his lips to your neck. “what else do you want, gorgeous?”

“want - oh, fuck - want you to touch me,” before matty even has the chance to respond, you suck his right thumb into your mouth again and lead it to your clit. “wanna cum.”

and who the fuck is he to deny you what you want, especially after seven years of also wanting to make you do just that?

“alright, darlin,” matty smiles, jaw dropping at the way you tighten impossibly further around him as he starts working little circles into your clit. “shit, that feels good.”

“yeah?”

he nods. “keep going, angel. actually, just use me to get yourself off. whatever you need to do.”

your eyes widen. “really?”

“really. wanna see you cum for me,” matty lightly bites the inside of your tit. “used to make myself cum thinking about you falling apart on top of me like this.”

a glint of something flickers in your eyes, something matty can't quite name. “so, if i cum,” you breathily begin, still rocking your hips. “you'll cum too?”

“pretty much, yeah.”

you smirk. “alright.”

with that, you brace your arms behind you on matty's thighs, using them as leverage to fuck him as hard as you possibly can. he gasps, nerves beginning to tingle with the orgasm he's been both holding off and craving for a while now, climax creeping closer with every bounce of your hips and tits; he's mesmerised by you, your beautiful body practically shaking above him as you ride your way to ecstasy, and whines of his name and various swear words and “don't stop touching me, please” pouring from your perfect lips.

matty does as he's told, thumb staying put on the bundle of nerves between your thighs. remembering his mental note from earlier, he brings his free hand down on your ass and kisses away the cry you let out on impact. “come on, sweetheart,” he coos against your mouth. “give in. cum for me, my love, let go for me. make me feel good.”

he leans back to look at you - you look utterly fucked, eyes heavy and teary, jaw slack and lips swollen, but you're so beautiful. when you look at him (probably just as fucked-looking, to be honest), you smile sweetly, but it soon drops off your face as you rush ever closer to the precipice of orgasm. “matty,” you whimper, voice cracking from overuse. “i'm gonna cum.”

no four words have ever sounded better to him. matty holds your face with his free hand; you nuzzle into it, and a wave of love washes over him. “do it, angel.”

your head drops onto his shoulder as your hips fall out of rhythm, and you cry into his neck as your body jerks in ecstasy. matty cries, grabbing your ass and leaning back so he can fuck up into your pulsing cunt as his own orgasm hits. he holds you flush against him as he cums into the condom, then lets you gently flop down as you both recover with panting breaths.

matty's so hazy from pleasure that it takes him a minute to register the chaste kisses you're planting on his neck - you lift your head when he giggles breathily, smiling so widely he's sure your face must hurt. “hi matty.”

“hi, baby,” he kisses your nose. “i love you.”

“love you too,” you give him a little smooch. “loved that.”

“fuck, so did i,” matty sighs, grinning at you. “you're really fucking good at that.”

“only cos it's you i was fucking,” you giggle. “my need to make you feel good outweighed the burning in my thighs. would've tapped out, otherwise.”

matty rubs the offending body part. “will you let me take care of you in return, then? after you've endured the pain and climbed off me so i can get rid of the condom, that is.”

you nod, hissing as you pull yourself off matty's dick and flop onto the couch beside him. he kisses you quickly before he stands, slightly shakily, and removes and ties off the condom; you protest when he places it on the coffee table. “matthew!”

“what? i put it on a coaster. and i'm not leaving it there!”

“still! i don't want used condoms on my good coffee table, even if it's us that's used them,” you stare at him for a second, and then collapse into giggles. “new flat rule?”

matty cackles. “all condoms put in the bin immediately after use. right, hold it for a second, then - and don't give me that face, it was inside you!” he sighs as he bends down and scoops you - holding the condom between your thumb and index finger, mildly disgusted - up bridal-style into his arms. your face softens when he kisses your head as he carries you down the hall. “fancy a bath? it'll help your legs.”

“only if you come in with me.”

he hums, nudging the bathroom door open and setting you down on your shaky legs; you chuck the condom in the bin. “i like the sound of that.”

“good,” you lean up to kiss him. “now please leave the room.”

“what? why?”

“because,” you say, turning the bath's hot tap on. “i need to piss. in peace.”

matty pouts overdramatically. “but i don't want to leave you.”

“out, healy,” you point at the door as matty giggles; you kiss his cheek as he leaves, though. “bring a bottle of wine in when you come back?”

“glasses, too? or just share the bottle?”

you scoff. “you were just inside me, and now you're worried i have germs?”

he laughs. “i love you.”

“i love you, too.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #flatmate!matty #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfic #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

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drunk in love (d word matty x reader smut)

d word smut hiatus over, everyone cheer! inspired by a fun anon i got, takes place immediately after this blurb from last year. enjoy <3

matty's skin is warm under your lips, the salt from the ocean you both swam in earlier still lingering faintly. it's a nice contrast to the sweetness of the champagne you're currently sharing, entwined on a blanket on a deserted malibu beach, watching the setting sun.

once you're done kissing all over your boyfriend's palm, you continue your trail up his middle and index fingers, cheekily taking them into your mouth with a wink. matty giggles, champagne escaping the corner of his lip and dripping down his lightly-stubbled chin; quick as a flash, you stop sucking his fingers in favour of catching the liquid on his face with your tongue, savouring the heady taste of it and him before attaching your lips to his own. your brain is already fuzzy from the bubbles in the drink, and matty's lips and tongue certainly don't help it - when he finally pulls away to breathe, slowly releasing your bottom lip from between his teeth and grinning, you're actually woozy.

he brushes a thumb over your cheek, glowing in the golden hour light. “hi, baby. i love you.”

“i love you,” you beam. the words still feel unfamiliar on your tongue, but getting to say them rather than think them makes you glow as much on the inside as matty is in the evening sunlight. “and i love telling you that i love you.”

“me too,” matty kisses your forehead, then your nose, then all over your face, drawing giggles from your throat; with a chuckle of his own, he pulls you into his chest for a cuddle. “fuck, i love you so much. my sweet girl.”

there's no doubt in your mind that he means it. in fact, there's nothing in your mind except thoughts of matty, how much you love him, and how you wish you could stay in this moment forever, bottle the feelings and the atmosphere and cork it like the champagne in your hand.

you think it might be twice as potent as the alcohol, though. but maybe that's just him.

still holding you, matty moves to lie on his back; he twirls your sun-dried hair around his fingers while you shuffle on top of him to get comfy, smiling warmly when you look up at him. he’s so beautiful that it breaks your heart, all happy-tired and messy-haired and soft worn-out band tee, but the total adoration for you in those pretty eyes is enough to mend it again.

with a kiss to his chest, right where his tattoo is, you sit up, stretching as you take a swig of the champagne set into a little well of sand beside you. matty sighs, moving his hands behind his head and continuing to look at you lovingly. “you're gorgeous, you know that, yeah?”

your cheeks burn as you shake your head. “you're drunk, baby.”

“well, maybe a little bit. but you're still gorgeous,” he runs his hands down your bare thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. “i always think that. even when i'm asleep.”

“you dream about me?”

“yeah. a lot.”

“nightmares?”

“no, for fuck's sake,” matty huffs out a laugh, flicking you on the thigh while you giggle. “always good dreams, when you're involved.”

“that's cute, babe,” you trace a little heart on the strip of bare skin visible where matty's t-shirt rides up. “what about sexy ones?”

matty smirks, nodding slowly. “oh yeah,” you have no idea if he means to or not, but he slides his hands across the tops of your thighs, pads of his calloused fingers tracing patterns into the silky skin on the inside of your upper legs; it makes you shiver, in the most delicious way. “those dreams are my favourite.”

“really?” you beam, flirtily biting your lip. “what are we doing in them, my love?”

matty watches as you take another drink from the champagne bottle, his pupils dilating yet never breaking from your own. “well, sweetheart, a lot of the time… you're doing something quite like that.”

“oh?” you blink faux-innocently, flicking your tongue over the opening of the bottle. “like this… daddy?”

your boyfriend groans, shuffling beneath you to try and alleviate the obviously-growing hardness in his shorts. still, he doesn't break eye contact with you, even when you slide your lips as far down the glass neck of the bottle as you can. “jesus christ, princess,” he whines, watching you pull off the bottle and tip some more of its contents into your mouth. “c'mere. wanna kiss you.”

mouth still half-full of champagne, you lean down and let your lips be manipulated by matty's. he moans softly when the alcohol falls into his mouth, drawing satisfied noises from your own throat as he licks practically all traces of it from you - these noises only increase in volume and quantity when his hands slide down to grab at your bikini-clad ass, rocking you back and forth across the hardness below you. it's heavenly, actually, being like this with the man you love in a place like this, just the two of you and the day's last warmth of the sun and the soft crashing of the sea behind you. your head is cloudy, from both bottle and boyfriend, but the desire in your stomach is as sharp as it's ever been.

you need to get matty off. now.

pulling back from his lips just enough to talk, you take a deep breath. “daddy,” your voice is soft, eyes wide and adoring and trained right on matty's, just the way you know fucks him up to an insane degree. “please can i suck you off?”

“shit,” comes the shaky reply, your boyfriend's soft lips meeting your own once again before he talks. “right now, sweet girl? princess wants to make daddy feel good, right out on the beach like this?”

you nod, an involuntary rush of pleasure pooling in your bikini. “mhmm.”

“come on, princess, you can do better than that,” matty runs his thumb over your lips, pulling them apart. “be a good girl and use your words, yeah?”

“mkay,” you smile sweetly at him. “wanna make you feel so good, daddy,” you kiss down over his jaw and up his neck, savouring the little moans he can't hold back before you talk again - well, whisper directly in his ear. “wanna show you how much i love you.”

the noise matty makes in response to that is almost enough to make you cum. he gently guides your head so he can look at you properly, kissing you surprisingly sweetly given the circumstances. “love you, my perfect girl,” he murmurs against your lips. “go on, then, do whatever you want to me. m'all yours. always.”

you hum happily. “all mine.”

matty nods, forehead resting against your own, voice barely a whisper. “yours,” he gently taps your cheek. “let me get ready for you, darling, yeah?”

“alright,” with a final kiss to his nose, you climb off matty's lap, watching as he moves to sit back on his knees and then settling onto your stomach in front of him. this position was an accidental discovery, borne out of you being too eager to get your mouth on him to let him move to lie down, and it's now a mutual favourite; you can watch each other, it's quite comfy for both of you, and - most crucially - it's incredibly easy for matty to fuck your mouth if he wants to.

you hope he does, today. but you'll have to put some work in first for that to happen, so you gently tug down his shorts just enough to free his cock, enjoying the little whine from the man above you when you take it in your hand. eyes locking onto matty's, you let a line of spit drip from your lips onto the head of his dick, smiling at the way he breathes shakily when you slowly pump him. “will you hold my hair back for me, please?”

“of course,” matty does as you ask, swearing under his breath when you press a kiss to the tip as a thank you, wrapping your lips around and flicking your tongue over it just as you did with the champagne. “beautiful girl, so fucking pretty with my dick in your mouth. use it on me, princess, that's my good girl.”

and who would you be to deny him?

you start slow, shallow, savouring the salt of him on your tongue; it cuts through the lingering sweetness of the champagne in the most delectable way, and soon enough you're speeding up your movements, inching further and further down your boyfriend's dick with every movement of your head. and even if you weren't completely obsessed with the way he tastes, the way he feels… the noises he's making, those gorgeous whimpers and groans and whines of your name, they would be enough to spur you on.

the noises turn to proper dirty talk after one particular movement; when he hits the back of your throat, you can't help but gag slightly, and the feeling of it seems to drive matty insane. “christ, princess, love it when you take all of me in that pretty mouth. so good for me, taking me so fucking well.”

you hum happily around him, pulling off quickly to breathe and beam at matty before ducking back down and taking him fully, again. squeezing your thumb in your fist with one hand, you use the other to flatten matty's hand on the back of your head; he understands immediately, gently pressing you down to keep your lips at the base of his cock and his length in your throat. you gag again, despite your thumb trick, but you don't make any attempt to move - you love being like this, mostly because you know matty loves it. he looks down at you, pretty eyes hazy with desire, smiling lazily as your teary gaze meets his own. “fucking hell, princess, look at you,” he coos. “pretty little - breathe, baby, that's it - pretty little slut for me, aren't you? sucking daddy's dick on the beach, where anyone could see, dirty girl. fucking love it,” his face softens, and he softly wipes the tears from your eyes with his free hand. “fucking love you.”

your heart glows, and you pull your mouth off your boyfriend, gasping for breath but still continuing to stroke him as you refill your airways. pressing a kiss to his hip tattoo, you grin up at him. “love you so much. and i need you to fuck my mouth almost equally as much, daddy. please?”

“god, you're so fucking cute. my needy girl,” matty laughs, massaging your scalp. “and to think you were quite innocent when i met you - had never had good sex, and now you're begging me to fuck your face in public. mental.”

you roll your eyes, cheeks burning - not so much out of shame for what you're doing, but more out of embarrassment for how clueless about sex you were when you met him. “yeah, yeah. but you fucking love it, don't you?”

“i do. i love everything you do,” matty boops your nose, smiling. “being in love with someone tends to make you feel like that, though.”

“yeah, it does, doesn't it?” you kiss the head of his dick again, smiling at the way he giggles. “and you know what i love you doing to me, yeah?”

“point taken, princess,” matty weaves his hands into your hair. “you know the drill - three taps if it gets too much, alright? and please remember to breathe, my love. no dick is worth dying for, even mine.”

you sigh. “you're an idiot. i can't believe i'm in love with you,” readjusting yourself on the blanket, you smile up at your boyfriend. “ready?”

“yeah. you?”

blinking coquettishly, you nod. “yes, daddy.”

“good girl.”

matty's eyes don't leave yours for a second as he slowly thrusts into your mouth. he's beautiful like this, you somehow manage to think despite your pleasure-addled brain, jaw slack and pouty lips parted and chest heaving, looking at you like he wants to eat you alive; that last bit changes when he’s fully down your throat, though, eyelids fluttering shut as he tentatively begins to fuck into you. “oh, baby,” he practically whimpers, hips speeding up a little - involuntarily, you think. regardless, you moan, and the vibrations egg him on even more. “i'm not going to last long, princess. you're too - jesus - too fucking good at this. made for it, yeah? made for me, for gagging on my dick like the slut only i know you are. talk to me, angel. tell me who you belong to.”

christ. you're fucking soaked.

you move to pull away so you can talk, but matty harshly pushes your head back down; another bolt of pleasure gushes into your bikini bottoms as he does. “i didn't tell you to stop doing that, princess,” he murmurs. “are you so cockdrunk that you can't multitask anymore? aww, baby.”

“no,” you whine, the sound barely inaudible with your mouth already so preoccupied. “m'sorry.”

“then i'll ask again,” a sharp tug on your hair makes you look up at your boyfriend - imminently close to orgasm, you recognise. “who do you belong to?”

you do your best to reply as clearly as possible. “i belong to you, daddy.”

matty smiles. “fuck yeah you do, princess,” his hips stutter, as do his moans, signalling what you already knew - he's about to cum. “and whose is daddy?”

fuck, you love him so much. “mine.”

and that's what does it for matty - with a groan of your name, he cums down your throat, holding your head in place until he's totally finished thrusting through the climax. you slide off him carefully, keeping your mouth open and the white liquid on your tongue to show him before you swallow; matty swears as you do, swigging more of the champagne before pulling you up to kiss him, letting the sweet and the salt mingle between the two of you as he wraps his arms around your waist. your head is spinning, a mixture of breathlessness and tiredness and drunkenness and matty, but you know you'll be alright in his arms. safest place in the world, you think.

he kisses your nose when he pulls back. “thank you, my darling. that was… yeah, that was incredible. you were incredible, perfect girl.”

shrugging, you snuggle into his chest. “i just like making you feel good, angel.”

“you're really fucking good at it,” matty giggles, sliding his hands under the hem of your t-shirt and kissing your temple. “will you let me return the favour, sweetheart?”

“can i cash it in a bit later tonight, baby?” you look up at him a bit shyly. “might sound, like, cliché or cringe or whatever, but i kind of just want to watch this sunset with you right now. if you want to, that is. we can do something else if you think it'll be boring.”

matty looks at you so tenderly you think you might cry, an eye-crinkling smile spreading across his face. “i don't think i could ever find anything boring if i was with you,” he kisses you, chastely, but the love is obvious in his lips. “come on, let's cuddle.”

and you do, until the stars appear in the inky-blue sky, and you and matty have drank all the ones stored in the bottle - which, incidentally, you make matty carry you back to the beach for, after you both decide to go indoors, tipsily saying “we can't litter, baby. what if a sea creature gets stuck in it?” and almost toppling the two of you when you reach to pick it up.

he puts you down quite reluctantly on the decking next to the kitchen door, grumbling while you put the empty bottle in the waste bucket. “hate not holding you.”

“awwwwww, baby. s'just for a second, though,” you - with some difficulty, admittedly - gently turn on the hose hanging on the side of the house. “okay - ooh, it's warm,” giggling, you hand the hose to your boyfriend. “right. get me wet, babe.”

matty smirks. “done that already, i reckon.”

“nooooooooo, not like that,” you sigh. “i mean get the sand off my legs. can't go in all messy. s'not our house.”

“could be,” matty says, absentmindedly waving the stream of water at your calves.

“hmm?”

“i could buy it. we could live here,” he smirks as another thought comes into his head. “you could just wear those sexy little bikinis all the time. i'd love that,” his smirk fades into a dazed smile as he daydreams. the hose almost slips from his grasp, and the stream of water goes up too high and soaks your t-shirt as he fumbles to catch it. “oh, fuck.”

you shriek, the water sobering you up. “matthew!”

“sorry, darli- actually, no i'm not,” the smirk returns as your boyfriend takes in the white t-shirt now clinging to you like a second skin. “i am not sorry at all, fucking hell.”

“god, you're such a boy. give me that,” you frown, turning the hose on matty and rinsing the sand from his legs in seconds. “there. easy peasy.”

“you're not going to get me all wet? you know i love it when you do that.”

despite your annoyance, you grin. “take me inside and i might.”

“no need to tell me twice, darling,” matty scoops you up, bridal-style, and carries you through the french doors into the kitchen. with a kiss to your nose, he sets you down on the counter beside the sink, leaving you to flick the cabinet lights on while he closes and locks - with a little bit of difficulty, given his tipsiness - the door, before returning to you for another sloppy kiss. he tastes like champagne, even sweeter than usual, and you're mildly upset by the loss of it when he pulls back and raises your arms for you. “need to get this wet top off you, sweetheart. can't have my love getting a cold, now, can i?”

you giggle, letting him pull the t-shirt over your head and drop it into the sink. “take yours off, too? not that you're as at risk as i am, obv. i just think you're fit.”

he laughs, obliging you. “i love you.”

“love you,” biting your lip, you lightly drag your nails down matty's chest, hooking them in the waistband of his shorts and looking up at him as seductively as you can. “would it be possible for me to cash in that favour from earlier, baby?”

“i like the sound of that,” matty kisses you deeply, hands finding their way home to your tits and squeezing gently. “wanna go down on you first, though, if you'll have me.”

“yeah,” you whisper into him. “how do you want me, daddy?”

he smiles against you. “i want to bend you over this fucking counter, princess. how's that sound?”

shit. your bikini’s practically soaked through. “sounds so fucking good. thank you.”

“my sweet, filthy girl,” matty coos, kissing you. he gently lifts you off the counter and sets you down on the floor, stepping back slightly. “alright, you know what to do.”

with a quick final kiss and a whispered “i love you”, which is eagerly reciprocated, you turn away from matty and bend over the counter. the surface is cold under your bare chest, and your entire body trembles slightly; matty groans quietly at that, a sure sign his eyes are glued to your ass. without warning, he brings his hand down on it sharply, eliciting a moan from your lips and a matching “fuck” from his. “god, princess,” he murmurs, rubbing the now-sore spot on your ass. “you're so fucking hot. gonna make you feel so good, baby, alright?”

“mhmm,” you whimper, wiggling your ass in total desperation. “please, please, daddy.”

“relax, my girl,” there's the sound of movement, and you whimper when you feel his breath on your core. “let daddy take care of you.”

you've barely whined out an agreement before matty's tongue is on your clit, flicking over the bundle of nerves before licking a flat stripe up your cunt. you gasp at the feeling, a gasp that quickly turns to a moan when you feel him dip his tongue into you, groaning at the taste he's often told you is his favourite thing in the world; you never really believe him, but the enthusiasm with which he's utterly devouring you right now hints that he might not actually be exaggerating. his hands are warm, firmly gripping your ass to keep you exactly where he wants you while he makes out - there's really no other word to describe it - with your cunt. you're not sure whether it's drunkenness or tiredness or something else, but matty's sloppier than usual with his mouth, his usual precise (deadly) tongue flicks replaced with messy licks and sucks and grazes with his teeth.

it's not like you'll complain, though; he's still making you feel good, drawing half-screamed whines out of you every two seconds, and you can feel how desperate he is for you to cum, all over his face. and isn't that just the hottest thing of all?

you find it so hot, actually, that you give your boyfriend what he wants in an almost embarrassingly short amount of time. after what seems to be an attempt by matty to bury his entire tongue inside you, your body begins to shake, nerves sending bursts of electric pleasure into the pit of your stomach and lifting your heels off the ground slightly; matty smacks your ass again, a warning for you to keep still so he can finish you off properly, and you whimper. “need to cum, daddy, please, please. so fucking close, so so fucking close. can i?”

matty doesn't answer, but his mouth continues its efforts - your grasp on reality isn't too great at the minute, but you're pretty sure he gets even wilder, even more enthusiastic, licking up past your cunt and frantically sucking your clit in his determination to get you off. and he fucking loves it; in the end, it's the vibrations from him moaning into you that actually tip you over the edge, kinetic energy coursing back through your nervous system as you cry out. “yeah, yeah, daddy, m'cumming. oh, fuck me fuck me fuck me, please, so good, so fucking good.”

amidst your babbling and the orgasm still ebbing from your body, you're vaguely aware of matty pulling away from you, one hand leaving your ass as he pulls himself to stand - that changes about a second later, though, when he slides into you without warning and just thrusts. you smile breathlessly, cheek smushed into the counter, sighing contentedly. “oh, thank you.”

“so sweet for me, princess,” matty laughs breathily, his tender tone at odds with the roughness he's fucking you with. “i love you.”

“i love you too,” you whine at a particularly good thrust. “oh, fuck, daddy, please don't stop.”

“wouldn't dream of it, my love,” he presses a kiss to your shoulder blade. “you gonna be a good girl and cum for me again?”

“yes.” you aren't lying - already, your limbs are starting to tremble again.

“yes what?” matty fucks harder into you, hips slapping against your own. “who is it that's making you feel so good, princess?”

you gulp, eyes rolling back into your head from the overwhelming pleasure. “yes, daddy. s'you making me feel good, making me cum.”

the smile in your boyfriend's voice is audible. “that's my girl. c'mere, sweetheart,” matty pulls you up so your back is flush against his chest, still fucking you as he turns your head to look over your shoulder. “give daddy a kiss.”

you oblige eagerly, sloppily kissing him and letting his tongue explore your mouth. throughout it all, his hips don't let up, and the pressure in your stomach grows with every further movement. “m'close again,” you whimper into matty, moaning when you feel his hand slide down the front of your body to your clit. “so close.”

“yeah?” you boyfriend coos against your lips. “want me to make you cum, sweet girl?”

the pleasure is blinding, your vision literally blurring as you reach breaking point. “please, daddy.”

matty smiles, fingers frantic between your thighs. “go on then.”

his lips attach themselves to your neck as you tip your head back onto his shoulder, orgasm hitting you like a freight train for the second time in minutes. you wail a garbled mixture of your boyfriend's name and the nickname only you call him, throwing an arm back around his neck to keep him close while he fucks you as best he can through your climax, given that you're clenching so tightly around his dick.

once the aftershocks subside, you flop forward; matty stops you from clattering against the counter by wrapping an arm around your stomach and lowering you gently, hips faltering as he chases his own release. “shhh, baby, i know,” he murmurs, hand returning home to your hip and softly rubbing patterns into the skin. “so good, so perfect for daddy, princess. want me to fill you up?”

turning your face on the cold wood, you smile at him, completely fucked out - he doesn't look any better, you note, sweaty and tired and red and maybe the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. “mhmm,” you nod slowly. “love you.”

