[forcryingoutlloud]

Forcryingoutlloud’s Masterlist:

* indicates smut

Matty Healy:

• pathetic*

• beg for it*

• merry christmas, my love

• please don’t go

• greedy* (beg for it pt 2)

• desperate*

• patient *

• guilty as sin *

• just the way you like it *

blurbs:

• first christmas together

• edging*

• prompt 1*

[forcryingoutlloud]

mates i know i said i was done with writing but i am wine drunk and i just wanted to say i love every single one of you so fucking much even tho i don’t really speak to any of you because i am so scared to message any of you because you all seem so cool but i just felt the need to say that i adore every single person on tumblr dot com 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

[forcryingoutlloud]

hello! sorry for my lack of activity on here lately

i’ve decided that i’m probably gonna stop writing as it just doesn’t bring me joy anymore and im not feeling inspired :(

i’m probably not gonna deactivate but we’ll see

[forcryingoutlloud]

everyone pray for me i have my driving theory test next tuesday and out of like the 20 mock tests i’ve done i’ve passed two…

[forcryingoutlloud]

also why i haven’t posted anything recently im trying not to kms while studying but bare with me mwah

[forcryingoutlloud]

I PASSED !!!!!

[wiintring]

do you guys ever get like attached to a mutual that you don’t really talk to but you still love them sm and want them to like you and think ur cool 😓

[forcryingoutlloud]

everyone pray for me i have my driving theory test next tuesday and out of like the 20 mock tests i’ve done i’ve passed two…

[forcryingoutlloud]

also why i haven’t posted anything recently im trying not to kms while studying but bare with me mwah

[forcryingoutlloud]

everyone pray for me i have my driving theory test next tuesday and out of like the 20 mock tests i’ve done i’ve passed two…

[pupywife]

Image that makes you to go ‘wahoo’ and ‘yippee’!

[forcryingoutlloud]

… what is going on

[forcryingoutlloud]

someone replied to one of my pictures on hinge and said i look like i should be in boygenius…… compliment or insult?

[forcryingoutlloud]

i write like 10 sentences of a fic and then decide ‘yeah that’s good enough’ and don’t look at it for another week and reward myself with a sweet treat

[forcryingoutlloud]

quick someone give me a name for the boyfriend/mattys brother in the ‘guilty as sin?’ universe

[slvtformattyhealy]

[forcryingoutlloud]

thank you sluts!!! (affectionate) 🫶

[forcryingoutlloud]

writing a follow up to the ‘guilty as sin’ boyfriends brother au! who cheered?

[abiiors]

MY FAVOURITE LOSERRRRR 🤍🖤

[satonatrainagain]

backseat

18+, fem!reader, 1k. haphazardly edited and not very good on account of being written in my thirty minute lunch break - don't look too close.

you can tell he's in a strop from the moment he gets into the car. you've been waiting in the empty lot for the better part of half an hour, waiting to hear about his day, but the words die on your lips as soon as you set sight on him. he's all huffy when he slides into the passenger seat beside you, running his hands through his hair and fisting at tired eyes.

he still kisses you hello, chaste and sweet, but there's little heart behind it. you ache to wipe the frown from his face and melt the fatigue from his bones. 

it's a bit of a gamble, really, but it always seems to work for you. 

“wanna talk about it, or fuck me about it?” 

his eyes are dark when they meet your own. you can't read his expression and it worries you a bit before he speaks, words careful.

“‘m not in a nice mood.”

you don't know if its a refusal or a warning, but it knocks the wind out of you all the same. 

“i don't mind.” 

he looks through you with a frown, begging confirmation, and you fix him with an easy smile. 

matty swallows hard and closes his eyes. “fuck, alright— okay. get in the back.” 

it’s a flurry of slamming doors and bated tension and then you’re bare skin on the upholstery, laid out across the back seat while he stands in the open door with a fresh cig between his lips.  

you’d quite like a photo of him like this someday; hair mussed from his own calloused fingers, tattoos showing through the fabric of his white shirt, fiddling impatiently with his belt buckle. 

you settle for committing it to memory. 

“here- hold this for me, yeah?”

he’s holding you the cig, brows drawn in concentration. it passes between you and you take a drag, wiggling further back on the leather on your elbows to watch him better. 

 “fuckin’ look at you - laid out all pretty for me.” 

you were already in a bit of a mood, but it's the way he's looking at you now that really gets you going. he's never looked at you the way he is now; with passion, sure, but this is something else. something ferocious. something that makes you feel vaguely like prey. it makes your skin prickle. 

he seems to change course then, abandoning his jeans and trailing a hand up the length of your inner thigh. your heart hammers in your chest, and wetness pools between your legs. 

he pushes them wider still, and then he’s got one hand tugging at the band of your underwear and you don’t even have time to suppress the little hiccup of pleasure that bubbles from your chest. 

you understand what he means by ‘not in a nice mood’, when he arches down, spits into his hand, and smears the mess of it over your clit. 

another two fingers follow and within minutes he has you seeing white and gushing around his knuckles. it hits you hard and abrubt when you cum, clenching his forearm tight to keep you steady. around the blood rushing in your ears and the moans that fall from your lips, you register his voice from somewhere above; “fuck,” he spits. “—yeah, that’s it, there you are.”

you’re sticky and panting when you recover, coming back to the sound of his belt swishing again. beside you, you register the forgotten cig dangling from your limp fingers, ashing all over the carpet. “shit - matty- hang on-” you start, folding your body in half and moving to sit up, but he pushes you back down easily with his knee. 

“don’t give a fuck. stay there.”

he takes pity at first, always considerate no matter his mood - sinking into you slow and watching attentively as you prickle around the burning shape of him until his hips are flush to the underside of your thighs. "fuck - matty, oh my god."

pity dies screaming at the hands of desperation. 

his thrusts are spearing in their steady rhythm, sending you sliding up the leather seats with every punching movement of his hips. its deep and molding and relentless. it feels like every nerve is alight, turning over and pulsing white-hot in your veins, and he just keeps going. 

you choke around a wet sob, free hand grasping behind you at nothing. 

he’s flushed red, cruel and lovely, as he reaches up one big hand to cover your mouth. 

his voice is gravel and laced with condescension. “i know, baby - you’re gonna come again, and i’m gonna keep fucking you, cos i’m not done.”

you cry out as he hits that soft spot inside you again, merciless, and then you’re clenching around him and shuddering around your second orgasm. 

it doesn’t take him long after that, or maybe you’re just out of it for longer than you realize. 

he loses about five years of stress on his face when he cums; crumpled brow softening and mouth falling open in bliss.

he’s got one hand on your thigh and the other on the roof of the car as he recovers, chest heaving and sweat beading at his hairline. 

for how cool the leather had been on your skin earlier, you feel now a little bit like you’ve slipped into a warm bath.

your words come out around a honeyed sigh. “can i’ve a kiss, please?”

he looks at you then like you’ve asked the most ridiculous question in the world, and maybe you have. you’re sure of it when he bends down and leans his whole body over you in the backseat. 

even after everything he's just done to you, he still kisses you the same as he did over breakfast this morning. sweet; cradling your jaw, and breaking free only when his lips are forced into a smile against your mouth. 

“y’ ok?”

you hum, card your fingers absentmindedly through salt and pepper hair. he softens against the feeling. 

“love you. sorry i'm a moody prick."

it’s all the energy you have left in your body when you beam up at him and repeat the sentiment. you stay like that for only a moment and then he’s crawling backwards, tapping at your hip insistently. 

“up. i'm driving. won't have you bending us 'round a tree cos your legs are still shaking."