“i love you, so much - oh, fuck, sweetheart,” matty spills inside you with a groan, resting his forehead against your back as he slows to a stop. you can feel him smiling into you. “christ, i'm fucking knackered - well, actually,” pulling out of you with a hiss and a hushed “sorry, baby”, matty turns and lifts you to sit on the counter, angling your hips just so to avoid creating more of a mess. “reckon i'm awake enough to clean you up before bed, if you like.”

you card your fingers through his hair. “you really do so much for me. s'amazing.”

he shrugs. “what can i say? i love you.”

smiling, you pull him in for a hug. “i love you too. come on, let's go and clean up.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #d word matty #matty healy fic #matty healy smut #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty x reader #matty healy x reader

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if you're too shy, part 3 (office nerd!matty x reader smut/fluff)

oh nooooooooo, you and your hot sort-of boyf colleague are left alone in the office together, whatever are you to do? teehee! part 1 here, part 2 here. enjoy <3

matty looks so good right now.

the golden hour light streams through the office windows, totally illuminating him in a way that makes him look almost ethereal. leaning round the side of your laptop, you watch as he pulls his jumper over his head, messing up his curls endearingly and revealing those tattooed arms you've spent a lot of time in over the past two weeks, since that fateful night in camden; thinking back to a few nights ago, when one of those arms was tight around your waist and another was braced between your legs, diligently following your instructions, heat starts to pool in your lower stomach, travelling lower and lower until you're forced to clamp your thighs together just to stay sane.

your sigh echoes around the empty-aside-from-both-of-you office, the noise slightly louder than you'd intended. matty looks up, a sweet smile on his gorgeous face. “i know, darling,” he says softly. “just a little bit longer, yeah?”

the phrasing would be infuriating if you weren't totally sure he meant it in earnest. you nod, smiling back at him. “okay. you look amazing right now, by the way.”

“oh, stop it,” matty's cheeks redden quite beautifully. “come and sit with me, beautiful girl - need motivation to finish this conclusion.”

no need to ask you twice.

you put your laptop away and wander over, preening at the way matty looks at you with blatant desire. the lust in his eyes gives you an idea, sending another burst of heat to your core; once you snuggle onto matty's lap and give him a kiss, you speak. “so, you need motivation?”

“desperately,” he sighs, burying his head into your neck and lightly kissing the juncture of your jaw and throat. “i've only got a hundred or so words to go, but it's impossible. help me, angel, please?”

“alright, then,” you kiss his neck in return, smiling into the skin when he hums happily, and press little pecks up his cheek so you can whisper, sultry, in his ear. “as soon as you finish the article, i'll have sex with you.”

matty lets out a noise that can be best described as a squeak, turning to look at you, wide-eyed - if not for the obvious hardening in his trousers beneath you, you'd assume he was horrified. “are you serious? like, you mean,” he wildly gestures to the desk with his free hand. “we could do it here?”

“seems sturdy enough, yeah,” you quip, raking a hand through his hair. “you've never thought about bending me over the desk here? i have. a lot.”

“no, i, um, i've thought about that,” comes the sheepish reply. matty looks at you properly. “but don’t you want our first time to be, like, in a bed? somewhere comfier?”

bless him. you kiss him again. “honestly, matty, i'm less concerned about where than i am when. feel,” you take his free hand and slide it up your dress, across the seam of the lacy underwear you've all but soaked through; he swears quietly, looking down at you in wonder. “and that's only from thinking about you inside me.”

“christ,” matty groans into your neck. “well… wait, aren’t there cameras in here? won't we get caught?”

“none in range of the desks, just the - oh, fuck - just the corridors,” you reply as best you can while matty sucks a bruise into your skin, spurred on by the knowledge you can fuck without interruption. “but even if there were, i know how to localise the cameras and reset and edit the footage without anyone realising it's been changed.”

“i have literally never found you sexier.”

“you're an idiot,” you giggle, pulling matty in for a surprisingly sweet kiss - it soon gets dirty, though, as you move to properly grind down onto him and pull the neckline of your dress down. “how about now?”

in spite of the fact that he’s seen them a few times now, matty whines at the sight of your tits. like, actually whines. the noise goes straight to your panties, and you can feel matty get even harder as you grind deeper onto him to try and relieve your discomfort; he buries his face between your tits, moaning into the skin before trying to take one wholly into his mouth. he’s frantic, actually, hand coming up to clutch the other while his hips begin to jerk up into yours, syncopated and desperate.

oh, you’re going to have so much fun ruining him.

“matty, sweetheart,” you say, in a singsongy voice that morphs into a moan when his teeth scrape against the soft skin on the side of your tit. “fuck, matty, babe, don't get too excited just yet - you've got work to finish, yeah?”

“i'll do it later,” his reply is muffled by your chest.

you pull his hair sharply - not enough to be agonising, but enough to make him look up at you; he looks fucked, cheeks rosy and eyes wild, and you're obsessed with it. but still, you can't let him get away with not listening to you. “but that wasn't the deal, was it, angel?”

matty sighs. “no. m'sorry.”

“good boy,” you kiss his forehead, smiling into him as he whimpers in response to the praise, and readjust yourself so you're sitting on his lap rather than straddling it. when you snuggle into him, pulling your dress back up, he kisses the side of your head, and your heart flutters. “i'll still sit with you while you finish writing, though.”

“thanks, angel.”

your motivational idea seems to work - it only takes matty ten more minutes to finish the article, fingers flying across the keys and pretty lips mouthing the words as he types them. you love watching him work, always have; the intensity in his eyes is magnetic, and flitting your own between his face and lips and hands is only continuing to turn you on. you could have grinded on him again, worked yourself up to tease him, but no. you'll wait, and you'll get off together.

what a delicious thought.

“there. done,” matty hits ctrl-s and exhales, nuzzling into you. “was you proofing part of the deal, or…?”

“nah,” you kiss his head, turning it gently so you can kiss him properly. “i'll just look at it when we get home.”

he smiles dreamily, which is also how you feel about the thought of domesticity together. “i like the sound of that.”

“so do i,” you move to straddle him again, kissing him deeply and grinding down onto him even more so. “you know what else i like the sound of?”

“what’s that?”

you grin. “you fucking me.”

“shit,” matty kisses you hungrily, deeply, sloppily; a trail of spit connects your mouths even as he pulls away, manic. “how do you want me?”

“oh, in so many ways,” you aren’t lying. “but right now… i want to look at you, while you fuck me on this desk. how does that sound?”

he closes his eyes, gulping as he nods enthusiastically. fuck, he’s so pretty. “that- yeah, that sounds good. great! it sounds great. really.”

“yeah?” god, you’re such a bitch for teasing him.

he doesn’t notice, though. “yeah,” matty smiles shyly. “thank you, darling. i really like making you feel good.”

your heart flutters, and all you can do is pull him in by the collar of his shirt and crash your lips onto his. desire practically seeps out of you both, but it’s accompanied by something tender, affectionate - you’re not sure what, exactly, but you like it.

actually, you’re not really sure of anything at the moment, except how badly you need him. you tell matty as much, murmur it into his mouth like it’s gospel, and he practically faints. “alright, sweetheart, alright,” he shakily exhales into your mouth. “let me get you ready.”

before you can snarkily rip him for getting you ready when he’s all but on the edge of climax already, matty’s lifting you up, kissing you as he gently - goosebump-inducing gently - lays you on your back on the desk. the wood is cold against your skin, despite the heat, but it’s nice; what’s even nicer, though, is the way matty fumbles for his discarded jumper and lays it under your head. he looks at you carefully, big beautiful eyes travelling all over your face (surely blushing, looking up at him all gormless and lovesick) to determine how you’re feeling. “is this okay?”

you nod, slightly too overwhelmed to speak. shit. you’re supposed to be the one doing the flustering.

(secretly, you don’t mind the way he’s treating you. not one bit.)

“good,” matty beams. a split-second later, his cheeks are rosy again. “can i, um, can i… look at your boobs again, please?”

“if you unbutton your shirt, yeah - s’only fair, isn’t it?”

he obliges immediately, fingers shaky as he reveals his bare skin. your eyes follow the undoing of the buttons, core pulsing with every new tattoo or muscle group or section of happy trail revealed, and your own fingers work to slide the cap sleeves of your dress down your arms and push the neckline almost to your stomach. the sun-soaked room isn’t cold, but your nipples harden as soon as they're freed from fabric, out of nothing more than sheer arousal. 

matty moans when he looks at you, big hands immediately brushing over your chest so he can lean over and kiss you - as he does, you wrap your legs around him and do the best you can to grind onto the rock-hard bulge in his trousers. he whines into your mouth, sliding his hands back down your body to clutch at your hips and do some grinding of his own. one particular movement hits your clothed clit, and he groans into you in response to your whimper. “please, please can i fuck you now? need it, my girl, need you so fucking badly.”

“yes,” you whisper, just as desperately. lifting your hips slightly, you move matty's hands to rest on them on the fabric of your underwear. thankfully, he catches on quickly, and pulls them off you, laying them carefully on the chair; you would think the action was endearing if you could think about anything except the way the cool air hits your soaked cunt, reminds you how turned on you are. “come on, matty,” you spread yourself even further open for him, loving his expression of wanton desire. “need you inside me, sweet boy”.

“yeah,” without taking his eyes off you, matty undoes his trousers, pulling them and his boxers down slightly to free his dick. saliva pools in your mouth as you watch him pump it, memories of being both joyfully surprised at the sheer size of it and determined to take it all down your throat last week flooding back - they're completely overridden by the present, though, specifically matty holding himself with one hand and gliding the other down your slit. “jesus christ. can i, you know…?”

you smirk. “can you what? need you to use your words, be a good boy.”

his face goes scarlet. “can i…” he trails off again, breathing shakily.

“matty.”

“fuck, m'sorry, darling, m'sorry - just keep getting distracted by how gorgeous you are,” coming from anyone else, that line would make you scoff, but earnestness practically drips from matty's words. he smiles as you stroke his face, sighing. “right. can i- can i get inside you?”

for the briefest of seconds, you allow your controlled façade to drop, pleading just so he knows how much you want him. “please, angel. need you to fill me up.”

after leaning down for a soft kiss, matty does just that, slowly pushing into you to a soundtrack of quiet gasps from both your lips and his. you're thankful of the slow pace he moves at, probably to keep himself calm - he's so big that you're practically breathless from the time he's half-in, your body rearranging itself just to take him in the most deliciously painful way.

once he's bottomed out, matty stops moving completely, in favour of putting his hands over his face and breathing heavily. you blink, concerned, doing your best to sit up on your elbows without moving too much. “matty, sweetheart,” you coo. “are you alright?”

“mhmm,” comes the muffled response. he drags his hands down his face, smiling shyly at you when you become visible to each other. “just give me a second - s'been a minute since i did this.”

“of course. i like how this feels, anyway,” you reach up to stroke his face, beaming when he nuzzles into you. “and, if i'm honest, i'm kinda upset that you have actually done it before,” you giggle, only half-joking. “wish it was only me, and you were all mine.”

matty smiles. “well, that's kinda true - you're the only person i've ever done it with that's actually mattered.”

your heart flutters again. “sweet boy. how are you feeling?”

“good. i, um, i think i'm ready.”

music to your ears. “okay. fuck me, then, matty.”

“alright. thank you.”

the tenderness of the whispered reply makes you smile, cheeks almost sore from how wide you beam; as he pulls out and thrusts back into you, they widen in another direction, jaw dropping at the feeling. “shit, matty, just like that.”

“yeah?” matty repeats the motion, over and over and over, eyes rolling back in his head as you clench around them. his jaw is slack, curls beginning to stick to his forehead as he fucks you slowly, cheeks pink. you don't know if you've ever seen anything more beautiful - before you can tell him, though, he speaks. “is this good enough for you? what else do you need me to do?”

what a sweetheart he is.

“you're perfect, angel,” you stroke his smiling face, heart leaping when he turns to kiss your palm. “if you want to, you can speed up, yeah? do what makes you feel good. been so sweet of you to learn what i like, i wanna return the favour now.”

he nods, eyes closing as he takes your advice with a throaty groan. whether it's the noise or the faster pace he's fucking you at, you don't quite know, but you whine in response, sliding a hand into his hair and tugging. matty moans again, blinking dazedly at you. “i like that.”

“when it hurts a little bit?”

“mhmm.”

“alright,” you move your other hand under his shirt to clutch at his back, digging your nails lightly into the soft skin and dragging them downwards. “that?”

“fuck,” he whimpers, hips speeding up yet again. you gasp at the feeling, another gush of pleasure starting between your legs; in response, you clench, and matty swears again. “god, you're so wet.”

“all for you, matty,” you lean up to kiss him, a sloppy meeting of lips and tongues interspersed with moans; pulling back to breathe, you whisper into him. “tell me what else you like.”

he kisses you again, still pounding into you - somewhere deep in the recesses of your pleasure-addled brain, you thank all that's holy for the editors’ interior design decision to buy extremely sturdy desks and not have them against any walls. “i like you.”

“yeah?” you smile, moaning at a particularly good thrust. “you like - fuck - you like the way it feels inside me, inside this pretty pussy?”

“yeah.”

“i like it, too, feeling you inside me,” you kiss his neck, licking up over his jaw and kissing his cheek before whispering in his ear. “does it feel good, fucking my tight little cunt? never had anyone as big as you, sweetheart, fucking love it. you've got me fucking dripping.”

“feels so good, so fucking good,” comes the breathy reply. “perfect girl, perfect pussy. wanna - shit, oh my god - stay inside you forever.”

matty's hips are faltering ever so slightly, the rhythm dropping a sign that he's reaching the finish line. you decide to help him get there, gently sucking a mark into his neck and murmuring into the sweaty skin. “you can cum there, if you like.”

the whine he lets out is almost enough to make you cum. “is that alright with you?”

“of course,” you press a little kiss to his cheek. “want you to fill me up, angel. been such a good boy for me, you deserve it.”

“thank you,” matty leans round to kiss you properly. “please can i get you off, too?” wanna touch you, make you feel good.”

“you remember what i showed you?”

he nods, shifting weight onto one arm and waving his thumb at you. giggling, you take it into your mouth, flicking your tongue over the pad before releasing it with a pop and speaking. “fast, but not too firm, alright?”

“yeah,” watching you intently, matty leans back to look down intently between your legs, bringing his thumb to the juncture between them. it takes him a couple of swipes to find what he's looking for, but your body jerks so obviously when he touches your clit that it's obvious he's made his discovery. still fucking you a bit haphazardly - in a good way, mind you - he rubs tight little circles onto the bundle of nerves, just the way you like it. “that good for you, darling?”

the pleasure from the double stimulation is so overwhelming you can barely speak, clouding your brain and tightening both your vocal chords and your cunt; it's matty's whine at the latter that triggers a response from you, a matching wanton moan that by some miracle forms itself into a phrase. “yes, god, don't stop.”

“m‘kay,” matty's eyelids are drooping above you, but he smiles enthusiastically. “feel like i'm dreaming.”

“oh, my sweet boy,” you pull him down for a kiss, grinning against him at the whimper that escapes him when you bite his lower lip. “see? this is real.”

he giggles, gently kissing you in a way that's at total odds with how intensely he's fucking you. “i'm getting close, sweetheart. are you…?”

“yeah,” you aren't lying, either - pleasure is really starting to fizz up in your stomach, making your legs shake as they're wrapped around matty. “keep doing what you're doing, angel, keep being my good boy.”

the praise spurs matty on, keeps him fucking into you determinedly even as he crumbles completely above you. “oh, fuck,” he moans, skin slapping against yours as he chases release for both of you. his thumb stays circling your clit, bubbles of ecstasy rushing through your body every time he does - you're definitely getting close, pleasure building up to breaking point in your stomach more and more by the millisecond, and your heavy eyes and shaking body make that obvious to the perfect man above you. he kisses your nose. “you're close, too, aren't you?”

“mhmm,” you clutch him even tighter, desperate to keep him like this, keep him making you both feel good. “you gonna make me cum?”

“fuck, yes.”

and he does. how he staves off his own orgasm, you have no idea, but matty's dead-set on getting you off before he can; he fucks you through shaking legs, working your clit as well as if he'd been doing it for years and not days, forehead pressed to yours in such an intimate way that you could cry if you thought about it for too long. he looks fucked above you, but so fucking beautiful - when the pleasure inside you cracks and surges out into the rest of your body, sending wails of his name out of your lips, you're not quite sure if it's just because of the sex, or if there's another emotion or two behind it adding to how good you feel.

but you don't have time to dwell on that, though, before matty's whimpering about his own climax against your lips. “m'gonna cum, oh my god, shit, sweetheart, m'gonna cum, please, please let me cum.”

“good boy, my perfect boy,” you're still spacey after cumming yourself, but the hand still in matty's hair is tethering you somewhat. “cum for me, matty. fill me up.”

with perhaps the single sexiest noise you've ever heard, matty does just that, burying his head in the crook of your neck while he finishes, hot and deep, inside you. “oh, thank you,” he whispers into your skin, panting bodies still clinging together as you come down from your high. “jesus christ.”

“did you like that?”

matty laughs, leaning back to look at you. “that's an understatement, darling. it was perfect,” he strokes your sticky cheek, looking tenderly at you. “you're perfect.”

“back at you, sweet boy,” you kiss his nose, then his lips - a sweet kiss, nothing like the sloppy mid-sex makeouts you just had. “thank you for being so keen to make me feel good.”

matty shrugs, bashful. “i like that bit most of all.”

“oh, he’s cute!”

“i try,” he giggles. with a final kiss to your nose, he leans back. “am i alright to, like, pull out now?”

“of course,” you sit up on your elbows as he does, wincing at the sensation (and lowkey mourning the loss of him inside you). matty crouches to look at his cum dripping out of you, face so awestruck you can't help but giggle. “good view?”

he blushes, smiling shyly up at you. “the best,” carefully, he brings two fingers to your core, gathering up most of the white liquid and looking at it in wonder; his gaze then shifts to you, cheeky. “i mean, you're kinda clean now.”

you roll your eyes, but smile. “c'mere,” when he obliges, you take his fingers into your mouth, sucking the cum from them and swallowing with a satisfied hum. “look at that - both clean!”

“oh, that was underhanded,” matty kisses you deeply, tongue licking into your mouth before he pulls back. “but you're so beautiful that i'll let you get away with it.”

you swing your legs happily, pulling your dress back up over your chest. “thanks, angel.”

“m'serious, by the way,” matty reaches for the tissue box on the opposite desk and then your discarded underwear, crouching again to wipe you clean and slide the fabric up your legs. “most beautiful girl in the world.”

“your girl.”

he hums happily, cleaning himself off and tucking himself back into his boxers, leaning down to kiss you while he zips up his trousers. “mine, all mine. now, let me just,” he lifts you up and sets you on another desk, wiping the one you just vacated as best he can with a dry tissue. you bite your lip to keep from laughing at how endearing he is, and smile sweetly at him when he turns back around; that soon turns into a shriek when he scoops you up bridal-style. “right. let's go home.”

***

“are you sure i didn't leak onto the seat there?” you walk backwards up the hall towards your flat, looking at matty. “i was so panicked the whole drive.”

he rolls his eyes. “sweetheart, for the millionth time, there's no cum on the passenger seat. not that i'd have minded if you ruined my car like that, though. s'kinda hot.”

“you kinky little bitch,” you snort, unlocking the door and stepping inside; the scrambling of tiny paws across wooden floors becomes audible as soon as you do. “and speaking of little bitches…”

“don't call her that!”

“oh, stop it, i'm being literal - hi, maggie!” you crouch as your border collie puppy comes into view, bounding towards you excitedly - annoyingly, she passes you without so much as a lick hello, and goes straight to matty. “oh, for god's sake.”

he laughs, letting her lick all over his face before scooping her up like a baby and cooing at her. “maggie-moo! did you miss me? yeah, course you did. more than you missed your mum?”

“matthew.”

“sorry, darling,” he wanders over to kiss your head, kicking the door shut behind him. “i still can't believe you waited until we started dating to tell me you had the cutest puppy of all time. imperative information, that.”

“still pulled you without her, didn't i?” you quip, wandering down the hall to dump your and matty's bags on your bed, the two Ms in tow. “and you only think she's the cutest because she's sweet to you. she's a total terror, otherwise,” you pet maggie's little head. “i think she might've inherited that from me.”

matty giggles. “well, i'll take you both being sweet to me. yes, mags, i will!” he scratches her under the chin, and her little eyes close as she stretches; within seconds, she’s fast asleep, and he awws. “i'll put her down in the living room.”

“thank you, angel,” you kiss maggie's head, then matty's, and wander into your bedroom to get changed.

matty follows behind a minute later. “i can take her out later before we go to bed… oh my god, darling, i'm so sorry for bursting in on you like that,” he goes bright red when he sees you're only in your panties. “i can wait a second, let me just-”

you cut him off with a giggle, walking to him and kissing his nose. “you literally creampied me not even an hour ago, and you're flustered by walking in on me changing? god, you're so cute.”

“oh, shush,” matty hides his face in your hair, wrapping his arms around you. “i've forgotten what i was going to say now.”

“sorry, angel,” you stroke his hair. “while you think, do you want to have a shower with me? and then we can order some food?”

“really?” his voice is full of wonder. “yeah, i’d like that. thank you.”

your heart glows. you take his hand and lead him next door to the bathroom, turning the shower on and adjusting the temperature as you speak. “no need to thank me, matty. just doing my girlfriend duties, you know.”

there’s silence for a second. then you realise what you said, and panic sets in - your blood runs ice-cold, and you turn to an undressing matty with a horrified gasp. “i am so sorry, matty, i don’t know why i-”

“darling, it’s alright,” matty steps out of his trousers and kisses your head. “i’d quite like to refer to you with that title too, if i'm honest. and, you know,” he rubs the back of his neck nervously. “if you want to call me your boyfriend… i'd be very honoured.”

he's so adorable that you have to genuinely hold back a scream. so you merely beam at him, and kiss his hand. “follow me. we can start your designated boyfriend role of washing my back for me right now.”

in complete contrast to the desperate, fast-paced sex of earlier, your first shower with your boyfriend (!!) is languid, romantic, saccharine-sweet. well, there are several deep kisses, and both yours and matty's hands do linger on parts of each other's bodies that may be considered impolite by some, but there's no real lust behind it - none more so than usual, that is - just a curiosity, a fascination, and a want to hold each other as tight as possible. that easy comfort around each other lingers the whole night, through ordering and eating pizza, curled up on the sofa watching the young ones while maggie does her utmost to get the discarded crusts for herself; through sharing a cigarette in the communal garden while the puppy does her business and runs around to tire herself out; through brushing your hair at the vanity in your bedroom before you go to sleep, matty sprawled on the bed and watching you with adoring interest while maggie sleeps on her bed under the window.

while you're putting your hair into its bedtime braids, he wanders over to the record player in your room, looking at the empty sleeve on the table next to it before lifting the lid and peering at the disc. “melodrama? i haven't heard this in ages.”

you turn in your chair, smiling. “but you know it?”

“of course.”

“good,” you walk to matty, kissing the back of his neck. “it's maybe possibly my favourite album of all time.”

“really?” he turns in your hold, resting his elbows on your shoulders. “tell me about it.”

“okay. better get comfy,” you tug him to your bed, climbing in and flicking the bedside lamp off; your boyfriend climbs in too, face illuminated by the faint moonlight peeking through the thin curtains. “you know that it's set over the course of one night, right? at a house party?”

“is it?” even in the low light, you can see matty's brow furrow. “but it's so… far-reaching, i would say, emotionally.”

“yeah, it is, the house party is just a narrative framework to focalise it, i s'pose,” you yawn. “and i don't know if she’s ever confirmed it, but i think all the fadeouts on the album have a purpose - they all seem like they're a means of marking the end of a step in the relationship cycle she's singing about. like, the one at the end of the louvre is the end of the ‘rush at the beginning’ she sings about, because then the album goes into liability and hard feelings/loveless, so the heartbreak section, and there's a fade out at the end of loveless, too. you get me?”

“i get you, darling,” the smile in his voice is audible.

“cool. all in all, there are five stages to the cycle, and it repeats between green light and sober; so, the first song on the album is chronologically last in breakup terms,” you rub your eyes. “which is kinda genius, because then the house party framework is really clear. like, you start the night by going out, but you also end your healing journey by doing the same thing, getting back out there and all that. it's so amazing. and the songs are all good,” a beat passes, then you giggle. “sorry for just rambling on about melodrama right before we go to sleep, sweetheart.”

“nah, i loved it. makes a nice change to be the one listening, for once,” matty laughs breathily, stroking stray hairs from your face. “i like listening to you talk like that - like it when you do anything, really.”

“back at you,” you lean in to kiss him softly, sliding your arms around him. “i'm really happy you're my boyfriend, by the way.”

“so am i, darling,” matty yawns, nuzzling his head into your chest. “shall we get some sleep?”

“sounds good. what are our plans for tomorrow?”

“oh, yeah, that's what i forgot i was gonna say earlier,” he tilts his head to look at you, eyes heavy with sleep. “we could maybe take maggie for a walk at the park near my house, if you like, and i could make us some dinner afterwards.”

“will you make me soup?”

matty laughs, kissing your bare skin. “of course i will. whatever you want.”

“alright,” you smile, going back in for yet another kiss. “it's a date. goodnight, angel.”

“night, sweetheart. see you in my dreams.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #office nerd au #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy x reader #matty x reader #matty healy smut

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birthday sleepover (office nerd!matty x reader smut)

final day of matty35!! happy birthday to my favourite boy. have a fic about watching star wars and shagging afterwards to celebrate!! enjoy <3

“why did we need to rewatch the ending of return of the jedi on dvd? i thought i was doing a good thing cueing them all up on demand for you coming over.”

“no, you were, darling, i appreciate it so much, but i really need to show you this bonus feature,” matty kisses your head, before abandoning you completely to stand next to the tv and gesture to the force ghosts appearing to luke skywalker onscreen. “look - different anakin.”

you squint. “what? how?”

“they retconned the digital edition for continuity - added the guy from the prequels to the dvd box set release in 2004,” your boyfriend explains, eyes lighting up in that adorable way they do when he’s passionate about something; naturally, it’s how he looks at you, most of the time. “that’s the original guy, there. same guy who played unmasked vader in the him and luke reconciliation scene, you know. isn’t that weird?”

“yeah.” you’re not lying.

matty moves back to sit next to you on the bed, tugging you onto his lap and gently holding your face. he kisses you, soft and slow and long, and you can feel his affection for you in it. “thank you for marathoning the original trilogy with me, darling. best birthday i’ve had in a long time.”

you pout. “not best ever?”

“that would be the tour of st. james park when i was ten,” he grins. “but this is a close second.”

“i’ll take it,” you kiss his nose. “wait… so if i was to take you on a tour of st. james park…”

“stop it right now, i might cum.”

“oh, for god’s sake,” you facepalm, trying your best not to grin while matty cracks up beside you. “let’s 86 that idea, then.”

“yeah. and we can do that number take away 17 together instead.”

“what… oh,” you smirk at your giggling boyfriend. “then you really will cum.”

“so will you,” matty leans in to kiss your neck. “you know how much i love it when you sit on my face.”

“fuck,” you can't help moaning at the thought of his tongue slicing through you, flicking against your clit with reckless abandon as you writhe on that pretty face of his; the way it's currently soothing the bite he just left on your neck isn't helping, either. “is it bedtime yet?”

matty presses kisses up across your neck to your lips - when they meet yours, you slip your tongue into his mouth, and the whine he lets out completely liquifies your insides and sends them straight into your underwear. “yeah… wait, babe,” he pants against your lips. “we haven’t let maggie outside tonight yet.”

“oh, right,” you look around the room, slightly groggy, for the puppy you were convinced was asleep on her bed by the radiator. “she’s not in here?”

“think she left halfway through the empire strikes back. reckon she was bored,” he looks at you pointedly, smile threatening to break out. “takes after her mother in that regard.”

“i wasn’t bored!”

your boyfriend kisses your nose. “sweetheart, i saw your eyes glazing over like five separate times,” he kisses all over your face, dragging a giggle from your lips with each press of his own. “but you stayed awake through all of them, and you didn’t complain, and i think you deserve head as a thank you.”

“you know, baby, you don’t actually need an excuse to eat me out.”

“yeah, i do,” matty blushes, hiding his face in your neck. “because i’d just have my head between your legs all the time if i didn’t.”

you laugh, holding the back of his head and cuddling him. “well, the sooner you take the dog out, the sooner you can come back and do that to me.”

the speed with which matty practically shoves you off his lap and runs out of the bedroom is comical. he laughs when you smack his ass, turning back to blow you a kiss before running towards the living room, shouting for maggie. you roll out of bed, darting over to softly close the door behind him then making a beeline for your wardrobe.

excitement - and slight nerves, you must admit - building in your stomach, you reach behind a stack of band tees on the wardrobe shelf, standing on tiptoe to grab the paper bag you stashed there a week ago. moving quickly, acutely aware that you have limited time before matty returns, you pull the lingerie from the bag, barely even looking at it before you’re yanking your (well, matty’s) t-shirt off and replacing it with the fancy bra. only once you’re fully dressed in the new underwear do you admire it, moving to stand in front of the full-length mirror and examining yourself. adjusting the chains holding your tits up, and smoothing any creases from the long skirt, you turn, looking at your outfit from different angles, giggling deliriously.

you look hot. extremely hot. matty’s going to fucking lose it.

and he’s going to be back any second - you can hear him padding along the hallway, humming the imperial march to himself. chucking your discarded clothes onto the chair at your vanity, you all but launch yourself back onto the bed, and settle into the first sexy-ish pose that comes to mind: lying on your side, facing the door, elbow propping up your head and top leg slightly bent.

a brief wave of panic washes over you when the realisation of what you’re doing sinks in, but you don’t have time to psych yourself out of it before matty’s knocking softly on the door. “darling?” he sounds concerned. “you alright? can i come in?”

you take a deep breath. now or never, you suppose. “yeah. come in, angel.”

“got worried when i saw the door was- oh my god,” matty’s breath catches when he opens the door and sets eyes on you for the first time. he stands there quite gormlessly for about a minute, mouth agape and pretty eyes blinking constantly, as if to make sure you’re actually lying on the bed in princess leia cosplay and he isn’t dreaming. his eyeline shifts quite constantly, too, flitting from your smiling (smirking) face to your legs to your chest and back again. yours shifts down over his bare chest to his boxers, already beginning to tent, much to your delight.

mission accomplished.

twirling your hair around your index finger, you smile at your boyfriend. “happy birthday, baby,” biting your lip, you beckon him over with the same finger; he stumbles forwards, entranced, sinking to his knees at the side of the bed. you run your thumb over his lips, and matty whines quietly, eliciting a satisfied hum of your own. “do you like my new outfit?” 

he nods so frantically you fear for his neck. still, you want to hear him. “words, sweet boy. want you to tell me what you think about it.”

“okay,” matty croaks out, eyes glued to your tits. “you- you look fucking incredible. um, just, like, so sexy. m’so fucking turned on. never been so hard in my fucking life. seriously.”

he isn’t kidding; you glance down at his clothed dick, visibly straining against the fabric, and you can feel your ego inflating to match. “yeah?” you slide your hand into his hair. “what do you want to do about it?”

“wanna fuck you,” he whimpers, looking doe-eyed at you. “but i wanna eat you out first. can i? please, darling?”

he’s so fucking eager. you’re obsessed with him.

nodding, you move so you’re sitting on the edge of the bed in front of matty, flicking the front of the skirt out of the way; his pupils dilate even more when he sees you’re bare underneath, and you giggle. “go on then, gorgeous.”

matty’s barely gasped out a “thank you” before you’re being tugged towards his face and it’s buried between your thighs. really, there’s no other word for it - if you could think anything coherent amidst the pleasure searing through you with every movement of your boyfriend’s tongue, you’d genuinely worry about whether he can breathe or not, so close is he to your core. but how can you be expected to think when you feel so fucking good?

of course, matty being matty, he’s slightly graceless with his tongue in his overexcitement, but that’s easily remedied - you root your fingers between those curls you love so much, using them as leverage to grind yourself against him and, in the process, guide him to do what you need him to. he groans what you assume, knowing him, is a “thank you” into your cunt, and the vibrations of his voice add an extra layer to the stimulation already turning you into a wanton, whining mess of a woman. “fuck, matty, such a good boy for me,” you pant, stomach contracting with every lick. humming happily, he takes your clit into his mouth, sucking on the bud and making you wail.  “yes, yes, just like that… fuck, you’re so good, so fucking good to me. keep going, angel, make me feel good.”

just like you knew it would, the praise spurs your boyfriend on, more than you would’ve thought humanly possible had you not spent copious amounts of time with his mouth on you just like this. after he’s had his fill of making out with your clit - for now, at least - matty turns his attention to your hole itself, licking into it like melting ice cream, driving the muscle into you to the hilt, over and over and over. that in itself is enough to make your legs convulse, but then he adds his thumb to your clit; some form of half-scream half-sob thing drags itself up your throat and past your lips as matty draws every pattern he knows you love onto the bundle of nerves, and your thighs involuntarily clench around his head, keeping him flush against you.

as if he would ever leave you hanging.

some part of your pleasure-numb brain urges you to apologise, tells you that crushing his head like that is surely painful, but it’s quickly disproven by your boyfriend whimpering into your core, pretty little masochist that he is. he looks up at you, beautiful eyes rolling back further into his head with every moan you make, responding with whines and groans of his own. there are a lot of things to like and love about matty, and his focused desire to always make you feel good is one of them - he gets off on this, making you feel nothing less than euphoric, and there’s no way in hell he’s stopping doing what he’s doing until you cum.

and when he rapidly flicks his tongue on your clit, side to side, curls flying everywhere from the force with which he’s shaking his head, you do. the building ball of pleasure in your stomach shatters, careening into your veins and nerves and brain and voicebox, and it’s all you can do to hold him against your cunt until the aftershocks subside.

matty giggles breathily, tenderly rubbing your thighs as you flop back onto the bed and catch your breath. when you’ve stopped shaking quite so much, you sit up on your elbows to look at him. “now where on earth did you learn that last move?”

he shrugs, cheeks rosy from use and damp with you. sweet as caramel and completely earnest, he replies. “just wondered if it would work.”

“jesus christ,” you giggle, shaking your head. “you're perfect, you know that? now,” you beckon him again. “get up here, birthday boy.”

matty doesn't waste any time; he's lying beside you before you've even finished talking, giddy smile intact. you make the same face in return, climbing onto his lap and pressing your lips to his, while his hands find home on your waist. the taste of yourself on him is exhilarating - you moan into matty when it hits you, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth and fluster you even further.

it's such a good kiss that it physically pains you to pull away. but the sight of matty, all messy hair and big adoring eyes, makes up for it. smiling, you stroke his cheek with your thumb. “so, birthday boy, what do you want to do next?”

“hmm,” matty's brow furrows adorably, hands tracing the bare skin of your torso as he thinks. after a moment, he looks up at you shyly. “i’d like you to ride me, please.”

before you can open your mouth to agree, he bursts into speech again. “but only if you want to! we can do something else if you’re not in the mood for that. god, i’d take anything at all. but, also, nothing. i don’t mind,” he takes a breath, smiling lovingly at you and stroking your hair. “to be honest, i’d settle just for looking at you, darling. my beautiful girl”. 

your cheeks burn, your heart flutters, and all you can do is kiss your boyfriend again. it's sweeter than the last kiss, but it quickly deepens into something desperate - you lift your hips and tug gently at matty's boxers, and he lifts his own hips to let you slide them off. you giggle against his lips as he holds you at a funny angle so he can kick the underwear off, pulling back slightly to talk. “can i fuck you now, sweetheart?”

matty smiles. “you can do anything you want.”

“alright,” you grin at the way he whimpers when you take hold of his dick, eyes fluttering closed when you pump it; you softly touch his face as if to stir him. “eyes open, sweetheart. want you to watch me.”

“okay. sorry,” he obliges, eyes opening and widening as you sink down onto him slowly, hands braced on his hard chest. “jesus christ.”

“yeah,” you breathe, jaw dropping as you take him fully. after a second, you begin to grind your hips, riding him slowly to adjust to how big he is. “always feel so fucking good inside me, baby. how is it for you?”

“perfect,” he's fucked already, eyes heavy and jaw slackening, a sheen of sweat covering his chest tattoo. you speed up your movements, and matty groans, gaze fixated on your tits. “can i touch you, please?”

“of course, angel.”

“thank you.” just as you predicted, your boyfriend's hands immediately go to your chest, palming and squeezing as best he can through the bra. feeling generous - it is his birthday, after all - you reach backwards and undo the garment, chucking it somewhere in your bedroom. matty smiles deliriously, and when he lightly pinches your nipples, you can't help the way your hips speed up or the moan that escapes your lips.

clearly, he isn't the only masochist in the room.

your thighs are beginning to burn from the effort, but you ignore it. matty's enjoying this, the way you're fucking him, as evidenced by the whines of your name and groans and whimpers that fall from his lips, punctuated by the gorgeous sound of your skin slapping against his. and you're enjoying it, too - he hits a delicious spot inside you every time your bodies meet, and given your previous orgasm you don't think it'll take long for you to get off again. 

he also seems to be getting close, hips sporadically jerking up into you. it feels good, actually, so good that you decide it might be time to relinquish control for a bit. you smile sweetly. “do you want to do the work for a bit, angel, wanna fuck me?”

“can i?”

fuck, you have the most adorable boyfriend in history. you nod. “i'd really like that.”

“alright,” matty shuffles beneath you, sitting up more against the pillows and moving your arms to rest on his shoulders. he kisses you, so deeply and passionately that your head spins. “can i make you cum, please, darling?”

“yeah.”

he smiles, hands moving to hold your hips. “whatever my girl wants.”

no sooner than the words have left his mouth, matty fucks up into you as fast as he can. you've no idea how he can even move at such a brutal pace, but you're not about to complain; you're not about to do anything, actually, except cling onto him and moan into his neck, your second orgasm of the night creeping closer and closer with every thrust of your boyfriend's hips. urging it on even faster, you slip a hand down to your still-sensitive clit, matching pace with matty and pulling the pleasure out from your very bones. you throw your head back, whimpering praise and pleas for him to get you off; matty watches, mesmerised. “fuck, you're beautiful,” he groans, still fucking you with reckless abandon. “cum for me, please, please. wanna watch you, wanna make you feel good. need it, darling, need you to cum.”

his pleading is what does it for you; with a wail, you bury your head in the crook of matty's neck, whimpering into him as you cum for the second time in under an hour. he brings a hand to the back of your head, tenderly holding you close as his hips stutter to a stop, murmuring more pleas into your ear. “fuck, fuck, please let me cum, can't - shit, darling - can't hold it any longer.”

“do it,” you speak into his skin. “cum, baby, fill me up.”

matty whines, thrusting up into you a final time. he wraps his arms around you as he cums, kissing your shoulder as he recovers. “thank you, sweet girl. so good to me.”

“so good for me,” you lean forward to kiss your boyfriend, both of you unbothered by the cum leaking out of you and onto his stomach when he slips out of you. “always exactly what i need.”

matty smiles. he holds your face so carefully, caressing your cheeks when you pull apart. “i've changed my mind.”

“about what?” you frown, confused.

“about what my best birthday was,” matty giggles, still panting for breath. “it's this one. hands-down. fuck the football.”

you laugh. “can i get that in writing?”

“after today? you can get anything you want,” he laughs, slightly manic, shaking his head in disbelief. “i can't believe you bought and wore that outfit for me, darling. sexiest fucking thing i've ever seen, christ.”

“i'm glad you liked it. i had a lot of fun,” you kiss his nose. “happy birthday, baby. can i clean you up?”

“in a minute, my girl,” matty wraps his arms around your thighs and tugs you until your core hovers over his face, currently set into the biggest smirk you've ever seen. “my turn first.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #matty35 #office nerd au #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

[toomuchracket]

if you're too shy, part 2 (office nerd!matty x reader fluff)

remember those gigs you and matty got scheduled to cover in part 1? yeah. this is them. enjoy <3

“hey.”

matty's curls bounce as he looks up at you quickly. a mild sense of guilt gnaws at your ribs when you realise you've spooked him, but it dissipates when he smiles, visibly relaxing when he realises it's you breaking him from his concentration. “oh, hi. you alright?”

you nod, gesturing to the vacant desk next to his. “am i ok to sit here?”

“yeah, of course. no need to ask. here, let me,” matty slides his notebook out of your way; as you lay your laptop down and sit, you can see him biting back a beam from the corner of your eye, and your heart flutters. “was there anything you needed, or…? not that there has to be, you know,” he sits up straight, apology settling itself on that gorgeous face of his. “i didn't mean it like that, i just meant-”

“no, i know, matty,” you smile softly. “there is, incidentally, but also i just wanted to sit next to you.”

there he goes with the blushing again - honestly, you reckon you could make a fortune if you bottled and sold the colour of matty's cheeks when you fluster him. although, you suppose, maybe the colour is only appealing because of whose face it's on.

said face is grinning at you again. “well, feel free, anytime.”

“likewise.”

“i'll take you up on that,” matty's smile gets impossibly wider, before he catches himself and controls it a little. “so, what is it that you need from me?”

the sloppiest kiss known to man. “advice, actually,” you put your glasses on, preening internally at the way matty's breath catches in his throat as you do, and open spotify on your laptop. “where should i start with this band we're going to see twice this weekend?”

matty's face brightens even more - impossible, you'd have thought. “oh. well, do you know any of their stuff already?”

you shake your head. “very bad of me as a music journo, but no,” you smile cheekily. “this is my first time. need you to talk me through it.”

the way matty coughs and tries to pass it off as him clearing his throat at your words is delicious. to be fair to him, he recovers quickly, the only sign of him being flustered the way his cheeks periodically twitch into a smile and back down again. “alright, so… i think i’d probably start with their second album - can i?” at your approval, he slides your laptop closer to him and scrolls down the band’s spotify profile to find the album in question. “their first is good, yeah, but the second one is where they really start to define their musical identity…” he trails off, covering his mouth. 

you blink in concern, leaning into him. “you okay, matty?”

“yeah, i just,” he sighs, then giggles into his hand. it’s maybe the best thing you’ve ever heard. “i realised i was starting to sound a bit like patrick bateman.”

“oh my god,” you snort, covering your own mouth as you laugh. “christ, you were. was this band’s early work too new-wave for your tastes and all?”

“little bit. i think their undisputed masterpiece is album two - literally a personal statement about the band itself,” matty smiles, then winces. “that was embarrassing.”

you shrug. “nah, i like that film. and not just because i think christian bale’s fit in it.”

“i was gonna go as him for halloween this year, actually,” matty says, nonchalantly scrolling through spotify again. “would that be weird?”

fuck. matty in a suit? potentially covered in blood? you have to readjust the way you’re sitting at the mere thought. so, naturally - “i think you should do it.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you smile, matching matty’s. “i’d enjoy it, at least.”

“that’s all the convincing i need,” he smiles sweetly at you, then gestures to the laptop. “so, d’you wanna know a bit about their influences before you listen?”

“go on, then.”

“alright,” matty shuffles his chair closer to you; you sit up slightly straighter as goosebumps pass over your body, increasing tenfold when he looks directly into your eyes. from this close, his are warmer than you initially realised, and you have to work extremely hard to focus on what he's saying instead of drowning in them. “to be fair, you weren't totally far-off with the new-wave joke - their music is rooted in post-punk subculture, but more along the melodic, jangly-guitar, early eighties type. you know aztec camera, yeah? convinced i saw you wear a high land, hard rain shirt to work once.”

the butterflies nesting in your stomach flutter at his recollection. “yeah, that's right. same vibe as them?”

“kinda. similar to a lot of scottish and northern bands of that era. which is weird, considering they're all about thirty and from fucking newark.”

“i see,” you nod, smiling at the way matty's twirling one of his curls. “any springsteen influence, then? not to stereotype, but… eighties-inspired music by people from new jersey? seems like there could be connection.”

matty nods enthusiastically. “yeah, great question. i mean,” he puffs air through his lips quite adorably. “lyrically, yeah, and they have quite prominent sax parts in some of the songs that are quite e street band. but the inspiration seems to be mostly melodic post-punk. does that all make sense?”

you smile, leaning on your elbow. “yeah. you're very good at explaining things. i like that about you.”

“really?” matty blushes again. “sometimes i worry that i'm just talking shite, to be honest. i know i've got a tendency to ramble a bit, always have. it annoys people, i think.”

“not me. you're always talking about something interesting. makes me feel good to talk to you.”

he clutches his hands into sweater paws again, smiling. “same. you're a sweet one, i think. m'excited that we're working a bit closer now.”

“nobody else i'd do this with, matty,” you hold out your hand, and squeeze his when he lays it atop yours; a perfect fit, you note. “you're my favourite.”

he genuinely looks like he could cry, softly rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand and speaking even softer than that. “likewise, darling.”

for a second, you do nothing but beam at each other, still tentatively holding hands; it's only when your laptop pings with an incoming email that you break out of your reverie and apart. matty clears his throat. “would you like to know which order i recommend listening to the albums in?”

“please.”

he nods. “the second, then the most recent - which is the fifth, by the way. after that, i think i'd probably say… first, third, and fourth last. that one got a bit experimental, i doubt they'll play anything from it at either of the shows. d'you want me to just make a playlist of that order for you, while we're here?”

“oh, yes please,” you watch him do just that, a slight sense of longing settling itself in your bones when you think of a playlist so sorely him settled amidst all your favourite songs; actually, it gives you an idea. “i've got a final question for you, if that's okay, matty. well, technically two.”

“yeah?” he turns to look at you again, eyes disarmingly caring and focused on you.

“what's your absolute favourite song by the band? doesn't have to be the objectively best one, and you don't have to tell me why. m'just curious.”

matty smiles, the sun breaking through clouds. “that's easy,” he scrolls down the new playlist. “this one. that's my favourite.”

“alright,” you drag it to the top of the song list. “then that's the one i'll start with. and then i'll go onto the matty-approved listening order,” pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose, you turn to face him. “that sound alright?”

“mhmm,” matty nods vigorously again, wild hair bouncing all over the place; a curl falls over his eye, and he brushes it away before peering up at you through his enviously-long lashes. “meant what i said earlier, you know. i really do think you're incredibly sweet.”

“thank you,” you all but whisper, doing your best to cover your own blushing. “um - what was i saying?”

he smiles. “you had another question, i think?”

“right, yeah. um,” your throat goes dry with sudden nerves, and you try to swallow as inconspicuous as you can to make it better. twisting your fingers together, you look down at them as you speak. “i've still got a restaurant review to do this weekend, and i was wondering if you, like, wanted to go for dinner before saturday’s show? that italian, near camden road station? and you can say no, of course, no hard feelings, but,” you can feel your cheeks burning as you tentatively look up at him. “i'd just like to hang out with you a little bit longer this weekend. i like spending time with you.”

“oh,” matty breathes, blinking as if he can’t quite believe he isn’t dreaming - you hope that’s the reason, at least. he bites his lip, cheeks rosy as he looks up at you with a smile, and nods. “yeah, i’d love that. thank you.”

“thank you, for agreeing,” you exhale, nerves replaced by tingling excitement. “is half four too early? that would give us time to eat, and walk to the roundhouse before doors, yeah?”

“that works for me,” matty nods. he twirls his hair again. “d’you want to just meet at the restaurant? cos that’s the station i’d get off at, camden road. but i don’t mind meeting you off the tube, if you like.”

“no, no, it’s alright. i’ll just get you there - i’m not gonna make you brave the high street when you don’t need to,” you giggle. “especially on a saturday afternoon, christ.”

he huffs out a laugh, but his eyes are tender - so is his voice, when he replies. “alright. i’d do it for you, though, no complaints.”

you believe him. you aren’t sure if you’ve ever seen someone look so sweetly sincere, and it’s fucking your brain up. big-time.

still, you hold it together long enough to reply. “you’re cute, healy, even if i think you’re a bit mad for offering to walk through camden just to get me,” you giggle at the way his jaw drops at the compliment. “you can get me at angel on friday, though, if you fancy? makes sense, if you’re already walking down from highbury.”

“i’ll be there at six,” matty smiles. “i’m excited to hear what you think of the band, you know. i think you’ll like them.”

“well, if you do, then i’m sure i will. you’ve got good taste,” you gather up your laptop and stand, turning to matty with a flirty grin. “speaking of - i like that jumper. you look hot in red, matty. really hot. anyway,” you bite back a grin at the little gasp he lets out. “thanks for all your help, lovely.”

“anytime!” he calls after you when you turn to walk away, deliberately swinging your hips slightly more than usual - you’re convinced you hear a muffled “fuck” before he speaks properly. “and, um, thanks for, y’know, liking my jumper.”

you look over your shoulder and wink, happiness bubbling through your body when you notice matty shifting his gaze from your ass to your face so hastily it’s a wonder his neck didn’t snap. “friday at six, yeah? don’t be late.”

“i won’t!”

and he’s true to his word - when you come up the escalators at angel station at five minutes to six on friday, matty’s leaning against the wall opposite you. he grins, a big toothy eye-crinkling smile that has your heart doing backflips, and waves as you walk over to him. “hi! i like your jacket.”

“oh, thank you,” you self-consciously touch the fluffy collar. “have you been waiting long?”

“not really. ten minutes?”

“that’s not too bad. shall we?” you wander out into the chilly evening air, matty matching pace beside you. “you ever been to a show here before?”

“yeah. what a fucking weird venue,” matty steps closer to you to avoid being run over by a bike, and your heart flutters; you’re actually sad when he moves away. “i like it inside, but-”

“the fact it’s literally in the middle of a shopping centre is insane?”

“completely mental.”

“a really strange bit of urban planning,” you smile, turning to him as you wait at a set of traffic lights. “i listened to the playlist you made me, by the way. even learned some of the words.”

matty laughs. “you like them, then? that’s good. knew you would, though.”

you nod, fighting the urge to grab his hand as you cross the road. “played your favourite song about ten times on loop. i had no idea it was going to end up being a love song, by the way…”

“yeah, the title’s a bit misleading.”

“...but it really works. i can see why it’s your favourite,” you gently nudge your shoulder into his arm. “like i said the other day, you’ve got good taste.”

he looks down at the pavement, smiling, then at you. fuck, he’s so cute. “so do you, darling,” he says, voice so soft you can hardly hear it over the bustle around you. “i really like your outfit.”

the hour spent upending your entire wardrobe onto your bed to pick it out was absolutely worth it. “thank you. i figured, y’know, since i’m technically not working,” you smirk at him. “i’d make the effort for going out. tomorrow, though, when i’m on-shift? not a chance.”

“you’ll still look great, i reckon,” matty says, easy as breathing; ironically, the ease of his words practically stops your own breath. “and yeah, i s’pose you really aren’t working tonight. when was the last time you went to a gig just for fun?”

“it’s been a while,” you admit. “and i miss it, actually, getting to just experience new artists without having to analyse and critique them. that’s part of the reason i’m excited to be going tonight.”

“i get that,” matty nods as you turn into the venue entrance. “and what’s the other part?”

you grin. “the fact i’m going with you.”

once again, matty blushes. “if you keep throwing me off with compliments the whole night, i literally won’t get any work done. but thank you. m’glad you agreed to come with me tonight.”

“i’m glad you asked,” you turn to him once you join the line to get in. “and you’ll get your work done, don’t worry. i promise to be good.”

for the most part, you actually succeed at that, and it’s largely due to how bloody good the band are. for all the venue is in a weird place, it really is a decent one - it’s so intimate that even you, who only started listening to the artists onstage this week, feel like a proper part of it. and, free of note-taking responsibilities, you can allow yourself to be made giddy by the coloured lights and loud melodies, to dance as best you can on the sticky floor, to sing along to the scraps of lyrics you recognise and join in the backing vocals with the rest of the crowd. that was always your favourite part of a concert, the moments where hundreds of voices just worked as one, identities dropping and merging to prioritise the music; it’s nice to be in it, for once, rather than doing your best to observe and capture and convey it in words. you leave that to matty, and mostly leave him be aside from the odd smile and laugh, always responded to warmly by him.

that is, until they play his favourite song, and the boy beside you becomes impossible to ignore.

the singer says something about this being the last song of the night, before beginning the now-familiar melody on his guitar. matty’s head snaps up at the first few notes, and his notebook snaps shut; you turn to him at the noise, smiling at the excitement on his face, even more radiant than usual under the pink lighting. he looks at you with a matching smile, curls bouncing as he nods along to the music, before turning back rapt towards the stage. you follow suit, soaking up the lyrics about wanting and yearning and falling fast for someone - hearing those words with that person beside you sends goosebumps shooting across your skin and sparks through your nervous system, the same kind of kinetic energy crackling in the space between you and matty. it’s so strong you have to uncross your arms, stretching your fingers out by your side. mortifyingly, they brush against the back of matty’s hand, and the sparks become shockwaves; not so much born out of fear, but of the same kind of longing the singer is musing about. he doesn’t seem to mind the contact, hand staying put despite it, and something in your brain just says fuck it and snaps.

tentatively, more so than you think you’ve ever been before, you loop your fingers around matty’s, and you hold his hand. and, quite honestly, nothing has ever felt quite so right as this. the shockwaves in your nervous system fade to a gentle hum, kinda like the reverb from the speakers, with only a tiny jolt when matty gently squeezes your hand in response.that’s how you stay for the rest of the song, hand-in-hand facing the stage, both of you - unbeknownst to the other - smiling contentedly and mouthing the lyrics to the song you relate to.

it lasts a sickeningly short amount of time, though - as soon as the song ends, you and matty are all but pulled apart by a group of kids running towards the stage, shouting about setlists and drumsticks and god knows what else. matty chuckles, walking backwards towards the exit so he can talk to you. "that was good.”

“yeah,” you agree, although you’re not sure what he’s specifically referring to. “liked it a lot.”

“me too.”

there’s comfortable silence as you weave your way out of the venue and onto the street. you turn to say a reluctant goodbye to matty, but he beats you to it. “i’ll walk you to the station.”

“are you sure? you’ve got a bit of a walk in the other direction, matty.”

he shrugs. “it’s a nice night. i don’t mind.”

“cool,” you do your best to keep from smiling at the thought of an extra five minutes with him. “thank you.”

“s'alright,” matty smiles, leading the way down the street. “i've had a lot of fun tonight.”

“yeah, same here. they're really good!”

“aren't they? i'm excited to see their set tomorrow, see how it compares,” he hums happily. “i think this is gonna turn out to be a really good article, you know.”

“so do i,” you beam at him. “and i must say, i'm enjoying the process for this one much more than i have in a while.”

he giggles, and you have to fight the urge to hold his hand again. “well, if you think about it,” matty rubs his thumb over his bottom lip quite attractively. “it makes a lot more sense for us to do gig reviews together. music is something to be shared, after all, and live music especially, and so are our reviews - we probably get a better sense of it all if we're not by ourselves, don't you think?”

you don't even bother trying to hide how enamoured you are when you look at him. “i love the way your brain works, matty.”

“oh, shush,” he clutches the sleeves of his jacket over his hands, but beams anyway; it drops from his face when he notices the tube station sign up ahead. “well, i suppose this is where i leave you.”

the melancholia in his voice makes your heart sink. “yeah, i guess,” you sigh. “but not for long, though.”

“true,” matty's face brightens, and he reaches to take your hand and squeeze it gently. “thanks for coming, darling. i had a lot of fun.”

“thank you for having me,” you squeeze his hand in return, smiling at the way he looks down at your connected fingers in wonder. “text me when you get home?”

“of course. you too, please.”

“i will,” you let go of matty, pausing before you turn to walk away; quicker than your brain can convince you otherwise, you lean up to press a kiss to his soft cheek, before winking at his dazed expression and turning towards the station. “see you tomorrow, lovely.”

“bye,” comes the soft, delayed reply. you turn back to wave once you reach the escalator, then smile giddily to yourself the whole way home.

in fact, you don't think you stop smiling giddily for the rest of the night, or the next day; just the knowledge that you're going to see matty again keeps you in a state of sunniness, has you dancing around the flat and serenading your dog, who just looks at you like you're insane. a tiny part of your brain agrees with her, but how can you be expected to help it? you haven't been this excited to go on a date with someone in a long, long time.

well, it's not a date, officially. but walking into a dimly-lit italian restaurant with matty in tow, him taking your jacket and pulling your chair out for you like a perfect gentleman? it fucking feels like it. you wish it was.

even more so when he takes his own jacket off, revealing A) a short-sleeved shirt in the same colour of red you told him he looked hot in the other day, worn slightly open over a white tank; B) almost-unbelievably muscular arms; C) tattoos littered up said arms, and one on his chest just peeking out suggestively.

jesus fucking christ.

you can’t help but stare at matty, mouth agape, as he sits down. he giggles nervously when he notices. “what?”

the words leave your mouth before you can even think about stopping them. “matty… do you know how hot you are?”

he does the adorable blinking thing again. “you think i’m hot? me?”

“um, yeah, i have eyes,” you giggle, cheeks burning. keep it together, you stupid slut. “i didn’t know you had all those tattoos, actually. why don’t you show them off more?”

matty shrugs. “sometimes, people think if you have lots of tattoos, you’re like, i don’t know… scary, or unapproachable,” he opens the drinks menu. “that’s not the impression i wanna give off, you know? especially at work. like, you know me, i’m quite soft and quiet. i just think the tattoos look sick.”

god, you want to eat him alive.

“i understand,” you nod, leaning on your elbows. “and i also think they look sick. kinda sexy, i’d say, to be honest. anyway,” you bite back a smirk at matty’s flustered expression. “what sort of drink are you in the mood for?”

“oh, well… i don’t know, actually,” matty scans the menu, then meets your eyes. “i’m new to this sort of reviewing. what do you usually do first? talk me through it,” he must mistake your wide eyes after his last statement for horror, instead of slight arousal. “please.”

“okay. can i see the menu, please? right, fab, thanks,” you hold it open so you can both see the drinks list. “shit, this is extensive… reasonably priced, would you say?”

“for this part of london? yeah.”

“i agree. right,” you look at him, and the concentration with which he looks back almost throws you off. “because we haven’t picked out food and don’t know about flavour palettes yet, i’d avoid wine for the time being. anything too flavoured, actually - i reckon our best bets are either some sort of fairly neutral cocktail, or a spirit and clear mixer. you know, vodka soda, a g&t, that kind of thing.”

matty nods. “makes sense.”

“yeah. the exception to all of that, in my opinion, is champagne,” you smile. “but if i start drinking it, i won’t want to stop, and if i kick the arse out of this meal on the work credit card then marianne will kick mine, so…”

he laughs, and the warmth of it goes straight to your stomach. “classy girl,” he smiles, laughing even harder when you make a face. “well, i think you are. and,” he points at the menu. “i also think we should have negronis.”

“nice. alright, let’s move on to food,” you open another menu. “oh, thank god we came here so early - this decision might take me a while. sorry.”

matty smiles, the tenderness in his eyes only exacerbated by the flickering candlelight. “that’s alright, darling. we’ll take all the time you need. well,” he winces. “maybe keep it within the two and a half hours we’ve got until we need to leave for the gig. although i s’pose we could stay here another fifteen minutes if we got a taxi.”

you wave insouciantly. “we’ll be on time. and you’ll have fun, too. promise.”

“oh, i don’t doubt that.”

and you really do have fun, despite having to constantly remind yourself that you’re not on a date and are in fact at work. the two negronis you each have over the course of the meal continue to coax matty out of his shell - and thus, get you to fall even harder for him than you already have, which to be honest you didn’t think was possible after seeing his tattoos - to the point where he’s affectionately taking the piss out of you for stealing forkfuls of his dinner “for journalistic purposes”. but, all in all, he’s completely fascinated by the process of forming your review, taking interest in the subtleties of what makes somewhere good versus great, and marvelling at the breadth of your culinary knowledge (which you’re actually very proud of, being self-taught and all); he’s still raving about it as you walk - with plenty of time to spare, mind you - along chalk farm road towards the roundhouse. “i actually don’t know what i’m more impressed with, you or the food. genuinely. you’re incredible. and to think i was going to make you soup!”

you frown. “past tense? why?”

“you know too much about food. i won’t be able to impress you.”

“matty,” you turn to look at him, wide-eyed and crestfallen. “that’s not true at all!”

he scoffs, but not harshly. “come on, babe,” the nickname does something funny to your stomach. “i’m not upset about it, just thinking realistically. how is my nana’s carrot and coriander recipe gonna stack up against michelin-starred minestrone, or whatever? not at all, that’s how. and that’s alright!”

“matty. matty - alright, fine,” you clear your throat, stopping and standing with your hands on your hips. “matthew. listen to me, and listen good, yeah? right,” when he nods, blinking those pretty eyes, you continue. “soup is a whole different thing - in fact, all domestic cooking is, especially if you’re making something for someone you care about. i don’t want to be impressed by the technique, i want to be nourished. cared for. dare i say, healed. and, in that regard, i have no doubt that your nana’s recipe would fucking decimate any posh restaurant soup. alright?”

he nods, shyly peeking through his eyelashes. “alright.”

“thank you.”

the walk continues, silent for a few minutes until matty talks again. “you know,” he says, smile audible in his voice. “i didn’t think i’d find being lectured about soup sexy. and yet…”

“oh my god, stop it,” you giggle, although you’re simultaneously fighting the urge to skip along the path and secretly filing that piece of matty information away in your mind. just in case. “thanks, though.”

he shrugs, smirking. you’re into it. “just telling the truth. it’s my job, after all.”

“and here i thought you were flirting with me,” you smirk back. “shame,” you wink, speeding up slightly towards the venue; you drop into serious mode when you see several different door queues. “shit. where do we go, with the press passes?”

matty hums, looking around. suddenly, he takes your hand, gently leading you to a side door; you’re quite content with this, a sort-of fuzzy feeling overcoming you, so much so that you barely register him talking. “here we are. you ready, darling?”

you nod happily at him. “round two. let’s go.”

the night, at first, progresses a lot like the previous one - you spend the opening set dancing, singing along to the songs you know pretty well by now, leaning in to talk to matty about any discrepancies you see in performance between both nights while he diligently takes notes. when they close with his favourite song, again, you’re slightly dismayed that he continues to write, and you can’t repeat the hand-holding; pretty much as soon as you’ve thought that, though, matty leans into you to rest his head on yours and sing along to the lyrics, and the room seems to get brighter. out of both desire and necessity (you know how clumsy he is), you wrap an arm around matty’s waist, and you swear you can hear him smile. it’s warm, sweet, intimate without being weird, and you really don’t want to let go of him. ever.

eventually, once the song ends and the house lights come up in the break between sets, you do, pulling your notebook from your jacket pocket with a sigh. matty straightens up, stretches with a groan that should not be as attractive as it was to you, and smiles. “pasta tiredness hitting you too?”

“little bit,” you wince. “maybe dinner then dancing was a bad idea.”

he shakes his head. “nah. it’s been fun. i’ve really enjoyed it.”

“i’m glad to hear that,” you smile at him. “wouldn’t mind making a habit of it, actually.”

“really?” matty beams. “neither would i. maybe we can pitch it to marianne as an actual segment. like, restaurant pairings with gigs, potentially highlight local places near the venues we go to. yeah?”

it’s a fucking great idea. he goes all bashful when you tell him as much. “cool. we can maybe see her about it on monday, if she’s in.”

you nod. “of course. come and find me on monday morning, and we can come up with a proper pitch while we get this piece done, alright?”

“‘course,” matty nods, smiling when the lights drop and the audience scream. “right, i’ll leave you to your notes.”

“cheers,” you reply, reluctantly turning towards the stage. it isn’t that the gig is bad, at all - as you wrote in your notes, the band are talented, charismatic, well-rehearsed. it’s just extremely difficult to focus on them and your notebook when you have the boy of your dreams beside you, close enough to touch and kiss and dance with, singing along happily and doing a dorky little two-step that makes his hair bounce quite beautifully. every so often, the urge to turn and smile at him becomes too much to resist, and matty goes visibly - adorably - pink under the stark white lighting every single time he makes eye contact with you.

by the time the gig ends, you’re dead certain: you are down so incredibly deeply bad for matty healy, and you need to tell him as soon as possible.

as it turns out, the opportunity for that happens extremely quickly once you’re both out of the venue, talking and laughing and dissecting the show even further than you did in your respective notebooks as you leave, and it’s so romance-media smooth that you genuinely think a higher power might be involved. perhaps an apology from the universe by having a group of teenagers push you and matty apart at yesterday’s gig, this time a group of them push you closer together, bolting past you and screaming about catching the bus home - matty tugs you into him to stop you being completely bowled over, and turns so the two of you are right next to the building instead of in the firing line out in the open. his hands are warm against your waist and lower back, and so is his neck under your clasped hands; you have no recollection of putting them there, but you sure as shit aren’t going to move them anytime soon. if you did that, you’d further the distance between you, and why on earth would you want to do that, when you’re so close you can’t tell whose breath cloud is whose and the little flecks of gold in his dark eyes are visible to you for the first time?

no. you’ll stay as you are, thank you very much.

“you know that thing we were going to pitch to marianne at work on monday?” you whisper, heart pounding as you notice matty’s eyes flick to your lips. “the thing we want to make a habit of?”

“yeah,” matty breathes, the words so close to your lips you can practically taste them. “what about it?”

your lips part, and you take a shaky breath before you reply. “well, the thing is,” you bite your lip, and his pupils dilate. “i don’t think i want it to be a work thing, matty.”

a beat passes before he responds. “neither do i.”

thank fuck.

your eyes close in contentment. “matty?”

“yeah, darling?”

you reopen them, looking up at him - for the probably millionth time in two days, you don’t bother trying to hide the feeling in your gaze. “kiss me.”

that gorgeous face above yours cracks into a smile. “alright.”

and he does.

it’s exactly how you imagined he would be - a little bit sloppy, tentative with tongue, but so eager and giggly and just so caring that it doesn’t matter. on instinct, your hand roots itself in matty’s curls, and the little whine he lets out is probably enough to fuel your bedtime fantasies for a fortnight by itself. you smile into him, tracing your tongue around his lips before sucking on the bottom one and releasing it slowly. your head is spinning, from matty more than lack of oxygen, and you honestly don’t think you’ve ever been happier post-kiss in your life.

there’s a happy silence for a minute, save the two of you gasping for breath, broken by matty kissing you quickly again and grinning. “hi. and, also, wow.”

“indeed,” you beam up at him, gently twisting those pretty curls around your fingers. “you might’ve figured it out by now, but… i like you, in a more-than-platonic sense.”

“the kiss gave it away, yeah,” he giggles breathily. “i take it there’s no policy at work about making out with your colleagues? or, y’know, taking them out on actual, unrelated-to-work dates?”

“no such thing.”

matty smiles, pulling you in for another kiss. “well, thank christ for that.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #office nerd au #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

[toomuchracket]

birthday wish (d word matty x reader fluff)

it's the 6th for me already so here's the first of the matty35 birthday celebration fics, as organised by lovely @the1975attheirverybest and @abiiors!! pre-dating, very sweet, hope you enjoy <3

“for fuck's sake, matty, will you just fucking ask her?”

george is all but bashing his head off the desk in the office he and matty have unofficially claimed as their own, while the latter paces across the carpet, biting at the skin around his nails. “dunno, george. what if she says no?”

“wouldn't be the first time a hot girl's told you to do one, would it?”

“fuck off,” matty smacks his friend on the back of the head. objectively, he knows george is right - you are hot, that's merely a fact, you're gorgeous - but that doesn't mean he has to like hearing him bring it up.

whatever. it's not like matty can get mardy at him for it - he isn't your boyfriend, after all. technically, you're barely even friends; he's known you all of four weeks, and has yet to see you in a social setting. 

he really fucking wants to, though. hence, his current dilemma.

george laughs. “mate, you're only asking her to come over to mine for your birthday drinks. it's not like you're asking her out or anything.”

“no,” matty hums, eyes unfocusing on their view out the window as his brain conjures up thoughts of doing just that. it's a nice thought, admittedly not an unfamiliar one, and something he will absolutely get distracted imagining if he doesn't snap out of it now. he blinks. “i just think it'd be nice if she was there, y'know? but, at the same time, i don't want her to feel weird about me asking, cos she doesn't know us that well yet.”

“i think you're overthinking it,” comes the salient reply. “can sort-of see where you're coming from, but i reckon if you just fucking ask her like a normal person then it'll be fine.”

matty sighs. “alright. you're right. i'll ask her before the end of the day.”

“well,” george turns to him, shit-eating grin on his face. he nods towards the glass panel on the door. “she's heading towards us, so you're doing it now.”

fuck. matty peers through the window, heart softening as he watches you wander towards him - sorry, them - stack of papers in hand and your hair escaping the messy ponytail he watched you shove it into earlier. “perfect.”

he barely has time to force the panic from his face before you're knocking softly on the half-open door, poking your head around it with a sweet smile. “hi, boys. am i okay to come in with some admin? i can come back later if you're busy.”

matty opens his mouth to speak, but george beats him to it. “oh, we're not busy at all. matty was just doing my fucking head in, as per,” he laughs when matty scowls at him. “what d'you need?”

“just got some risk assessments for album events that i need you to read and sign. the fun stuff,” you awkwardly (endearingly, matty would say) put the papers on the desk, looking up at matty as you step back and shyly clasp your hands behind your back. god, you are so fucking cute. “and, for the record, i doubt what george just said about you is true, matty.”

“thank you, darling,” matty smiles, at the exact same time as george says “no, he genuinely was being a pain in the arse”; he turns to his best friend, glaring. “what, george, like you're being to me now?”

george winks at you. “worse.”

you giggle nervously, turning towards the door - matty's heart drops as you do. “well, don't let me get in the way. just get those back to me as soon as you can, please, alright?”

“wait, before you go,” george calls after you. “can we talk to you about something?”

“um, yeah?” you turn back around, pretty face panicked, and nervously cross one arm over your stomach to hold the other. “am i in trouble?”

fuck, you are so adorable. matty smiles as softly as possible - not difficult, though, when it’s you he’s smiling at. “no, no, of course not. what would you even be in trouble for, anyway? you’re perfect.”

“oh,” you smile bashfully. “thank you.”

“it’s true. anyway,” matty clears his suddenly-very-dry throat as best he can. “we were wondering… are you, um, busy on saturday?”

“the 9th?” your brow furrows as you think. “yeah, i am, actually - my friend’s moving in with his boyfriend, and i said i’d help,” the panicked expression crosses your face again. “why do you ask? is there something else on that day that i should be at?”

crestfallen, matty replies with a “no, it’s alright, not a big deal”; george cuts him off, though. “it’s not a work thing, no - we were just gonna ask if you wanted to come to the little birthday celebration we’re having for matty at mine that day-”

“but really, if you can’t make it, no hard feelings,” matty interjects, practically tripping over his words in his haste to reassure you (read: seem cool about it, and not let on that he’s disappointed). “we know it’s short notice.”

you blink a few times, biting your lip before you look directly at matty and speak. “what time would you want me?”

well, anytime, all the time, really. “oh. just after 4? it’s quite casual, not a sit-down dinner or anything. but, like i said, no pressure.”

“no, i think i could probably be there for that time!” you nod enthusiastically. “i’ll text you if anything changes, but,” you beam, and matty thinks his heart might pack in. “i’ll do my best to be there. thanks for asking, both of you.”

“of course,” george grins. “you’re our friend. why wouldn’t we ask you?”

he isn’t technically wrong, calling you that on behalf of both of them, but it still makes matty feel like he’s bitten into a lemon. a friend; how he wishes there was another word prefixing it, one only he could use to describe you.

still, you’ll hopefully be there to celebrate his birthday with him, and that sweetens everything - if you turn up, that is. “exactly. you’re top of the guestlist, darling.”

you huff out a laugh, looking at matty so affectionately he could cry. “better make a proper effort to get to the party, then,” you look at your watch. “i’m sorry, i’ve got to run to a meeting - hopefully see you at the weekend?”

“yeah,” matty nods. you’re out of the office before he can finish speaking, and his parting phrase comes out feebly as a result. “bye, darling.”

he moves to sit back at his desk, lifting one of the risk assessments and beginning to read it in silence. george peers round his laptop, gawking at his best friend. “why you being all emo?”

“i’m not.”

“yeah, you are. you’re like a black cloud,” a beat passes, then george speaks again, voice softer. “the invitation went well, at least.”

matty hums noncommittally. “s’pose.” 

“it did, matthew. she was excited. she said she’d try her best to be there. those are good things.”

“i know,” matty sighs. “i just… i hope she’ll be there. be a shame if she wasn’t.”

“i think she will.”

“well, we’ll see.”

***

“... happy birthday, dear matty, happy birthday to you!”

matty smiles at the mismatched chorus of voices, laughing when charli ruffles his hair after she sets the cake down on the coffee table in front of him. “oi, bean,” he lightly taps eilidh, sat on his lap, on the shoulder. “i know we’re a bit early to be celebrating your birthday, but will you help me blow out the candles?”

she nods excitedly, tiny ponytail bouncing. matty beams, and they gently blow out a “3” candle each, to a soundtrack of applause. ross, sat next to the two of them, reaches over to smooth his daughter’s hair. “have the cigarettes finally caught up to you, or are you just getting too old?”

matty furrows his brow. “d’you mean?”

“well, you just needed my toddler’s help to blow out your candles - stop it, i’m joking,” his friend laughs, leaning to the side to avoid matty smacking the back of his head. “did you make a wish?”

“obviously.”

“what for?”

“can’t tell you,” matty takes a sip of his wine, lifting it out of eilidh’s reach - ross lifts her onto his own lap, and she cuddles into him quite cutely. “won’t come true, otherwise.”

“fair enough,” ross shrugs. he nods to something behind matty. “g’s trying to get your attention, mate.”

“is he?” matty turns, heart rate increasing when he hears george saying your name into the phone pressed to his ear. after excusing himself from the table, he quickly follows his friend into the quiet hallway, tensing every muscle in his body to stop his leg bouncing in nervous anticipation.

the nerves fade quickly, though - george smiles as he talks, and then he says something that makes matty want to actually skip around the house. “you’re almost here? amazing, everyone’s looking forward to seeing you…”

understatement of the fucking century.

“... and yeah, i’ll make sure someone’s outside so you know where to go,” he laughs down the line, and matty’s heart melts at the thought of you endearingly asking for that. “alright, no worries. see you soon,” george ends the call, sighing dramatically before smirking at the birthday boy. “told you she’d be here.”

“yeah, yeah,” matty rolls his eyes, but he can’t keep his cheeks from lifting into a smile, no matter how hard he tries. although, to be fair, he’s not trying particularly hard. “i’ll wait for her, mate.”

“you sure? it’s your party, after all.”

“exactly - i should be there to greet the guests,” matty smirks. “and i fancy a cig, too, if i’m honest.”

george scoffs. “typical. here,” he chucks a set of house keys at matty, who manages to catch them with the very tips of his fingers. “you’d better head out now.”

“sweet.”

it’s actually a little bit chilly when matty steps outside george’s front door, but it’s a nice evening; the sun is just beginning to set, casting a golden hue over london, the birds are chirping quietly, and the whole thing is just really quite peaceful. he perches as well as he can on the front gate, lighting up a cigarette and contentedly taking a drag. by the time your uber arrives, he’s halfway finished the cig, but he barely has time to even think about stubbing it out before you’re out of the car and walking towards him. 

he waves, eyes trailing slowly up your body, lingering on your bare legs and almost popping out of his head when they take notice of the slight cleavage your sundress is showing off. not that it’s obscene, or anything, he’s just so used to seeing you all office-chic and buttoned-up. still, matty quickly shifts his focus to that beautiful face of yours, just to keep his cool.

as if he could, around you.

you beam as you near him. “hi! i’m so, so sorry i’m late,” you open your arms for a hug, and he slots into them eagerly, savouring the rose of your perfume. “had to marinate in the shower for a bit after today, i stunk.”

“well, you smell good now. and you look it, too, i love that dress,” matty replies, heart breaking ever so slightly when you pull apart. “and you’re here, that’s all that matters.”

“thanks! and i wouldn’t have missed your birthday, matty - speaking of, here,” you pull a bottle of red from your bag and hand it to him. “didn’t know what to get you, so i figured this was a safe bet.”

“you didn’t have to get me anything! thanks, though, darling,” he looks at the label, eyes widening. “shit, this is good. shall we go inside and open it?”

“oh, if you like,” you smile. “or you can save it for someone special, i'm cool either way.”

matty shrugs, smiling. “i mean, i'm looking at such a person right now.”

it's maybe a tiny bit far a statement for a platonic relationship, but you don't take it badly at all - you just smile back, quietly agree to share the wine, and follow matty when he leads you back into the house and straight into the empty kitchen.

you gasp when you see the birthday cake on the counter. “no! i missed the cake?”

“only by a few minutes,” matty stops rummaging in a drawer for the corkscrew to look round at you; his heart jolts when he sees you look genuinely sad. “really, darling, it's not a big deal.”

“i still feel bad, though. i really am sorry for not being here on time, matty.”

“hey, none of that, please,” he hands you a glass of wine and puts his arm around your shoulders, biting back a beam as you automatically melt into him. “like i said, you're here now, and that's the main thing. and it's my birthday party, so you have to listen to me.”

“alright,” you look up at him, smiling, and hold out your glass. “happy birthday, sweetheart.”

he smiles warmly at the pet name, heart aglow, and taps his glass lightly on your own. “thank you, darling. d'you think we should cut the cake?”

jesus, what a spiral that phrase could lead him into. thank god you're not wearing white today.

you nod. “where does george keep plates? i'll get them.”

“cupboard above the kettle.”

plates and knife procured, matty carefully slices into the cake, oohing and ahhing at the interior. “wow. look at the layers! they're so neat.”

“alright, paul hollywood.”

he giggles. “i love bake off.”

“so do i - oh, thank you,” you take the plate from him, and then a bite of the cake. “fuck me, that's good.”

he laughs, pushing himself to sit on the counter and taking a bite of his own slice. “christ, you were not kidding. fucking amazing.”

“isn't it?” you wash your bite down with some wine. “m'still sorry i didn't get to see you blowing out the candles, though.”

“eilidh helped me.”

you aww, perching yourself on the counter next to him. “i take it you made a wish?”

“of course.”

“good,” you rest your head on his shoulder, so casually intimate that matty thinks his legs would give way if he tried to stand right now. “d'you think it'll come true?”

he rests his head atop yours, smiling when you giggle at him. “you know what? i think it already has.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #matty35 #d word matty #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

[toomuchracket]

it's only been a year (birthday party matty x reader fluff)

surprise! happy 1st anniversary of the blog, and therefore to these fuckers. love you all. enjoy <3

matty’s so glad you're here.

not that he doesn't love his job, because he really, really does - and, to be honest, playing music for lovely people with his best friends has never felt like a proper shift to him - but the touring sparkle is starting to fade a bit now. it's been nonstop for almost two years, the end of this album cycle is in sight, and, as much as he hates to admit it, he's not as young as he once was. the tiredness catches up to him faster, because the adrenaline doesn't last as long, and all the dancing around is taking a bit more of a toll on his body than it used to (which reminds him: put the knee support on before travelling tomorrow). what used to be hours-long hedonistic afterparties have turned into staying backstage for a couple of drinks at most, before hurrying to the hotel for a hot shower to soothe the muscles in the voice and the rest of the body, and then getting as much sleep as possible. arguably, not particularly rock'n’roll, nor very exciting.

but you're here. at the shows, on the planes and trains and buses, and, currently, cueing up an episode of derry girls from the bed in matty's (well, both of your) hotel room. and because you are, the sparkle is still there, still glimmering away like glitter under strobe lights. he's not in the habit of quoting or relating to abba songs (although it's been happening more often recently, probably because of your love for mamma mia), but matty thinks they hit the nail on the head in super trouper - he truly cannot be sad knowing you're in the crowd, seeing you dance along to his songs and smile at him like he hung the moon.

wrapping the towel around his waist, matty steps out of the bathroom, and immediately smiles (probably gormlessly) at the sight of you, frowning cutely as you try to get netflix to load; his heart melts when you push up your glasses, then turn to beam at him when you catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye. “hi, baby. how you feeling?”

“tired,” matty sighs, smiling again when you climb off the bed and peck him on the lips, before tugging him into a cuddle. he hums. “thanks, sweetheart.”

“s'ok,” you press a kiss to his chest tattoo, a move so tender that it never fails to weaken his knees. “d'you want me to make you a hot chocolate while you get ready for bed?”

matty pulls back to look at you, brow furrowed. “we have hot chocolate?”

“there's a setting for it on the coffee machine.”

“there is? i didn't notice.”

“yeah, it's in french.”

“oh,” matty laughs, kissing your head. “this is really a recurring thing for us, isn't it? you keeping me right with drinks in europe because you're the only one of us who can speak french. thank god you were a pretentious teenager, darling.”

you blink at him. “you're taking the piss out of me for being a pretentious teenager?”

“well, i’m not the one who learnt another language so i could read the original text of les mis,” matty smirks. “how's that going, by the way?”

your face takes on the adorably bashful expression matty loves so much. “haven't even finished it in english yet,” you say, before crumbling into laughter that matty can't help joining in on - fuck, he loves you so much. when he tells you as much, you kiss him again. “i love you, too. now - hot choc, or no?”

“i'll take one, please, darling.”

“okay,” you kiss his nose, beaming at the way he scrunches it when you do. “can you see if you can get netflix to work once you're dressed, please, babe?”

“course, darling.”

“thank you, lover.”

there's a final kiss, then you let go of matty and wander to the coffee machine; as silly as it sounds, because you're only about three feet away from him, he misses you as soon as you leave his arms. having you in them, being in yours… that's matty's favourite thing in the world, and he'd gladly sacrifice most other things in life to have it for five minutes longer every morning and night, ten more minutes per day of him just being yours and you just being his.

although, looking at you now, it's so clear that those things are true even without him holding you - the hoodie you're wearing is an old one of his (that honestly looks better on you), the boxers you're wearing as pyjama shorts are his, and he's preeeeetty sure the overly-long nike sports socks you're wandering around in are also his. he gives parts of himself to you, and you accept them gladly, proudly displaying that you're completely his; in heart and mind and soul, too, not just in wardrobe.

he still can't get over that. he doesn't think he ever will.

once he's dressed (clothes warm, because you were sweet enough to put them on the radiator for him) and the tv has loaded properly, matty settles into bed, beaming at you as you wander over with his drink and giggling when you place it on the bedside table and just crawl over him to get to your side of the bed. he kisses the side of your head as you snuggle into him. “you're not having one, darling?”

“nah,” you let out a world-weary sigh. “i've had far too much chocolate today as is. remind me never to agree to going to a gig in switzerland ever again. s'awful for my digestion.”

matty laughs. “or you could just, you know, not eat chocolate.”

you frown adorably at him. he laughs again. “or not.”

“thank you,” your face softens. “s'good, though. try the hot chocolate, see for yourself.”

“right,” matty takes a sip, humming happily at the rich sweetness. “mhmm. yeah.”

“amazing, isn't it?”

he nods, swallowing, then grins. “nowhere near as sweet as you, though.”

“oh, you sap!” you roll your eyes, tucking your face into matty’s chest in mild embarrassment while he giggles; he can feel you smiling through his t-shirt, though. “put the telly on, i can't cope.”

he obliges, free hand coming up to stroke your hair as you watch the episode in relative calm - that is, aside from the two of you constantly laughing at the onscreen antics, and from you covering matty's mouth in an attempt to stop him doing his god-awful impression of a northern irish accent. the whole experience is really domestic, as sweet as the hot chocolate matty finished ten minutes into the episode, the perfect end to a busy work day.

matty stretches when the episode ends, moving to wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on your chest. “time is it, sweetheart?”

“ten past midnight,” you yawn; suddenly, though, you perk up. “oh! happy anniversary, baby!”

he smiles into your chest, dragging himself up to hover over you. “happy anniversary, my girl,” he coos, thumbs stroking your pretty face. “i love you.”

“i love you,” you smile. “kiss, please?”

matty nods, leaning down to press his lips to yours; on instinct, you open your mouth as soon as he does, soundtracked by a sigh that makes his head spin. even now, a year on from it, every kiss you share feels like the very first one up against the wall in the smoking area, full of passion and adrenaline and just total love and devotion that you'd both kept buried for each other for years. the only difference is that now, 365 days on, you know exactly how to kiss matty to make him melt - a moan slips from his throat as you softly swipe your tongue around the perimeter of his lips, which in turn makes you smile, and another follows when you gently bite his lower lip and drag it to release. but it's the way you beam at him afterwards, breathing just as heavily as he is, that gets matty most, makes him hug you as tightly as he can and press little kisses all over your face and hair and get you giggling (his favourite sound in the world).

once you've both caught your breath, kissed some more, and caught your breath again, you speak. “d'you want your anniversary present now, baby?”

matty grins. “yeah. you want yours?”

“yeah,” you beam. reaching across to your bedside table, you take out a little wrapped gift and hand it to him. “for you.”

“thank you, sweet girl,” matty kisses your forehead, rolling off you to pull a thin box from his bag at the side of the bed. “for you.”

“thanks, darling,” you kiss him softly. “go on, you open yours first.”

“alright,” matty carefully rips the brown paper - after smiling, lovesick, at for the love of my life written on it in your unmistakable handwriting - to find what looks like a zine, small enough to fit in his back pocket. he laughs in slight shock at the cover, displaying both of your first initials in a heart and subtitled year one, and this continues when he flicks through the pages. the very first has a picture of the two of you at that fateful birthday party, taken by a friend across the table, as well as one of the receipt for dinner, with little hearts drawn on either side of the listing for your favourite wine; the next, a short typed-out musing ‘written on matty's couch. he's in love with me. he knows i'm in love with him. i've never been so happy in my life. i fell asleep thinking my heart might burst, and that feeling hasn't left me at all. this is true love. i know it now’.

flicking through the pages - he so badly wants to spend time poring over every single one, but he knows now isn't the time - matty feels the exact same way. you've always been shockingly good at gift-giving when it comes to him, but this… this is the best thing anyone's ever done for him.

he doesn't even think love is a strong enough word to describe how he feels about you, to be honest.

you smile when he tells you as much, lifting his hand to kiss it. “i'm glad you like it, baby. i had a lot of fun compiling everything. it was just constant reminders of how much i love you - although, i agree, it's not a strong enough word. maybe i should come up with an alternative. like how coleridge did with soulmate.”

“thank fuck he did, by the way,” matty sighs, leaning in to kiss you. “what would i call you otherwise?”

“i'm sure you'd figure it out. you're very good with words.”

“not when it comes to you, darling,” he smiles. “and that's actually relevant to your gift, so…”

“point taken,” you wink, lifting the lid. your beautiful face takes on a confused expression as you lift out a thin, a3-sized hardback book. “this looks like one of your lyric books from stage…”

“it does, a bit, yeah.”

“...and it has my name on the front,” your jaw drops, and you open the book so frantically that matty can't help but giggle; he laughs even harder when you look up at him, aghast. “this is a score. you wrote me a song?”

“kind of, sweetheart. i mean, i've written you lots of songs already-”

“but none explicitly with my name!”

“no, that's true,” matty moves to sit behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. he feels you relax immediately, which is good, because for a second he thought you were about to go into genuine shock. “and this one is slightly different in another way, too.”

“it is?”

“yeah. look - there aren't any lyrics,” he takes your hand in his own, dragging your finger over the score to show blankness where the words would appear over the stave. “when i said a minute ago that i wasn't good with words when it comes to you, i mean it. you're literally the only person in the world that can render me speechless; trying to concisely convey everything i love about you in words that 1) made sense and 2) worked in a song was impossible. so i figured i would just let the music do the talking,” matty kisses your head. “no lyrics, parts for almost a full orchestra plus the instruments i'm used to writing for… this isn't a song, darling, it's a symphony, the one that plays in my head whenever i think about you.”

“matthew,” your voice is shaky when you say his name; when you turn to look at him, he notices your jaw is too, the telltale sign that you're about to burst into tears. “i think you're absolutely fucking mental. and i love you, i love you, i love you,” your voice cracks into a sob on the last you, and you bury your face in your boyfriend's neck while you cry. “that's the most romantic thing anyone could do, i think, and you did it for me. what the fuck!”

matty giggles, caressing your back and kissing your head soothingly. “s'the least i could do, really.”

“oh, shut up.”

“alright,” he coaxes you out of hiding, wiping your tears away and kissing your nose. “i'll play it for you when we get to a piano tomorrow, yeah?”

“i'd like that,” you peck his lips. “thank you, my love.”

“you're welcome, darling. and thank you for the little zine about us - can't wait to read that tomorrow, too.”

you nod happily - suddenly, your eyes widen. “wait! that reminds me: i got you something else too. and i want us to use them tomorrow.”

“let's see, then,” matty sits up in anticipation, but almost immediately slumps back down exasperatedly when he sees the rolling papers in your hand. “baby…”

“what? it's on-theme!” you grin. “it’s paper! the thing you're meant to give and get to celebrate a first anniversary. and, let's be serious, it was me wanting to smoke that got us here, wasn't it?” 

“you’re incorrigible, sweetheart,” matty shakes his head, hand tracing patterns into your thigh; he can't help but smile, though. “but alright - tomorrow, at some point, we'll smoke.” 

“promise?”

“for fuck's sake,” he sighs. “i promise, even though i think you're demented.” 

you beam. “thanks. i love you!” 

“i love you, too, darling.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #into the birthday partyverse #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

[toomuchracket]

queen of hearts (birthday party!matty x reader fluff)

penultimate day of valentine's week. this is a short and sweet one about you appearing at a signing with matty for the first time, a couple of months into dating. enjoy <3

“i really don't know what to wear today.”

matty leans round the doorframe, toothbrush hanging from his mouth exactly the same way a cigarette usually does. “just wear whatever,” he shrugs, voice muffled by toothpaste; he disappears to spit, and smirks at you when he returns. “go like that, even.”

“in my underwear?” you scoff. “who are we? kimye?”

your boyfriend laughs. “i love you.”

you sigh. “if you really did, you'd help me pick out an outfit.”

“baby, it's just an album signing, it's not fashion week. but alright,” matty stands behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, scrutinising the contents of the two weekend bags you've emptied onto his bed. “i like that skirt there,” he points at a long satin black and white swirly thing. “you could wear it with one of my t-shirts, if you wanted?”

his voice sounds so tender you can't help but smile, leaning round to kiss his cheek. “would you want me to wear one of your t-shirts with it, darling?”

“yeah,” matty nuzzles his face into your neck. “maybe that my bloody valentine top you've secretly had your eye on for years.”

“i have not!”

“liar,” he pinches your bare hip, kissing your neck when you yelp before letting go of you to rifle through his wardrobe. “here,” he returns with the t-shirt. “arms up, sweetheart.”

“m’not a baby, you know,” you grumble, as matty puts the top on for you.

“yeah, you are,” he beams when your face reappears from the fabric, taking it in his hands and kissing all over it. “my baby, my baby.”

“betting on losing dogs, are we?”

“hmm? wait, don’t tell me, i know this one, i do,” your boyfriend closes his eyes, reopening them and squinting in anticipation. “... mitski?”

you cheer, kissing him. “yes!”

he grins. “i listened to that album. liked it.”

“it's a good one,” you pull your skirt on and slip into your shoes; matty automatically kneels to help you lace them. “i think - oh, thanks, babe - yeah, i think i might see if i can buy it on vinyl today, actually.”

“dunno if you'll be able to, darling,” matty kisses your thigh through your skirt. “the amount of fans who've asked me if you're coming today? i reckon you'll be bombarded the whole time.”

“really?”

“yeah. people love you!” your boyfriend stands, kissing you deeply. “but not as much as i do. obv.”

“love you,” you kiss him again. “even when you're being delusional about how popular i am amongst your fanbase.”

“i'm right.”

“whatever you say, baby.”

as much as it pains you to admit it, when you begin to near the record shop in the car, it's clear that he really is. while you're in the middle of a conversation (interrogation, really) with ross about the mutual acquaintance of yours he’s started seeing - a travel photographer you know from condé nast meetings - matty elbows you in the ribs. “sorry, darling, i didn't mean to do that so hard. just got excited,” he grins, gesturing with his head to something on the street outside the window. “look at that girl's tote bag.”

grumbling, rubbing your sore chest, you squint to see what he means; when you do, your jaw drops. “fuck off. is that me?”

“yeah! as one of those saint candles!” matty laughs. “wonder where she got it. i want one. i'm gonna ask,” when the car stops, traffic gridlocked, he opens the window and leans out, while you facepalm and ross winces. “yo! love the tote bag! where'd you get it?”

“i made it!” a voice calls back, barely audible amidst the shrieks of the people around it. “i can make you one, too, matty!”

“would you? oh, thank you, darling. you're coming to the signing, yeah?”

“yeah!”

“alright. we'll talk then. see you!”

“tell your girlfriend i love her!”

matty laughs. “she's right here, she heard!”

the shrieks get even louder. your jaw drops, and ross laughs. “maybe you should wave to them, mate.”

“this is fucking insane,” you mutter in disbelief, undoing your seatbelt and shuffling to sit on matty's lap; his hands make their way around your waist on instinct, and you lean out the window somewhat nervously. “um. hi, guys?”

the scream you get in response is almost deafening - the six girls, none of whom look older than nineteen, look totally ecstatic to see you, squealing your name and waving so excitedly you can't quite comprehend it. you grin, and laugh when the one with the tote bag brandishes it towards you with a cry. “my patron saint!”

“oh, bless you,” you wink, and matty kisses your shoulder (out of sight of the audience) as they all laugh. “how are you guys, anyway? excited?”

the chatter restarts, but the smallest girl piques your attention first. “yeah! this is my first 75 album signing. i'm hyped!”

“is it?” matty pokes his head out, at the exact same time you say “mine too”. he kisses your cheek. “aww, that's cute. i mean, i've been going to your book signings for years, but,” he exaggeratedly rolls his eyes, and ross laughs from the other side of the car. “whatever.”

you sigh, turning to the girls. “what my darling boyfriend failed to mention is that i'd send him a signed copy - with a personal message, mind you - of everything i published, as pr, and he'd still show up and buy another one and make me sign it,” you ruffle his hair. “matty healy tree murderer confirmed.”

“but that's so sweet,” one of the girls sighs.

matty points at her. “exactly! and,” he looks at you adoringly. “i just like hearing you talk. that's why i came to all the events.”

this isn't news to you, but it melts your heart nonetheless. still, you can't resist - “simp”.

“says the woman who spent three hours watching tiktok edits of me yesterday.”

the girls cackle, collapsing into each other giggling in the unique way only young women do. “real,” one of them shouts, laughing even harder when you salute to her. “oh my god, i love you!”

matty turns to you, smug. “see?” he turns back to the window. “she didn't believe me earlier, when i told her you guys were hoping she'd come with me today. underestimated how much you love her.”

“yeah, yeah,” you rest your head against his. “he’s right, though - this is surprising to me. but very lovely, you guys are sweet.”

“and you guys are perfect,” tote bag girl grins. “seriously. it's so good to see you both so happy. please don't break up, ever, it would be worse for me than my actual parents’ divorce.”

you gasp out an “oh my god”, while matty giggles. “nah, no need to worry,” he looks at you with such tenderness you could cry. “she's it for me, the love of my life; if she leaves me, i'm going with her.”

“as if i'd ever leave you. love you too much to do that,” you scoff, tugging him into you for a hug. a retching noise from the other side of the car breaks your little reverie, and you giggle. “sorry for making you sit through the sappiness, ross.”

“wait, ross is here too?!”

#mads muses #mads does writing #into the birthday partyverse #valentine75 #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

[toomuchracket]

dancing like she way out (george daniel x reader smut)

shag the dj shag the dj shag the dj, or whatever the smiths said. basically - a night out takes a turn for the better when you hook up with the hot dj. won't lie, there's use of the d word in here. and choking, because we've all seen that man's hands. enjoy <3

all your friends are wasted, and you hate this club.

no, really - three of them are currently spewing their guts up in the toilets after going too hard on the tequila rose, while the rest flail wildly on the dancefloor in between queuing at the bar to buy yet another round of overpriced jagerbombs. meanwhile, you're doing your best to dodge the extremely persistent man you first swerved about an hour ago, some palm angels-clad twat with shit hair and an inability to take no for an answer, and also doing your best not to spill your vodka cranberry all over yourself in the process.

in short, you're having a shitter of a night.

at least the dj's fit, though. really fit. and, to be fair, he’s spinning some decent stuff. the one saving grace of the night, you'd say.

you watch him from the edge of the dancefloor, empty cup in hand. he's quite focused, more so than some of the wankers you've been dragged to see in this club in the past, only looking up to signal to the bar staff that he needs a refill and to check the vibe of the room. he has pretty eyes, you notice, sharp and dark and clear; eyes that could definitely get you to commit a multitude of sins, quite frankly.

and now? they're looking right at you.

looking isn't a strong enough word, actually. they drag slowly down your body - locking with your own, then travel to your pouty, brown-lined lips, and shamelessly over the curves of your body onto your legs - leaving a trail of thrill-induced goosebumps across your skin in their wake. suddenly, they flick back up to your face, and one closes in a wink. you smirk, and the dj does too.

interesting.

one of your more sober friends nudges you, handing you another vodka. you accept it without breaking eye contact with the dj, wrapping your lips around the straw and smiling with it between your teeth. he raises his eyebrows, still smirking, and you wink; your friend notices, and leans round so you can see her. “are you eye-fucking the dj?”

“maybe,” you reluctantly tear your eyes from him to look at her. “in my defence, he started eye-fucking me first.”

she laughs, tugging you onto the floor and motioning for you to dance. “i think we should keep him looking at you, then.”

“alright,” you down your drink and set down the cup. “let's dance.”

and so, you do, pulling out all the stops. your hair flows behind you as you swing your hips, body twisting and turning and stretching as you lose yourself under the lights and amidst the beat, and you laugh excitedly with your friend as she twirls you. the dancefloor is so empty that you can spin to your heart's content, but that doesn't bother you at all - it means there's less for the object of your efforts to be distracted by, more chance that his attention is on you.

it seems to be completely on you, actually; every time you catch a glimpse of him, his eyes are on you again, and your friend attests to that in your ear as she pulls you in for a hug. “he hasn't stopped looking at you, for even a second. that man wants you, babe.”

you angle your body towards the deck so you can see him. the club lighting is simultaneously sheering out his black shirt and throwing both his stubbled face and tattooed arms into focus - fuck, his arms. 

and he's still looking at you.

“i think you might be right,” you turn back to your friend so she can hear you, deliberately leaning forward and shaking your ass slightly in his direction. “and i want him too.”

she shoves you towards the deck. “go and get him, then.”

with a giggle, you set off, swinging your hips as you all but skip towards the extremely sexy man behind the music. unfortunately for you, some arsey man in too-tight chinos gets to the deck first; folding your arms, you stand behind him, miffed, and wait your turn to speak.

luckily, you only have to do that for a couple of seconds. the guy isn't particularly drunk, but he's annoying. “hey, bro,” he says to the dj, whose handsome face is set in an expression full of what can only be described as ennui. you assume he sees this kind of thing all the time. “can you play some, like, chainsmokers? that would be so sound of you.”

chainsmokers? christ.

clearly, your distaste is showing, because the dj's face slips into a tiny smirk as he looks at you out of the corner of his eye; it disappears, though, before he replies. “‘fraid not, mate…”

his fucking voice. dear god. who is this man, and where has he been all your life?

“...i don't take requests.”

you believe it. everything about the dj screams control, and with every passing second your want to submit to that control is growing. it's not want you have for him any more, but sheer fucking need.

the other guy shrugs and wanders off, and the attention is all on you again. leaning over the mixing board towards you, the dj smirks again. “you, however, can ask me for anything you like.”

fuck. keep it together, bitch.

“anything?” you smile, saccharine, carefully leaning on the side of the deck in such a way that it pushes your boobs up. “even cascada?”

he rolls his eyes. “and here i thought you had taste.”

“whatever made you think that?”

“you picked out that dress to wear tonight, yeah?”

christ. “yeah. you like it?”

he nods, taking a sip of his drink. “it's gorgeous on you. but i think most things would be.”

you blush, revelling in the compliment before shooting your shot. “present company included?”

“jesus,” he shakes his head, and for the briefest of moments you worry that you've lost him. but then he looks up, hunger in those fucking eyes of his, and smirks again. “is that what you want, angel? to go somewhere together and find out?”

the ease with which the pet name falls from his lips is staggering, so much so that you can merely nod. that's not good enough for him, though - “need you to talk to me, beautiful.”

“sorry, sorry,” you compose yourself (with great difficulty). “yes, that's what i want.”

“s'reciprocated,” he smiles, genuinely. “i’m george, by the way.”

you smile in response, and introduce yourself. george says your name, slowly, and you fear that your legs might give way. “pretty,” he replies. “i like how you feel on my tongue.”

the words practically shoot straight into the scrap of fabric you call panties, and your jaw drops. george giggles. “you're cute when you're flustered, angel.”

“shame. i don't tend to make a habit of that.”

“hmmm,”  he clicks his tongue. “i'll need to work on that, then.”

you smile, radiant. “promise?”

“promise,” george smiles. he checks his watch, and you try not to drool at the way his arms flex. or his hands - god, look at his hands! “s'almost closing time. meet me back here in half an hour?”

“looking forward to it,” you blow him a kiss, preening at the way he blushes. “see you in a bit, gorgeous.”

he winks again. you turn and walk back to your friends, who have gathered along the edge of the dancefloor to watch your exchange with the dj. they huddle around you like a rugby scrum when you near them, a cacophony of slurred voices asking what and where and who and when and how; you gesture for them to follow you to the smoking area, where - to much excitement - you relay the details to them in the breaks between nicotine hits, and hug them all goodnight before you have to go back inside, them to the cloakroom and you to the dj.

your wingwoman friend is the last one you bid farewell to - she links arms with you to walk back into the sweaty club, doing the pre-prepared spiel you give each other when you pull. “have fun, but don't be stupid. if it's his place you end up at, then send me your location. i'll phone you in the morning, alright?”

“yeah,” you kiss her cheek. “thanks for all your help.”

“no problem. stay safe, have the best time,” she grins. “and i want details at the pub quiz on tuesday.”

“noted,” you hug her again as you reach the place to part ways. “love you. goodnight.”

“get it, bitch!” she shouts after you; you turn to salute her and giggle, and then she's gone. with a deep breath and a shake of your hair, you dart past the people starting to head towards the cloakroom, butterflies starting to emerge again as you get closer to george.

he smiles when he sees you, eyes raking over your body once again. “you know,” he says, as you reach the deck. “you really are beautiful.”

“i'm already leaving with you, george, you can drop the flattery,” you roll your eyes, then beam at him. “thank you, though.”

“just stating facts,” george turns some sort of dial, and the music fades to silence. as the club staff usher everyone from the room, he sighs happily. “been waiting to do that since you came up to me earlier.”

“really?”

“yeah,” he unplugs his laptop from the deck, sliding it into a backpack. “you're very distracting, you know, looking so good and dancing like that.”

“well, i try,” you hold out a hand. “ready to go?”

george nods, stepping down beside you - you gawk at the the height of him, towering over you. “fuck me, you're tall.”

he laughs, taking your hand in his. again, the size difference is insane, and you find yourself momentarily nervous to get into bed with him; that soon passes in favour of excitement, though. “don't worry, i'll even out the height thing by getting on my knees soon enough.”

the speed with which you tug him toward the exit at that is almost comical. george only giggles and lets you drag him to the door - he stops when you’re out in the cold air, though. “hold on, angel, i need a cig.”

you nod, standing on the step beside the door while he moves down a few to light his cigarette in peace. his hands, so big, are surprisingly nimble as he pulls a fag from the packet and flicks the lighter on; again, it does something to your core, and you lean against the brick wall to keep yourself steady.

after a few (erotic) drags of the cig, george holds it out to you. wordlessly, you accept, holding eye contact as you take a drag and exhale it in his direction. george's eyes flick to your lips, then back to your own - suddenly, he's kissing you, a hand in your hair and one on the small of your back, your arms looped around his neck. it's not a polite kiss, by any means; george kisses like he’s trying to devour you in the best possible way, stealing all the air from your lungs and inhibitions from your brain, tongue and teeth working against your mouth to get you to give in to him.

like you need any convincing.

a trail of spit connects you as he breaks the sloppy kiss, forehead resting against yours as you both breathe deeply. “fuck, angel,” george sighs, kissing you quickly again. “your place or mine?”

“we can be at my flat in five minutes if we walk quickly.”

“shit. lead the way.”

***

your front door hasn't even fully closed behind you before george is pressing you up against it, grabbing handfuls of your ass and lifting you so he can kiss your lips and neck while he grinds into you. every time his hips meet yours, you feel your eyes roll back into your head and the need for him inside you growing. his teeth meet the skin of your collarbone, and you swear you see stars. “george.”

his head shoots up immediately. “no marks?”

“no, leave as many as you want. it's just,” you whimper as he sucks a bruise into your skin. “i really want you to take me to bed. please?”

he groans at that, peeling you off the wall as he turns. “where…?”

“second door on the left.”

no sooner than the words have left your lips, george is kicking your bedroom door open and all but throwing you onto your bed. hands shaking, you do your best to undo your heels and throw them into a corner as george rids himself of backpack and shirt; you mewl at the sight of him, muscles hardened in the moonlight, and sit up on your knees to clumsily undo his belt.

he shakes his head, moving your hands from him. “you first, angel. arms up, come on, let's get that pathetic excuse for a dress off you.”

“i thought you liked this dress?” you frown, even as you oblige and let him peel the dress up your body.

“i do, but - oh, fuck,” george moans as your almost-bare body is revealed to him. “it was doing an awful job of stopping me thinking about you like this.”

his gaze on you is almost predatory, so much so that it makes you sink back onto your knees in submission, legs slightly open and chest forward. “do i live up to your daydreams, sir? no, wait,” you squint, assessing george to see if you can figure him out. “do i live up to your daydreams, daddy?”

you've hit the nail on the head; george’s eyes close as he swears and undoes his belt, kicking his trousers and shoes off before climbing onto the bed, onto you. he pulls you slowly onto his lap, and rocks you back and forth even more slowly. “does this answer your question, baby?” he murmurs, the gravel in his voice liquifying your insides and sending them straight into your underwear. the friction against his hardness is incredible, and all you can do is whine as you look into those obsidian eyes - again, that's not good enough for george, who delivers a sharp smack to your ass. “words, angel. tell daddy what you think.”

“i - ooh,” you whimper, as george changes angle to one that manages to catch your clit with every grind. “i think i live up to them, yes, daddy. think you wanna fuck me, and - shit - i want that too.”

“my smart girl,” he kisses you again, another head-melter that has you moaning into his mouth. “what else do you want, hmmm? want me to go down on you?”

as tempting as having that mouth between your legs sounds… that isn’t what you want right now. “wake me up like that tomorrow, please,” you savour the way george whines into your neck at the thought. “but right now, i just need you to fill me up, daddy.”

“well, i did say you could ask me for anything you liked,” he grins against you, kissing you quickly before softly laying you down. “fuck, look at you, angel, so fucking beautiful. where have they been keeping you from me all this time?” 

your cheeks burn at the way he bites his lip, trailing his hands over your bare chest and all the way down to your panties. “i mean, seriously,” he hums. “i've never wanted to fuck someone more in my life.”

“so do it. please,” you open your legs, showing him the surely-visible wet patch on your silky underwear. “need you inside me, daddy.”

“alright, alright,” george huffs out a laugh, one of disbelief, as he trails a finger up your clothed slit. “jesus, you’re soaked already. can i take these off?”

“please.”

he smiles, dragging the material down your legs and his fingers through your wetness; evilly, he slides the same hand beneath his boxers to palm himself, groaning. when you protest, he laughs. “just making sure we're both ready, baby. speaking of… protection?”

you say nothing, and just reach across to grab your pill packet from the bedside table and wave it at him.

“noted,” he leans forward to kiss you, before moving back onto his knees to slide his boxers off. as the fabric drops, so does your jaw: you knew from the feeling of him under you that you weren't dealing with something compact, here, but george is fucking huge. like, slightly terror-inducing huge. that said, though, you begin to salivate at the sight of him - he notices this, and giggles. “like what you see?”

“yeah,” wide eyed, you look up at his face, your own breaking into an anticipated smile; tentatively, you reach out to touch his cock, both of you gasping in tandem when you wrap your hand (as best you can) around him, manicured thumb flicking over the pre-cum soaked tip. neither of you break eye contact as you pump him a few times, the sexual tension in the room too magnetic to do so, and when you speak it comes out in a whisper. “how do you want me?”

“how don’t i want you?” george smirks, tapping your wrist to make you let go of him. he shuffles forward, big hands meeting your chest and squeezing gently, and beams when you whine. “fucking love that sound. lie back for me, angel, wanna watch these tits while i make you feel good. that alright?”

“mhmm,” you do as asked, fanning your hair across the pillow and spreading your legs - george can't seem to decide where to look, eyes darting between your face and chest and glistening cunt, and it makes you feel incredible. “like this, daddy?”

he nods. “perfect,” his lips find yours again  as he settles above you, resting his weight on one hand while the other slides between your thighs again. two long fingers tentatively dip into your cunt, and george groans while you gasp at the fullness. christ, if this is how you react to his fingers, then what on earth will it be like when he's actually fucking you? “jesus, baby, you're so fucking tight,” he hisses, eyes heavy as he looks down into yours. “want me to get you off with my hand first, before you take my cock? i mean, you're wet enough that you should be alright, but… i want you to feel good. comfortable. s'all about you, angel.”

shit. you have a sneaking suspicion that this man might genuinely be the death of you. but at least you'll die happy, yeah?

smiling, slightly dazed, you shake your head. “just want you to fuck me, daddy. need it, needed your cock all night.”

“you're sure?” george caresses your cheek.

“i'm sure,” you nod, humming happily as you watch him pump himself and drag his length through your wetness. “put it in, please.”

“sweet girl,” he kisses you, deep and slow, and pushes into you, the same. “oh my god.”

you're speechless, breathless, completely fucking brainless - all you can think about is the utterly delicious way george is stretching you out. nobody you've ever fucked before has really made you relate to the metaphor “rearranging your guts”, but with him it's crystal clear; he's so gentle and you're so turned on that it isn't painful, but he's definitely ruined any other man for you already and he's - you look down to check - not even fully inside you yet.

you giggle, slightly delirious, at that realisation. george smiles at you, groaning as he bottoms out and stills inside you. “feeling good?”

“so fucking good,” you lean up to kiss him, whining against his lips at the slight change in angle. fuck, he’s deep. “fuck me, please.”

he smirks. “magic word?”

“fuck me, please,” you kiss him again, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip then pulling back and whispering. “daddy.”

“good girl,” george pulls your legs around his waist, slowly sliding out of you and back in; you both moan in harmony as he does. “jesus, you feel incredible.”

you preen, beaming up at him - the smile is knocked from your face as he speeds up, though, in favour of your jaw dropping in pleasure. “yeah, that's it. fucking me so good, don't stop, please.”

“not stopping until i get you off, angel, don't worry,” he shifts slightly again, his next thrust hitting a spot inside you that you didn't think existed; when he does, you whimper, the contact sending another gush to your core and shockwaves throughout your body. “oh, you liked that, didn't you, sweet girl? shall i do it again? yeah, i think i will.”

he does, ripping a cry from your throat in the process. your legs quiver around his waist, the repeated hits to the area sparking them into movement, and you clutch desperately at his forearm beside your head. “daddy…”

“what is it, angel?” george leans down to kiss you, still fucking you relentlessly. “tell me what you want.”

your brain is growing hazier by the second, dopamine and serotonin and god knows what else overpowering all your motor functions, but you still manage to oblige. “want - fuck - want you to choke me.”

“fuck,” george’s eyes roll back slightly. “you're sure?”

you nod, stomach contracting in ecstasy. “need it, need you.”

“you're so fucking cute,” he grins, incongruous with the way his big hand wraps around your neck and presses, just enough for you to sigh happily and clench around him. “think you really might be an angel, by the way,” he pants out, never letting the rhythm of his hips drop. “you feel like heaven. look like it, too. and trust me, later on,” he kisses your neck, dragging his tongue up so he can whisper in your ear. “i am going to get on my knees and worship you for hours.”

okay, it's settled - he's perfect. you can never fuck anyone else ever again. “please.”

“‘please’ what, sweet girl? please do that?” he coos, sucking another mark just under your jaw. “or please make you cum?”

“cum,” you choke out from under his hand, legs practically thrashing from how good you feel. “please, daddy.”

“gonna be a good girl and help me, then?” george looks you straight in the eye, his almost completely shut in pleasure. “touch yourself for me. show me what you're gonna do every time you think about this, about me.”

christ alive. you obey (you're not sure that you'd be unable to resist that voice even if you wanted to), grabbing one of your tits in one hand and sliding the other between your bodies to your clit. as soon as you touch the bundle of nerves, the shockwaves pulsing through your body increase tenfold; if not for george above you, grounding you, you reckon you'd have shot off the mattress by now. through a quivering jaw, you talk to him. “m'so close, so fucking close.”

“me too, angel,” george’s eyelids flutter as he talks. “don't fight it - cum for me, my good girl, cum on my fucking cock.”

your body does as it’s told, a final surge of pleasure flowing through your body so strongly that you actually black out for a second; your fuse is relit by george groaning, gravel and guttural, in your ear, imminent climax signalled by his hips falling out of rhythm for the first time so far and his hand slackening on your neck. “oh, fuck, i'm there. can i… inside?”

“yeah,” you breathe out. “fill me up, daddy.”

“shit!”

with a moan of your name, george buries himself to the hilt inside you one final time, thrusting shallow and kissing you fiercely as he paints your insides white. once he’s done, he carefully lies down on top of you and rests his head in the crook of your neck, still inside you as you both catch your breath. despite finishing last, he’s the first to speak, moving to hover over you and kiss you again. “i'm so glad you decided to go out tonight.”

“me too,” you giggle. “same again next week?”

“absolutely. i'll be the one waiting by the speakers.”

#and yes i DID crop matthew out of the pic thank you for asking #mads muses #mads does writing #george daniel fanfiction #george daniel fanfic #george daniel fic #george daniel x reader #george x reader #george daniel smut

[toomuchracket]

costumes (birthday party!matty x reader smut)

day 30 of promptober, and we're coming full circle on toomuchracket with some smut for these two! this is actually incredibly smutty, but kinda cute too - basically, matty's scientist halloween costume is really bloody doing it for you. enjoy! <3

"text me so i know you're home safe, yeah?"

"of course, babe. thanks for having us," your friend kisses your cheek, before being pulled away by her fiancé towards the waiting taxi. "and don't forget - bridesmaid dress shopping next week!"

"like you'd let me forget!" you shout after her. "bye, darlings!"

you wave until the gate closes behind them, and you're about to shut the front door when you hear matty call from the bottom of the steps down to the living room. "ah! wait a second before you close that door, please, sweetheart."

"why, baby?" your brow furrows, as your boyfriend walks slowly up towards you, the lab coat he's wearing as part of his scientist costume blowing slightly in the breeze from the open door. "d'you need fresh air, or something?"

matty smiles softly, leaning against the concrete wall when he reaches you and the landing. "nah. just wanted to look at you in the moonlight, s'all. you're glowing, babe."

"you- stop it, you're making me blush," you huff out; not in irritation, but rather slightly self-consciously, arms wrapping around your body as if to shield it from your boyfriend's gaze. you know he means it - he's complimented you in a similarly devastating way almost daily for the past eight months, after all - but you can't help but be overwhelmed by it. and by matty in general, actually.

the boyfriend in question giggles, and the love in his eyes is unmistakable even in the dim, pale moonlight. "but it's true! you're ethereal. apt, i guess, given the angel costume. which i still think is lovely, even if it is just white lingerie and a halo. not that i'm saying you shouldn't have worn it - not at all, my god, you look perfect - but i'd have appreciated a warning, sweetheart. thought my knees were going to give way when you walked into the kitchen earlier."

the memory of matty's face when he first saw you tonight crosses your mind, pulling a satisfied hum from your throat as it does. you'd suspected the white silk babydoll dress would have an effect on him, but not to the extent it did; he's pretty good at keeping his cool whenever you rile him up around your friends (inadvertently or not), but he almost dropped his wine glass in time with his jaw when you entered the room, eyes widening under his glasses.

those fucking glasses.

"mine almost did, too, baby," you gently close the door and walk slowly towards your boyfriend, swaying your hips very deliberately so your dress swishes and exposes your bare thighs.

just as you'd intended, matty's eyes lock onto your legs, pretty lips parting in desire - annoyingly, though, he snaps out of your little trance to look up at your face and smirk. "well, those heels are really high, sweetheart."

"i mean, yeah, but that's not the reason my legs almost gave out, baby," you smile as you reach matty, moving to lean your back against the wall beside him, looping your arms around his shoulders and tugging him into you. shifting your weight onto one leg (and winking at your boyfriend when he holds your waist to steady you), you cheekily slide the side of your foot up the side of his shin. "do you like my heels, though?"

matty's breath catches in his throat, which he has to clear before he speaks. "they're… yeah, they're sexy. i like them a lot. but," he regains control of himself again, which would irk you if he wasn't so sexy when he's self-assured. "if it wasn't the shoes that affected you, darling, then what was it? or who, perhaps?"

the smirk drops from your face, while a shit-eating grin appears on matty's. you sigh, twirling his curls around your fingers. "you're really going to make me admit it?"

"you know i like it when you tell me what gets you going, darling," matty's hands slide down your hips and up under your dress, coming (home) to rest on your ass. you shiver, partially from his cool touch, partially from the way his lips ghost up your neck. "come on. open up, gorgeous."

"it - oh, i like that," you whimper as your boyfriend sucks a bruise above your clavicle. "jesus, fuck… ok, fine, it was your glasses that got me."

matty's head snaps up to look at you immediately; you pout at the loss of his lips on your skin. "my glasses?"

"yeah," you look at the ground, feeling the heat of a blush creeping up your cheeks. "i think they're really sexy."

"really? in what way?"

you nervously peek at matty, expecting to see him smirking smugly at you - you're pleasantly surprised to see he looks genuinely curious. "promise you won't laugh?"

your boyfriend nods. "cross my heart."

"alright. well," you begin, smiling shyly at him. "this is kinda porny…"

you don't think you've ever seen matty's eyes light up so quickly in your life. boys, honestly.

"...but you look like a really hot nerd tonight, and i haven't stopped thinking about, like, pretending to sneak you into my bedroom so you can help me with my biology homework. reproduction," you giggle nervously at how daft you sound. "i know it's silly. but it's all i can think about."

matty's hands pause their gentle kneading. he stays silent, looking at you with an unreadable expression in his eyes and the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

that smile should make you feel alright about your fantasy, but it's matty. he's never quiet. neither are you, in this moment, panic making you babble. "but like obviously we've never tried roleplay and actually i don't know if i'd even like it i just think in theory it's hot and of course if you're not into it we can just forget i ever said anything and never address it again and-"

"darling," matty firmly cuts off your rambling, which you're actually quite thankful for given that your body's oxygen supply is rapidly depleting with every word. "does this make it seem like i'm not into it?"

his hands slip to the backs of your thighs and lift you up, eliciting a squeak from you as you automatically wrap your legs around your boyfriend's waist. he grinds his hips into you, as slow as dripping honey, and all nerves about his response to your admittance slip out of your mind, under the front door, off into the cold night.

matty's hard. really hard.

it's your face's turn to light up. "you like my daydream, then?"

"wanna make it a reality, sweetheart," matty smiles, kissing you - long and slow, just the way you like it. he blinks quite adorably when he pulls away for air. "right now, if you'll let me."

"please," you breathe against his lips. "been waiting for everyone else to fuck off all night so you could take me to bed."

"oh, sweet girl, you needed me that much?" matty coos, grinding into you again as he does. "let's go and do something about that, then."

with that, you set off, matty carrying you through the house to the bedroom with surprising speed. you don't know why you're surprised, though - you've done this too many times to count since that first night you got together. a happy little hum leaves your lips as you remember that night - the best of your life, it has to be said - and how desperate you were for matty to fuck you. nothing's changed on that front; you don't think it ever will.

he's gotten better at laying you down on the bed, though. instead of the graceless chucking of your first time, matty sets you down gently at the end of the bed and crawls over you, caging your body to the mattress and locking his lips onto yours. it's not a sweet kiss, by any means; his teeth sink deliciously into your lip, just the perfect amount of painful, and his tongue follows, soothing the bite and adding the pleasure. matty kisses like he does everything in life, with total conviction and determination, and you can't get enough. so much so that you can't stop yourself whining when he pulls away.

"oh, you are needy today, darling," matty smirks. "i love it. and i love you."

"i love you," you sit up on your elbows to kiss him again. "make me feel good, please?"

"always," matty kisses your forehead, hands trailing up to your shoulders, dexterous fingers sliding under the straps of your dress. "may i?"

for the second, but likely not the last time tonight: "please."

he obliges, sliding the straps and cups of your lingerie down, gently lifting your hips to slide the silk off your body and throw it carelessly to the floor. half-naked, you rest back on your elbows and just drink in the way matty looks at you with a cocktail of adoration and sheer want in his eyes; an odd mix, really, but you think it's delicious.

and as content as you are to have him look at you like that, you'd be more content reminding him of how delicious you are. careful that your stilettos don't catch on the bedsheets, you pull your knees closer to you and spread your legs. "i think i'm ready to begin my lesson now."

matty smirks. it's devastatingly attractive. "will you be a good girl for me?"

you steal his line. "always."

"that's what i like to hear. gold star for you, darling," he leans forward to kiss you again, but springs back quickly to gawk at you. "wait a fucking minute."

"what?"

that bloody smirk again. "this is all to do with your academic validation thing, isn't it?"

that's the thing about matty - he knows you better than you know yourself. shit. the blush returns full force to your cheeks, burning enough to heat your whole naked body on this chilly october night. "fuck. probably. is that a turn-off?"

"is it fuck," matty scoffs. he cups one of your tits, smiling at the way you jerk when he gently squeezes it. "i fucking love praising you, baby, almost as much as i love getting you off. and i'm about to do both of those things. yeah?"

"yeah," you reply breathily, as his other hand comes up to your other tit. "fuck, that's good."

matty hums happily. "lesson number one, gorgeous," he quickly pushes his glasses back up his nose, and you clench your thighs at the sight. "breasts. a quick lesson, because they're not too involved in the stage of reproduction we're learning about today, but," he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, smiling around the bud as you moan. "they're fun to play with during it. understand?"

your head is spinning, and he hasn't even properly done anything yet; you force it to nod, pre-empting his request for verbal answers and squeaking out a "yes". jesus. telling matty about this fantasy was a great idea.

he seems to think so too, sliding his hand down your body and beaming when he makes contact with your soaked underwear. "oh, sweetheart, i think i'm going to need a closer look at this."

"wait," you sit up quickly as matty prepares to shuffle further down the bed, carefully taking his glasses off and putting them safely on the bedside table. "there we go."

matty's brow furrows. "but i need those?"

you smirk. "not if you're going get up close and personal with me, you don't. feel free to put them back on later, though!"

"fair enough, darling," matty moves to kneel on the floor at the foot of the bed, tugging you towards him by the calves. "let me just… uncover the next specimen for analysis, yeah?"

with a giggle, you lift your hips so your boyfriend can slide your panties off; with a wink, he puts them in the breast pocket of his lab coat, and spreads your legs again. there's something really fucking hot about matty being fully clothed while you're naked, save your heels, and you feel the heat shoot straight to your core; it must show visibly, too, because matty groans as he looks at your cunt from millimetres away. "a fucking perfect specimen. and," he presses a kiss to your inner thigh as he looks up at you. "already nicely aroused. very nicely, to be precise."

fuck. this is doing it for you far more than you expected, probably because matty's committing to the bit so much. not that you'd expect anything less from him, but it's good that he's having just as much fun with this as you are.

the praise makes you preen. "all for you, baby."

"good girl."

another gush. matty's face lights up. "beautiful," he smiles at you, that full-face beam you'd do absolutely anything to see, and your heart feels like it might pack in from how much you love him. "and more than ready for our next lesson. are you happy to continue, sweet girl?"

"eagerly so."

"ideal. now, this section isn't strictly intrinsic to the act of reproduction, but i maintain that if you aren't including it you don't deserve to reproduce. or do anything at all, for that matter," matty says matter-of-factly, and you have to cover your mouth to prevent bursting into laughter and killing the mood. "female pleasure. i assume you're familiar with the sensation, darling?"

"extremely."

your boyfriend can't help himself. "too fucking right you are, my girl," he clears his throat and composes himself. "anyway. clitoral stimulation - often overlooked or deeply misunderstood by the male subspecies, a truth you'll unfortunately likely also be familiar with, but extremely pleasurable to the receiver and giver if done correctly. there are multiple methods of stimulation; one of the most common is digital. that is, with the digits, like so."

as his sentence draws to a close, matty's calloused thumb quickly finds your clit and begins circling slowly. as soon as he makes contact with the bundle of nerves, a choked moan escapes your lips, the first of a series of sounds your boyfriend draws out of you as he varies tempo and pressure of his hand movements. an epicurean symphony isn't the only thing matty manages to draw out of your body as he works your clit; after a few minutes and several rough kisses to your inner thighs, you can feel an orgasm building within your body, matty seemingly pulling pure pleasure out of your very bones through your clit.

agonisingly, just as you open your mouth to warn him of your imminent climax, he slows down his circling. "of course, other methods may be preferred dependent on the individual giver. for example, in my own personal opinion, the superior form of clitoral stimulation is… oral."

jesus christ.

you're barely able to inhale a full breath before matty's mouth is on you, and you lose it all anyway by screaming as his lips and tongue suck and lick and flick at your clit. he's relentless, all composure gone, tugging you impossibly closer to his eager mouth as he all but makes out with your just-as-eager cunt. the pleasure builds again inside you, faster this time, and you can feel yourself beginning to teeter on the precipice of orgasm when…

he fucking pulls away again. the bastard.

you whine, and matty kisses your lower stomach in what appears to be apology. "i know, sweetheart, i know," he coos, thumb feather-light on your clit. "you're being such a good girl for me, learning all your lessons so well. one more lesson to go, my darling, and then i'll make you feel good without interruption, yeah?"

"promise?" you croak out.

"i promise, sweet girl," matty nods. "because this is where it starts to get a bit more like the classic act of reproduction - we're introducing penetration. now," he slides two fingers up and down your cunt, covering them in your wetness and pressing them on the sides of your clit, making you jolt. "this can be done as an independent act, but i think it's a lot more gratifying - and fun - to pair it with the oral stimulation from before. start with the penetration," matty slowly pushes his fingers inside you and thrusts them back and forth, both your jaws dropping at the feeling. "my god, that's good - and then add your mouth back into the equation, like so."

he literally announced it was coming, and still the feeling of matty's lips on your clit as he finger-fucks you has you screaming. if you could keep your eyes from rolling back into your head at the sheer amount of pleasure coursing through your body right now, you'd maybe notice the way matty's concernedly flick up to your face to make sure you're alright - when he confirms your screams are the good kind, his eyes soften, but the black lust within them doesn't disappear. if anything, it gets darker the closer your boyfriend pushes you to the edge, the inaudible analytical murmurs of "you can add another finger for extra stimulation" and "hook them inside to stimulate the g-spot" and god knows what else vibrating through your clit and into your already-fraught nervous system.

it's almost too much for you to handle. your jaw is locked in place, throat muscles tightened to the point where anything but a strangled moan is unable to escape your lips, fingers practically threaded into the sheets themselves as if it's the only thing stopping you from floating away on a cloud of complete ecstasy. ironically, since he's the one making you feel so ecstatic, it's actually matty that's keeping you tethered to this earthly plane - his muscled arms are locked around your convulsing thighs as he sucks and finger-fucks you within an inch of your life. even then, you're still almost dipping in and out of consciousness, of reality, so strong is the buildup of pleasure within you.

you're not sure exactly what it is that finally triggers it, or how long it's taken you to get to that point. but matty does something, and you actually feel something twinge in your cunt as the buildup of pleasure erupts inside you. and that's it.

for the first time in your life, you squirt. you scream matty's name so loudly you almost lose your voice, as you cum so hard that you gush all over your boyfriend's hand and face, a motion you're only vaguely aware of in between split-second long blackouts as your body tries to recover.

matty quickly pulls his fingers from you, a string of excited swear words leaving his mouth as he processes what just happened. he's hovering over you within seconds of your orgasm ending, holding your face in his hands and speaking softly as you come to. "oh, my good girl, my perfect girl, that was absolutely incredible. fuck. how did that feel, darling? how do you feel now? are you alright? talk to me, sweetheart, please."

"felt perfect," you manage to breathe out, smiling dazedly at the gorgeous man above you. "feel so good. thank you."

"i love you," matty kisses you, short and sweet. "that was just… i don't think i'll ever be able to stop thinking about it. i know i say this about something every time i see you naked, but that was the hottest thing i've ever experienced, darling. honestly. i've never been more turned on."

"mmm, love you," you bring a shaky hand up to caress matty's cheek; he turns his head slightly to kiss your palm. "and i want you to feel good now. wanna have sex with you, please."

"are you sure you feel up to it?"

"i am. i do. i want you, baby."

"jesus," matty rests his head on your chest for a second. "alright. but i don't think i have the control to do another lesson roleplay, darling - need to fuck you too much."

you shrug. "i'm a kinesthetic learner anyway. show me what's what!"

matty laughs, quickly yanking off his lab coat and tie. "you're my favourite fucking person on the planet," he kisses your nose while he unbuttons his shirt and throws it to the ground too.

stretching, you sigh happily at the sight of his tattooed torso. "you're just saying that because you made me squirt all over you."

"nah, that's just a bonus," your boyfriend grins, kicking off his trousers. "i mean it, though, you really are my favourite. gonna marry you someday."

a gentle wave of love washes over you. "really?"

"really. but first," matty teases your hole with the head of his dick. "i'm going to fuck you."

he's inside you immediately after the words leave his mouth, sinking into you with a moan you echo in your slightly-broken voice. "shit, babe," matty moans, lips tangy with the taste of your arousal. "you feel too good - there's no way i'm going to last long."

"s'ok, baby," you whimper, legs on your boyfriend's shoulders. "you've made me feel amazing, s'about time you took a turn."

despite his exertion - he really is fucking you determinedly - matty huffs out a laugh. "sweetheart, that doesn't mean we won't be able to get you off again," he smirks, not unkindly, tenderly brushing a stray hair from your face. "if it's not too sensitive, can you be my good girl and rub your clit for me, make yourself feel good?"

oh, fuck. you nod, brain and voice taking a second to catch up to your head and neck. "i can do that."

"show me."

eyes locked on matty's, you bring your hand to your clit, and rub the same slow circles your boyfriend did on you earlier. "like this?"

"yeah, just like that, shit," matty's thrusts quicken; you speed up your circling to match, whining and clenching around him as another orgasm quickly approaches. "fuck, baby, are you gonna cum again for me?"

"yeah."

"do it then, sweetheart," matty pants, bringing his head down to rest in the crook of your neck. your free hand tangles itself in his hair, and he moans into your skin as he speeds up yet again. "whenever you're ready… cum."

still sensitive from your earlier earth-shattering climax, and driven to the edge by the combination of your own hand, matty's hips driving into yours, and his fucking voice, another orgasm crashes through you. it's nowhere near as strong as the first, but it's enough to pull your boyfriend to the edge with you. "darling," he manages to croak out, thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier the better he feels inside. "where can i cum?"

"on my face, please," you pant, chest heaving with aftershocks. "s'only fair, after i came on yours."

the mere mention of your earlier orgasm is enough to tip matty off the edge. groaning the sexiest groans you've ever heard, matty pulls out of your ruined cunt as you sit up closer to him, jerking himself to a finish all over your elated face. it's a bit depraved, but you fucking love it. you fucking love him.

once he's decorated you sufficiently, matty collapses onto your chest, breathing like he's just run a marathon. he's spent, you both are, but he still finds the energy to sit straight up and look at you with a panicked expression. "baby, you had your wings on that whole time?!"

"hmm?" you lazily turn your head to look at your own shoulder. sure enough, the elastic strap of your angel wings is still there; you tentatively lift it, to find the skin underneath red and tender. but still, you giggle. "oh, shit, that's fun! wait, i must still have my halo on, too, then."

"yeah, you do," matty smiles lovingly at you. "it's quite a sight, actually, baby, your halo askew and my cum all over your face."

"well, the wonky halo is thematic, i s'pose," you laugh. "considering what we just did wasn't very angelic."

matty kisses your jaw. "nah, you were a good girl for me. still an angel in my eyes, albeit a slightly slutty angel."

"your slightly slutty angel."

another kiss. "mine, all mine."

#mads muses #mads does writing #into the birthday partyverse #promptober75 #matty healy x reader #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy smut #matty x reader

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promises to keep (flatmate!matty x reader fluff)

matty made a promise to do something for you before you dated, and this is what happens when an opportunity to fulfil it arises once you're together - kinda sorta a sequel to this, but can be read standalone. day 4 of valentine's week. enjoy <3

“matthew? have you got a minute?”

shit. the full name. 

gritting his teeth in a grimace, matty puts down his guitar and follows your voice. “coming now, sweetheart.”

“much appreciated,” comes your tetchy reply. matty winces, wracking his brain in an attempt to figure out why you're not best pleased with him right now, but he comes up short.

he gets it as soon as he enters the kitchen, though; the french press in your hand - and the grumpiness on your pretty, sleepy face - reminds him of everything he needs to know. it also almost manages to stop matty from missing the fact you’re wearing his glassjaw hoodie, a pair of fluffy socks, and very little else. almost. “ah, fuck.”

“indeed,” you say, putting the cafetiere on the counter and frowning (quite adorably, to be honest) at your boyfriend. “actually, that was my exact phrasing when i came in here for a coffee, only to find that the grounds from the last cup hadn't been emptied.”

“m'sorry, baby,” matty moves to hug you.

you, however, have other ideas, and put your arm out to keep him back. “nope! no chance! absolutely not! you can't boyfriend your way out of this one, healy, this is a flatmate issue.”

matty sighs, but he can't exactly argue - the rules on emptying the coffee grounds have been finite since you moved in, the only way to ensure two caffeine-dependent people could cohabit in relative peace. “you're right. i really am sorry, darlin - let me clean it out now, and i'll make you a coffee, yeah?”

“thank you,” your face softens, into the cheeky smirk that never fails to make matty's heart feel funny. “would you make me a bit of toast, too, while you're at it?”

“it'll cost you a kiss, that one.”

“s'pose i could fork out for that,” you wrap your arms around matty's neck, hands sliding home into his hair to pull him down for a kiss. he dips you as you make out, like the two of you are lovers in an old hollywood romance film, and you giggle against his lips as he gently pulls you back to stand. “that was fun!”

“i was kinda scared i'd drop you, i won't lie.”

you laugh, ruffling matty's hair before taking a seat at the breakfast bar. “i would've dragged you with me if you had.”

“i'd expect nothing less,” he smiles, rinsing the coffee grounds from the press and holding it up to the light to check its cleanliness, before popping two slices of bread in the toaster. “what d'you want on your toast, by the way, babe?”

“hmm,” you tilt your head. “do we still have nutella?”

matty squints as he wracks his brain, then rummages around in one of the cupboards. “aha!” he emerges triumphant, almost-empty jar in hand. “enough for toast. but i'll need to get more before the weekend.”

“why? you don't even like it that much.”

“well, what else am i going to put on your valentine’s breakfast pancakes?”

you beam. “am i getting breakfast in bed?”

“course you are,” matty runs over to kiss your nose. “you're getting spoiled, sweetheart.”

“so are you. i was gonna keep it a surprise, but…” you pause dramatically. “i bought new lingerie.”

he drops the butter knife in shock. it hits the countertop with a clatter, and his head almost follows suit. “fuck,” he croaks out. “what colour?”

“dark red. your favourite,” you smile. “i look really sexy in it.”

“i bet you do, baby,” matty sighs happily, pouring coffee into your favourite mug. “can't wait to get into that hotel room and take it off you.”

“me either. and thank you for organising all that, my love. m’excited,” you smile, leaning up to kiss matty as he brings your breakfast over. “thank you for this, too. love you.”

“love you,” he kisses you again. “bring it to the living room? wanna cuddle.”

you nod, picking up your mug and plate and following matty through. he settles on the sofa first, arranging the blankets draped over it and taking your plate from you as you snuggle into his arms. with a kiss to your head, he flicks the tv on, and the two of you sit in contented silence for a little while - with the exception of you crunching your toast - watching animal park. 

matty nudges you when the camera zooms in on a pair of lions curled up together on a rock. “us.”

“really?” you snort, putting your plate on the coffee table. “you think we're lions?”

“yeah. you're the brains behind everything, and i just chill out and have really cool hair.”

you laugh, bringing his hand to your lips and kissing it. “you're an idiot, healy.”

“but i'm your idiot. and i'm right,” matty looks down at you, grinning. “and you've got a little bit of nutella on your lip. here, let me,” he leans down and kisses it away. “there.”

“thanks, lover,” you stretch, snuggling back into your boyfriend with a sigh. “the lions are boring me a bit now, though. what else is on?”

“hmm, let's see,” matty clicks through channels, watching each for a couple of seconds before continuing to search - only when a familiar shot of a girl curled up in a chair reading the bell jar appears does he stop. “oh! babe, look! 10 things!”

“aww, i love this film,” you curl up even further into him, playing with the neck of his t-shirt. “remember when we watched this together in my room?”

matty's voice is quiet when he answers, but you can hear him smile. “thought about it every day since we did, darlin.”

he grins bashfully when you turn to look at him, open-mouthed. you smile, too, so sweetly that it hurts his heart. “same. it was all i ever wanted, to be so intimate like that with you,” you reach up to stroke his face. “best feeling in the world, knowing i get to do it for real now.”

all matty can do is softly hold your face and kiss you, until he runs out of breath and has to pull away from your chocolate-flavoured lips; even then, though, he keeps his hands on your jaw, and murmurs against your lips. “my dream girl. m'so in love with you.”

“i love you so much,” you whisper. “d'you wanna keep watching this, then?”

“course. rite of passage, innit?” your boyfriend grins, tugging you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around you. you turn to kiss him softly once more, then rest your head against his chest and look at the screen. 

the time passes a lot like it did the last time you and matty did this, but instead of mutual pining and an undercurrent of sadness knowing you weren't really together, it's just completely… lovely. you press kisses to each other's heads and hands and lips, and just bask uninterrupted in the love evident between the two of you in the room. aside from the kisses, you don't even move.

that is, until the scene matty knows is your favourite begins. he grins, shifting you slightly further up on his lap so he can look at you properly, and begins to sing into your ear along with heath ledger onscreen. “you're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you…”

your cheeks lift into a smile, and matty can practically feel the heat radiating off them. but still, you keep your eyes on the tv, the only proper acknowledgement of matty's singing being the way you softly squeeze his thigh.

“... you'd be like heaven to touch, i wanna hold you so much,” he continues, resting his head against yours and smiling when you giggle, then taking your hand. “at long last love has arrived, and i thank god i'm alive,” he moves his hand up to gently turn your head, singing the last bit to your adorably flustered smiling face. “you're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you.”

you laugh joyously when he stops singing - the best sound matty thinks he's ever heard - and pull him into a kiss. “you're serenading me?!”

“you asked me to, first time we watched this,” matty smiles warmly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “and i promised you i would.”

“i did?” your brow furrows so cutely. “you did?”

“just as you fell asleep. therefore,” he grins, taking a deep breath before literally belting. “i love you, baby, and if it's quite alright i need you, baby, to warm the lonely nights. i love you, baby - trust in me when i say…”

you beam, wrapping your arms around his neck and swaying as you join in the song. “oh, pretty baby, don’t bring me down, i pray,” the two of you giggle as you sing, and matty's never been so in love in his life. “oh, pretty baby, now that i've found you, stay, and let me love you, baby, let me love you.”

as your voices fade out, matty leans forward and kisses you chastely; he beams and caresses your cheek when he pulls back. “thank you for letting me keep my promise. and for singing with me - that was lovely. should get you on the next album.”

“no, i think i'm content with just singing to you at home,” you smile, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. “thank you for doing that for me. always found it really romantic, that scene and that song. but you know how i am about pda, so what you just did was really perfect,” you kiss him again. “i honestly can't remember you making that promise, though.”

“i think you had already fallen asleep on me, darlin,” matty giggles. “but i wanted to keep it, anyway. and speaking of promises to keep,” his face goes a bit more serious, but still tender, as he picks up your left hand and kisses your ring finger - your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening and welling up. “gonna marry you someday. i mean it.”

you nod, a teary smile on your beautiful face, and pull him into a hug. “i can't wait.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #flatmate!matty #valentine75 #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

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stupid cupid (d word matty x reader fluff)

day 3 of valentine's week, in which you realise you're in love with matty in an unexpected circumstance. cute as shit. enjoy <3

you collapse forward onto matty's chest, both of you breathing heavily. he's still partially inside you, and you can feel his cum dripping from your hole and pooling below you on his body, but you don't mind; you like this sort of post-sex intimacy, when the orgasm haze fades from your brain but the stickiness and tiredness of your body still continue as reminders of how good it was.

and fuck, was it good.

matty strokes your messy hair. “mad how we've never had bad sex with each other, isn't it?”

“shut up,” you laugh, looking up at him adoringly. “you'll have jinxed it now.”

“impossible,” he grins. “i like watching you try to walk normally the day after a good fuck too much to not make an effort…”

“oh my god.”

“... and you are just too eager to please me to half-arse anything, my little princess,” matty boops your nose, laughing when you screw your face up. “in conclusion - great sex forever.”

you hum, tracing the chest tattoo next to your head. “that really was great, that. unexpected.”

“d'you mean?”

“thought you'd be exhausted after the show. s'why i insisted on being on top,” you laugh breathily while matty flicks your nose. “pleasantly surprised at how much work you did.”

“you've been running around in tiny shorts all day. course i was gonna go fuckin feral,” he smiles, hand weaving into your hair and massaging your scalp. “tired now, though.”

“same,” as if on cue, you yawn, and snuggle further into your boyfriend. “night night.”

matty giggles. “nope, not yet. need to clean you up first, darling,” you're not quite sure how he manages it, but next thing you know you're being scooped up bridal style and carried to the bathroom. he sets you down next to the toilet, and reaches in to turn the shower on. “you piss, i shower, then you come in with me. yeah?”

“mmmkay,” you nod, smiling as matty kisses your head before stepping into the shower. normally, you wouldn't let him in the room at this point, but the glass is so frosted that you don't care. you do what you need to do, giggling to yourself as you stand up and lean over to the sink to wash your hands and listen to your boyfriend sing (for what reason, you've no idea) lucky ones by lana del rey over the sound of the taps.

and then, you try to walk over to him, and your legs almost give way to the point you have to cling to the counter to stay upright. you yelp. “matty!”

he's over at you within seconds, sliding a little bit on the floor. concern on his face, he gently holds yours in his still-wet hands. “what’s wrong, angel? you alright? did you see a spider again?”

“no, i just,” you sigh, looking up at him with a pout. “i can't walk. tried to get to the shower and my legs gave way.”

“already? nice,” matty smirks. you deliberately wobble your lip, and his face softens. “oh, sweetheart,” he coos, kissing your forehead and lifting you up to sit on the counter. “give me a second to rinse my hair, yeah? then i'll take care of you. promise.”

“‘kay,” you sniffle. “you can leave the shower door open if you want.”

your boyfriend laughs. “it won't turn you on again, looking at me naked and dripping wet?”

you shrug. “maybe. but you're beautiful like that. s'nice to appreciate you.”

“flatterer,” matty's cheeks go adorably pink. he kisses you, long but chaste, before walking backwards to the shower. “front or back view?”

“back. you've got a cute arse, and i never get to see it.”

“not as cute as yours.”

“yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes. “hurry up, please, i miss you. wanna go to sleep.”

he grins. “alright, darling.”

in fairness to matty, he really only is a few minutes rinsing the hair mask from his curls - he's so quick, in fact, that you’ve half a mind to tell him to go back in so you can appreciate the view even longer. but as much as you like ogling his peachy little bum and the way his back muscles flex under the water, you like it when he takes care of you even more. so you keep your mouth shut and smiling, hand him a fluffy towel from the stack beside you (with a final bit of ogling as he runs it over his body and wraps it low on his hips), and let him do just that.

he kisses you as he runs a flannel under the hot tap, then wrings it out and presents it to you. “temp ok?” he smiles when you nod, tapping your thigh as a sign for you to open them so he can clean you up, cooing when you wince at the feeling of the warm fabric on your still-sensitive cunt. “i know, sweet girl, i know. just a second longer, yeah? need to make sure you won't be all sticky and uncomfy, that's all. alright?”

“mhmm,” you smile at the way matty’s concentrating on you, the same as he always does during aftercare - brows furrowed in focus, bottom lip between his teeth, whole face softening as he looks you over in satisfaction once he's done. it's almost reverential, the way he treats you, and still totally overwhelming, even after all these months. nobody else you’ve been with has ever been so caring towards you, nor so affectionate; once he's chucked the flannel in the laundry bag, the first thing matty does is straighten up and kiss you. it makes you melt. “thank you, baby.”

he pecks your lips. “just doing my boyfriend duties.”

“you do them very well,” wrapping your arms around his neck, you shuffle forward to hug matty, snuggling into him while he holds you tightly. you don't know if you've ever felt so safe in your life. “m'really sleepy. will you take me to bed now?”

“course,” matty gives you a final squeeze and pulls back, smiling softly; his eyes widen when he looks at your face, though. “wait, no, i can't. not yet.”

“why?”

“you've still got your makeup on, darling.”

blinking tiredly, you look over your shoulder at your reflection. “oh, so i do. never mind. i'll sort it in the morning. let's just go to bed, yeah?”

matty shakes his head. “nope.”

“matty,” you whine, stroking his face. “please can we just go to sleep? m'too tired to do it.”

“angel,” your boyfriend sighs, taking both your hands in his. “the first time i stayed at yours, you made me promise - promise - to never let you fall asleep with your makeup on. said it was the worst thing i could ever let you do. so, yeah, we're not going to bed until your skincare is done. alright?”

a wave of something unfamiliar passes over you as you take in matty's words. it's not unpleasant, though; quite the opposite, actually. kind of warm, but not in an embarrassed way. you don't know what it is, or where exactly in your body it starts, but you like it.

you smile shyly. “i can't believe you remember me saying that. i was half-joking, honestly.”

matty copies your smile and shrugs. “well, i took it very seriously. so, to that end,” he kisses you quickly, resting his forehead against your own. “if you're too tired to take your makeup off and all that, would you let me do it instead?”

the warmth passes over you again as he speaks, increasing by a couple of degrees when you look at your boyfriend's adorably expectant face. god, his eyes. you want to drown in them. “yes, please,” you smile. “if you wouldn't mind, that is.”

“i never mind getting to touch your beautiful face,” he grins. “i know you're tired, darling, but could you put your hair up while i wash my hands, please?”

you oblige, reaching to the side for your claw clip and headband. matty quickly cleans his hands, fiddling about with the tap once he's rinsed. “tepid for skincare, yeah?”

“right,” you nod. “if it's too hot it…

“... strips the skin too much. makes sense,” matty carefully measures out your makeup remover on his palm, while you blink in surprise. wetting the cleanser, he brings his hands to your face. “let me know if i'm not doing it right, sweetheart.”

“okay,” you close your eyes, and he begins. his hands move gently across your face, the soothing circular motion of his fingers lulling you into relaxation - ironically, in total contrast to the circular motions matty was using on you earlier. when he giggles quietly, you keep your eyes closed, but smile. “what?”

“you look like a raccoon. your mascara's completely melted,” matty replies, and you can hear him smiling. “a really cute raccoon, though.”

“a callback to my emo days,” you smile, closing your mouth as matty wipes the makeup residue away with a facecloth. “is that us done?”

“yeah. take a look, please.”

you do as asked, turning to examine your totally makeup-free face in the mirror. “perfect, baby. thank you,” you turn back to peck matty - glowing with pride - and smile. “d'you want me to guide you through the rest of the routine?”

“oh, no, it's ok,” matty’s cheeks go pink again, and he looks bashfully at the ground before peeking up at you through his eyelashes. “i, uh, i actually made a note of it in my phone, one of the times i sat with you while you did it. just in case, you know, something like tonight happened, and i would be the one doing it for you.”

oh. your eyes widen, and matty starts some frantic monologue about… well, you've no idea what. you can't focus on anything he's saying, because now you know what the new warmth in your body is, spreading from your heart to your brain and tinting the world just a little bit brighter.

it's love. 

you're in love with matty.

as soon as the realisation hits, though, reality follows - all it took for you to realise was for him to offer to do your skincare for you? really? that tiny little gesture? christ. how pathetic of you.

but it isn’t a tiny gesture, though, is it, if you think about it; matty cares so much about you that he physically noted down which skincare products you use on your face and in which order. it might be a basic ritual, but it's intricate and intimate, and he's willingly offering to enact it for you because he knows you’ll feel bad if you abandon it tonight.

god, you love him so much.

shit, you still haven't said anything - you tune back into matty talking about “i'm sorry if that's a bit creepy or stalker-ish, i just know you spend a lot of time taking care of yourself like that, and really i think you've got it down to a fine art cos you always look amazing, and i don't know i just thought it would be useful to know if i was ever lucky enough to be so close to you that i could take over with it if necessary, and-”

“matty, baby,” you stop him before he talks himself unconscious, smiling. “i’m really touched that you would do that for me. really.”

he smiles, clearly relieved. “i'd do anything for you, darling.”

you swear you can feel your heart grow three sizes like the grinch. “well, in that case,” you kiss the back of his hand. “i'd like you to do my skincare for me, please.”

“alright. can i kiss you first?”

you say nothing, just pout your lips and close your eyes. matty chuckles and kisses you deeply, hands on your jaw; you sigh into him, lips parting to let him in, and he takes the bottom one between his teeth and releases it ever so slowly. when you whimper, he smiles, pecking your lips before pulling away completely. “right. cleanser time.”

you smile, too, closing your eyes and sitting back while he washes and hydrates and treats and moisturises your face. again, matty's so gentle with you, humming whatever tune is in his head and quietly murmuring instructions like “pea-sized amount of niacinamide, grape-sized amount of moisturiser” to himself - you huff out a laugh at those, and he stops talking to himself in favour of talking to you. “what?”

“nothing, you're just cute” and i'm very much in love with you.

“nowhere near as cute as you, sweetheart. just your lip balm left to do, by the way, and then we can finally go to bed.”

“thank god.” 

matty laughs as he quickly swipes your overnight lip mask on, tapping your thigh once he's done. “that's you, angel,” he washes his hands again, while you open your eyes and beam at him. “shiny and beautiful.”

“thank you, my darling,” you pull the claw clip and headband from your hair, shoving them in your cosmetics bag before making grabby arms at matty. “bedtime?”

“bedtime,” your boyfriend lifts you and wanders to the bedroom, laying you gently on the bed and kissing your hair; in complete contrast to the tenderness, he parkours over you to get to his own side of the bed, and you giggle as he winces. “fuck, that was a bad idea.”

“oh baby. c'mere,” you slide under the duvet and open your arms. matty slots himself between them, resting his head on your chest. “better?”

“so much,” he yawns, eyelids already fluttering closed. “night, baby. see you in my dreams, and then in the morning.”

“goodnight, darling,” you lean down to kiss his forehead, gently massaging his scalp until his breathing indicates he's properly, genuinely asleep. then you smile, and your voice drops to a whisper. “i love you.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #d word matty #valentine75 #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

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you're the only thing that's going on in my mind (d word matty x reader smut)

cocky mean d word matty post-show on glasgow night 1 because i left that gig Fucked Up (see below pic that i took). canon, so girly is pregnant at this point. he goes a bit simpy at the end, but... fork found in kitchen. VERY slutty. enjoy! <3

“what the fuck are you two doing here?” matty's voice - loud, so as to be heard over the people outro - and face are aghast as he exits b stage to find you and mrs mac, the two of you standing in front of the security line at the back. “couldn't believe my eyes when i saw you lurking from up there.”

“well, we do work here,” comes the reply from beside you. 

you laugh, leaning back to stretch slightly before cradling your bump. “and the baby wanted to be up close and personal for the final song. she’s her father's daughter, after all.”

“jesus christ,” matty shakes his head, but the little smile on his face is unmissable. he steps close to you so ross and adam can get out, pressing a quick kiss to the bump before pulling you into his bare chest. “wasn't just the baba that wanted to see me there, though, was it?”

“hmm?” you look up at your boyfriend, a smirk on his pretty face.

“don't act clueless, sweetheart,” matty slings an arm around your shoulders as you both start walking back to the main stage, leaning to speak in your ear. “saw the way you were looking at me the whole time. and the way you crossed your legs when i opened my shirt - that was for you, by the way. wanted to see how you'd react.”

you can feel your cheeks burning. “was it… a good reaction?”

matty laughs, not unkindly, and kisses your cheek. “oh, baby, you're such a fucking sub,” he coos in your ear. “of course it was a good reaction; the sexiest woman in the world’s all turned on and needy for me. s'hot as fuck.”

“you're hot as fuck.”

“too fucking right,” your boyfriend holds out his free hand and brushes it against some of the waiting palms of the crowd, still leaning in to talk to you. “look at them, how excited they are, how happy. look what i fucking did to them, did for them. me.”

“no one else,” you all but breathe, shuffling even closer to him. “just you.”

matty hums, leading you through behind the stage and pulling you into a darkened alcove. his lips are on yours almost immediately, tongue slipping into your mouth and making you whine. “you're fucking desperate for me, aren't you, princess?”

fuck.

“yeah,” you whimper against him. “want you to fuck me.”

matty groans into your mouth, pulling back to hold your jaw. he smirks. “nah.”

you blanch. “what?”

“you don't understand? fuck's sake,” matty rolls his eyes. “no. i don't want to fuck you right now.”

“but…” you feel your lip trembling.

“good girls don’t say but, do they?”

you blink, looking sheepishly at the ground. “no, daddy. m'sorry.”

“that's better,” matty strokes your cheek. “now, instead of us running off because you're needy, i want us to go and celebrate with everyone, because i think i deserve to be celebrated - you agree, don’t you?”

you nod.

“good girl,” matty smiles, a smile that widens when you perk up at the praise. “if you're good enough at the afterparty, then i'll fuck you. understand?”

you nod again.

“words, princess.”

“yes, daddy. i understand.”

matty kisses you again. “let's go, then, gorgeous.”

and thus begins the most tedious ninety minutes of your life.

it wouldn't actually be a bad night if you weren't so worked up, you think - everyone's in good spirits, pleased with how well the show went, and the room is soundtracked by a cacophony of laughs and excited tones. you try your best to get involved in the conversations with your friends, all of them interjecting with their favourite moments of the show, but your focus is so elsewhere that you end up just sitting back and nursing your soda and lime.

elsewhere being your boyfriend, working his way around the conversations in the room and soaking up the compliments like a cat in a patch of sunlight. he's too busy preening to have made a dent in his pint, but he's as animated as he is when he's tipsy; there's a permanent smirk etched on his face as he incessantly talks, and the combination of that and his almost-unbuttoned shirt has you clenching. you don't want to look away from him at all, but god knows what else might happen if he catches you staring at him so openly, so lustfully, teeth biting your straw to beyond the point of use just to stay sane. best to keep your head down every time he turns his in your direction.

it shoots straight up when he speaks from right beside you, though, squatting to take your hand and talk to you. “fancy some air, darling?”

finally.

“yes please,” you reply, biting your tongue to stop yourself grinning too widely.

matty knows how excited you are, though. as soon as you get into the empty hallway, he pulls you in for a sweet hug, but the relief you feel from him touching you is somewhat overshadowed by the way he laughs in your ear.

“what is it?” you lean back just enough to look at him, your brow furrowed.

“you're just so fucking needy,” matty shakes his head, still giggling. “you thought i was getting you alone so we could get each other off, didn't you?”

“i- no.”

“well, good. because that's not what's happening.”

you feel your shoulders slump slightly. “okay.”

“i'll tell you why, but i need to ask you something serious first,” one of his hands caresses the bump. “you're not tired, are you? or sore at all?”

“no, i'm alright.”

matty tuts. “so why are you sitting in there moping, princess?”

your jaw drops. “i am not fucking moping.”

“less of the backchat,” your boyfriend says sternly. “and yes, you are, sitting there looking at the floor and not talking to anybody. told you to be good, remember?”

“i am being good!”

“what did i just say, princess?” matty holds your jaw; not painfully, but firmly enough that you can't look away from him. he looks fuming. “keep answering back like that, and you won't cum for a week. you're already on thin fucking ice as it is, after the way you acted in there. sitting silently just waiting for me to stop celebrating my night so i can fuck you - what a brat you are. a needy little brat.”

you'd be lying if you said his words didn't send a burst of heat straight between your legs. but still, you're curious as to where matty's newfound dominance has come from. “why are you being so mean to me tonight?”

he smirks. “because, darling, you asked me to. remember?”

oh, fuck. a memory crosses your mind, hazy with post-sex fog, matty's jaw dropping when you shyly say you wouldn't mind him being meaner in bed with you, whenever he felt up to it. “ah…”

“you do remember!,” matty looks satisfied. “that's good, because i'm feeling very selfish tonight. in the mood to be… worshipped, i'd say. have someone else do all the work. how's that sound, princess?”

“so good,” you whine. and it does - you'd do anything to touch him right now. “i'll do it now, daddy, if s’what you want.”

“bet you fucking would, gorgeous,” matty's hands trail down your body, across the bump, and back up over your tits. “so desperate for daddy to fill you up again, even though i've already done it. never enough for you, is it?”

you shake your head. “never. need you all the time.”

“greedy girl,” matty grins. “but it's actually hot that you need me so much. just wish you were better behaved about it.”

you nod. “i will be, daddy, promise.”

“prove it,” his thumb pulls your lower lip down. “take what i give you, and you'll get what you want if you keep being good while i finish my pint, yeah?”

“yes, daddy.”

“there's my girl,” matty smiles, and you glow. “now - open.”

you oblige, dropping your jaw so your boyfriend can spit into your open mouth; he opens his to tell you to swallow, but you've already done it before he takes a breath to speak. he groans, rubbing his thumb over your lips and smiling when you suck the tip. “that's more like it. good.”

“thank you, daddy.”

“you're welcome, princess,” matty presses a quick kiss to your lips before pulling you into a hug and murmuring in your ear. “colours still apply tonight, sweetheart, as always - you want to stop at any point, just say the word. you're alright now, though, aren't you?”

“yeah. all green here,” you whisper into matty's ear in return. “i love you.”

“i love you, too,” a kiss to your cheek, and matty leans back. the smirk has reappeared on his pretty face. “m'excited to fucking ruin you later.”

“please.”

your boyfriend kisses you again, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and dragging it to release. “half an hour. best behaviour, you hear me?”

you nod enthusiastically. “i hear you, daddy.”

“alright. let's go back in, then.”

matty takes your hand and leads you back into the room of your friends, helping you to get comfy on one of the sofas before slotting in beside you. he's as self-assured as he was earlier, but your attraction to that is more manageable now that he's actually touching you - a hand on your thigh, lazily drawing patterns into your trouser leg - and you know you only have to endure another thirty minutes until he takes you back to the hotel.

as it turns out, that time flies by, so much so that you're almost surprised by matty leaning in to tell you it's time to go. you nod, and he kisses your head before standing and helping you up.

“is that the two of you on your way?” mrs mac jumps up to hug you, patting the bump affectionately. “take it easy tonight, love. s'been a long day.”

“yeah, i will,” you smile. liar.

“take care of her, healy.”

“oh, i will,” matty smiles. not a lie. “night, everyone.”

after the chorus of well done agains and goodbyes dies down, matty leads you to the waiting car. the journey back is quick, and quiet, the only sounds the humming of the engine and the noises from the late-night glasgow revellers you pass. in fact, aside from thanking the driver, matty's silent the whole time until you get into the room; only once the door closes behind you does he speak, leaning down to whisper in your ear as he takes your coat from you. “colour?”

“green.”

“good. in that case - clothes off, on the bed, legs open. now. and don't even think about touching yourself.”

you're actually thankful of the order, because you're so wet that your underwear is starting to become uncomfortable. with a “yes, daddy” and a sloppy kiss, you practically sprint to the bedroom of the suite, kicking off your trainers as soon as you open the door and pulling down your jumpsuit so quickly you wouldn't be surprised if you ripped it. you chuck it onto the chair in the corner of the room, and your lingerie follows suit before you climb onto the bed as instructed, waiting as patiently as possible for matty.

he wanders in a couple of minutes later, can of coke in hand, and leans against the doorframe. the shirt he was wearing has disappeared, and you can't quite decide if you'd rather look at his chest or his smirking face. “can see how fucking wet you are from here, princess. jesus,” matty says, wandering over to you and looking hungrily at your soaked cunt. without warning, he brings his hand down harshly onto it; you yelp, and feel another gush to your core. matty giggles and repeats the motion, and the same thing happens. “you little slut, liking when i slap your pussy. dirty, dirty girl.”

slightly sickeningly, you don't think you've ever been so turned on in your life. all you can do is whimper as your boyfriend continues to slap your cunt, the noises turning to cries whenever he makes contact with your clit, and then to little mewls as he drags his fingers up and down your slit with a “so messy, princess, i think we need to clean you up.”

sighing with relief, you spread your legs even wider so that matty can comfortably get his head between them - you're surprised (and disappointed), then, when he holds a hand out and says “get up, and follow me”. but you oblige, of course, like the good girl you know you are despite what matty says and thinks. when he nudges you into the shower and takes the rest of his clothes off, you perk up slightly, and even more so when he removes the showerhead from the wall and kneels. “spread your pussy for me.”

fuck.

you oblige, but you must look terrified, because matty's eyes fill with concern. he strokes your thigh comfortingly. “colour, sweetheart?”

taking a deep breath, you reply in a shaky voice. “green.”

he doesn't seem convinced. “you're sure?”

“yeah. honest.”

“well, alright,” he presses a kiss to your thigh. “hold onto me if you need, yeah?”

“okay, daddy. thank you.”

“of course,” matty sits back on his knees. his face changes again. “now… let me clean my dirty girl up.”

aiming the showerhead at the floor, he reaches up to turn the water on, testing it with his free hand and adjusting the temperature dial accordingly. suddenly, with no warning, warm streams of water hit your clit; your jaw drops, and it takes everything in you to stop your legs doing the same. “oh my god.”

“tell me how it feels.”

“it's - shit - so fucking good, daddy,” you pant, eyes rolling back with pleasure, jaw shaking slightly. matty turns the water pressure up a notch, and you gasp. “fuck!”

matty hums. “d'you wanna cum?”

“yeah.”

“well, too bad,” all of a sudden, the water stops. you wail at the loss of stimulation on your clit, and matty scoffs. “what are you being like that for? thought you wanted me to fill you up again. you're telling me you don't want to cum on my dick?”

your legs nearly give out. “no, i do,” you whimper. “please, daddy, need you inside me.”

“hmm,” matty tilts his head, squinting at you. he sighs. “alright. you're doing all the work, mind you,” he stands and takes your hand again, before leading you to stand in front of the sink. “come on, princess. hands on the counter - wanna look at myself while you get me off.”

it's infuriating how hot you find your boyfriend’s arrogance - or, it would be, if you could think about anything other than the feeling of him brushing up against your waiting cunt. the desire spilling out of you isn’t helped in the slightest by the way matty’s eyes are locked onto his own reflection, as he moves and flexes and runs his hands through his hair and across his face.

god, he's fucking gorgeous.

and he knows it. “fucking look at me,” matty says - to nobody in particular, given that you're both already staring at his reflection. “no fucking wonder the crowd reacted the way they did tonight,” he laughs, tilting his head and opening his mouth slightly. “could've had any one of them, i reckon. bet everyone wished they could have me, just like this.”

envy draws your cheeks in. the thought of matty fucking someone else in your place sends a bolt of rage into your stomach, firing up your throat and shooting from your lips as a snarl. good girl be damned. “well, they fucking can't.”

matty meets your eyes in the mirror and smirks. “no?”

“no,” you grip the counter so hard your knuckles go white. “you're mine. besides, none of them could fucking take you like i do.”

he laughs. “oh, you're being a bitch. i like it.”

“just being honest, daddy.”

“well, show me how you take it, then,” with one hand, matty lines himself up with your hole; the other weaves itself into your hair, forcing you to keep looking in the mirror. “give me all you've got, you fucking bitch.”

you smile, saccharine. “yes, daddy,” slowly straightening your arms, you moan in harmony with your boyfriend as he fills you up. “fuck.” 

once you've taken a second to get used to the feeling of matty inside you, you bend your arms and pull yourself almost completely off him, before slamming back with no warning and watching in satisfaction as matty's jaw drops. “shit, princess,” he groans, steadying himself against the wall with his free hand as you repeat the movement, over and over. “yeah, you're fucking right - only you, my girl, only you can take me so fucking well. perfect fucking pussy, perfect fucking girl.”

you beam at the praise - matty notices, and laughs. “you like it when i tell you how good you are at taking my dick? little slut. but it's true. fucking built for this, weren't you? for me to fuck you and fill you up? you must be, to be so fucking greedy - already knocked you up and you still want my cum. fucking desperate,” he pulls you by the hair so your back is against his chest, bringing his other hand to your hip to use as leverage to fuck you even faster than you were already moving. “but i fucking love it. i fucking love you.”

“love you so much,” you whine, throwing an arm back and hooking it around matty's neck. “fuck, look at you. so fucking hot.”

“and all yours,” matty whispers in your ear, making you smile. his lips drop to your neck as he speeds up his thrusts, but his eyes never leave your reflection. he groans. “look at you, princess, my beautiful girl. all full of me. and those fucking tits - love them always, but i'm gonna fuckin miss the way they look right now when you're not pregnant anymore.”

“easy fix,” you giggle. “you'll just have to knock me up again.”

even if matty's hips didn't speed up impossibly more at your words, the noise he makes in response is almost enough to get you off. “i'll fucking do it, princess, if that's what you want. i'd do anything for you.”

“make me cum?”

“if you say the magic word.”

“please, daddy?”

he smiles, pressing a kiss to the side of your head and his fingers onto your clit; you moan as soon as they make contact, which only spurs matty on. “do it, then, princess. cum all over my fucking cock.”

your body reacts immediately to his command - all your muscles tighten and release, pleasure flowing through your nervous system and forcing a scream from your throat. matty groans as you grab hold of the counter again, the new angle letting him grab your hips and fuck recklessly into you, the syncopated rhythm a sure sign of his own imminent orgasm. “oh, fuck,” he whines, pulsing heat deep into your cunt and continuing to thrust into you. “fucking take it, princess, take it like the good little cumslut you are,” he stills inside you, still shaking from the aftershocks, resting his head on your shoulder. 

after a minute of mutual heavy breathing, matty looks up, meeting your eyes and beaming at you in the mirror. “i'm fucking knackered. worth it, though.”

“mmm,” you lean on your elbow. “thank you for indulging me, baby.”

“of course,” matty kisses your shoulder. “and you're unbelievably sexy when you're possessive, by the way. i'm getting turned on just thinking about it.”

you put your head in your hands. “oh my god, no, i cannot go for another round right now. i love you, but i need to go to sleep.”

“no, i agree, don’t worry,” your boyfriend laughs. “can you reach the tap, sweetheart?”

“yeah.”

“run that blue washcloth under the water and chuck us it, then, please?” matty inches out of you carefully, taking the flannel from you with a kiss and kneeling behind you with a moan. “christ, i'll never get over this sight.”

you huff out a laugh, hissing when matty gently wipes the flannel over your core with an “i know, baby, i'm sorry”; you perk up a bit when he stands and helps you straighten up, cradling the bump from behind you. “i love you, darling,” he kisses you. “both my darlings, actually. you feeling alright?”

“just sleepy. s'been a long day,” you snuggle into him. “proud of you. grateful for you. love you.”

“back at you, sweetheart.”

#mads does writing #d word matty #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty x reader #mads muses

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keep dreaming (d word matty smut)

(pre-relationship. mentions of unprotected sex. basically, matty's in his bed and he simply cannot stop thinking about you...)

in an ideal world, matty wouldn't be doing this.

in an ideal world, he would have staved off the nerves, gotten a grip, bit the bullet, and asked you to come home with him. part of him thinks he should've - it's not as if he hasn't done it before, with girls nowhere near as beautiful and girls he didn't like half as much as you.

but that's the point, he thinks, that's why he didn't. you're too special to him for your first intimate moment to be a post-awards show shag at his house. granted, he'd fucking worship you if it was, both in bed and then out of it, for every subsequent minute of his life... but he'd far rather take you on a few dates and spoil you first, before getting you into bed.

you... bed... fuck. despite himself, matty can't stop thinking about it.

or stop from gently stroking himself to said thoughts, caving further into that little voice in his head saying "imagine what it would feel like if it was her hand instead of yours" on loop.

god, he's sick for this. but he can't help it. after all, matty knows all too well what your right hand - the hand you use to write memos to him at work, and therefore the one you would surely use on him in bed - feels like, wrapped around a part of his body. less than an hour ago, it had grasped his wrist as you tugged him to the dancefloor at the afterparty, beaming warmly enough to melt his heart and redden his cheeks.

and then it had slid down his hand and twisted to grip the tips of his fingers, and matty was a goner. he mimics the motion now on his cock with a breathy whimper of your name, and repeats it - this time, slightly more softly, slightly more like you would. shit. you would look so good wanking him off, matty thinks, the edges of your nails ever so lightly scraping against him as you move; those nails that kickstarted this specific fantasy of you giving him a handjob, after you excitedly showed him their design when you first saw him earlier, a design based on the band's newest album, described by you as "look, matty, you're all over my hands". he had smiled at the adorable gesture and kissed your palm in gratitude, but his thoughts had gone somewhere far dirtier - literally - at your words.

he's jumping the gun with thinking about his cum all over your pretty nails now, though, so matty goes back to imagining your handjob position - he thinks of you lying on your stomach in front of him, looking up that way you do when he tells you something interesting: those beautiful eyes of yours all sparkly and focused and knee weakening-ly distracting, pretty lips curved and cheeks lifted into a bashful little smile.

those lips... always so soft-looking (and feeling, matty's sure, given he's a frequent witness to your habit of religiously applying lipbalm) and definitely kissable, but even more so tonight, lined and glossy. the colour looked shockingly perfect on you, and when he first saw you earlier he'd had to shove down a memory of a makeup artist for a shoot telling him that the perfect lipstick colour is the same as one's nipples before he started spiralling. now, though, in the solitary comfort of his own bed, matty lets his brain wind itself into imagining yours, spots of that lipstick shade on your perfect tits - accentuated incredibly tonight by the black silk of your cocktail dress, it has to be said - and imagining the way they would brush against him as you moved forward to wrap your lips around him, the same way you wrapped them around one of the bottles of expensive champagne given to the band's table after they won.

fuck. matty's wrist speeds up almost involuntarily at the thought of you sucking him off, while his other hand threads itself into the bedsheets the same way he knows he'd thread it into your hair, sliding the soft waves of tonight's hairstyle away from your beautiful face. he knows you would smile around him at that, the same little sweet smile you give matty whenever he appears with a coffee for you or offers you a cig or does anything requiring a bit of thankfulness, followed by a little "thank you" and a hum of contentment when you get what you wanted or needed. it makes him swoon at the best of times - it would surely ruin him if you did it with his cock in your mouth.

matty speeds up his movement again, imagining you humming and moaning happily as you slide your mouth up and down his length, whimpering when the tip hits the back of your throat. ignoring the inkling of guilt that appears in the back of his mind as he does, matty wonders just how deep you'd be able to take him. not that he'd ever force you to do anything you couldn't or didn't want to, and not that it would matter, because he knows if you actually were to suck him off he'd have to fight not to cum immediately, but he has a sneaking suspicion that you'd try to completely deepthroat him - he knows how stubborn you are, and he's sure he's not hallucinating the way you blush whenever he thanks you for going above and beyond to help him out.

and it's not like he'd dissuade you from trying; at the thought of you, teary-eyed but turned-on, inching slowly down his length to take it all, throat closing slightly around him, lips and nose pressed against his lower stomach, moaning, he bucks his hips up again almost involuntarily with a whine, beginning to properly fuck his fist the way he would fuck your mouth if you wanted him to. would you swallow, matty wonders, take every last drop of his cum down your aching throat and clean off the tip with little kitten licks? would he let you?

or would he stop fucking your mouth as he feels the orgasm start to build, so he can fuck you until you both cum instead?

god. what a thought that is, matty gently coaxing your head up from his cock and kissing you, before rolling you onto your back and just burying himself inside you. he fucks his fist the way he would you, mixing slow, controlled thrusts in amongst shorter, sharper ones to rile you up, before setting a strong rhythm with his hips that - hopefully - would have you screaming for him. he groans your name at the thought of that, wanking desperately now - not necessarily desperate to make himself cum, but desperate to see your eyes roll back in time with his hips, your jaw drop in pleasure, those fucking tits of yours bounce with every thrust; to feel your lips on his as you kiss him like you're trying to devour him, your hot breath in his open mouth as you moan his name into it, your long, gorgeous nails digging crescents into his back, your legs quivering around his waist as you reach breaking point, and - the thing matty's most desperate for - your cunt clenching around his cock, as he circles your clit and pulls an orgasm out from within your very bones.

matty's so fucking close now, hips jerking wildly into his hand, eyes heavy and clouded with pleasure, a cacophony of moans and groans and cries of your name leaving his lips and turning to incoherent dirty talk as they meet the cold air of the bedroom. "ohhhhh, fuck, m'gonna fucking cum, baby, shit, need to fuck you, mmmmmmmph, gonna cum, gonna fucking cum."

there is, however, one final thing for matty to consider about his fantasies of you before he reaches his orgasm - where would he cum, if he was with you right now? he could pull out, and let you either finish him off in your hand or mouth, coating your throat or covering your pretty nails like he briefly imagined earlier. or he could finish himself over you, decorate your beautiful face, your gorgeous tits, your soft stomach and your thighs.

truthfully, he'd let you choose - he'd just be grateful for the opportunity to even get to do anything with you in bed, and you'd look perfect in any of these scenarios (and in any scenario in general, really). but if matty got to pick, and you were okay with it, he wouldn't choose any of them.

what matty would do is stay buried inside you and fill you up with his cum, thrusting through his orgasm with his head buried in your neck, feeling you milk his cock for everything he has.

it's a delicious thought, and it's what tips him over the edge; with a final groan of your name and a "fuck!", matty cums all over his own hand, whimpering and lightly stroking himself until he stops pulsing out white fluid, which flows over his hand to pool on his lower stomach, reaching the very edge of his hip tattoo. in the aftershocks of orgasm, he can't help but imagine you cleaning it off with your tongue; with his free hand, matty reaches over to grab a pillow he can groan into to calm down before he finds himself cumming to the thought of you yet again. christ. he really is into you, isn't he?

matty doesn't move for a few minutes - the orgasm was so strong and took so much out of him that he just lies on his bed silently, until his breathing regulates and he comes back down to earth a bit. when the liquid on his stomach starts to feel icky, that's when he finally moves, swinging his legs onto the floor and walking to the bathroom to shower. he cleans his body just fine, but the grossness in his brain lingers a minute longer - he really just got off to imagining fucking you, his trusted friend and colleague, like some sort of depraved teenager. jesus christ.

if only he knew you'd just grinded yourself to an orgasm on your pillow thinking of the exact same thing.

#mads muses #mads does writing #d word matty #smutty asks #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty x reader