i see her online, all the time

[inpleinsoleil]

why would he say that guys🙁

[its-me-em28]

(Sigh) it’s too expensive..

[shes-thunderstormssss]

Noel Gallagher if you see this: I’m so sorry I promise I’ll stop😔

I’m not gonna stop

[ohsonewtome]

he’s 5 years old

[shes-thunderstormssss]

The drastic difference between Noel being normal on stage and Liam doing whatever tf this is

[shes-thunderstormssss]

Toronto, Canada 08.25.25

[shes-thunderstormssss]

Guys I swear to god I blacked out during the concert at one point and could only see Kermit singing at me

[oasis-is-my-life]

Oasis’ handwritten lyric sheets. (What’s the Story) Morning Glory? (1995)

[wreckedandpolemic]

regret me - matty healy

(mdni) in which an enmity with a certain infuriating singer turns mutually beneficial. 11775 words.

warnings: oral (f and m receiving), semi-public sex, mild exhibitionism, praise, degradation, switch!matty

Entering Battle of the Bands at your local had started off as a joke. Mostly. Your bassist Sabrina had pointed out the poster last time you were there for drinks, and you’d signed your name. It’d be a laugh, you’d reasoned, a good way to get into playing live shows and meet some other local bands. Plus, a hundred quid cash prize couldn’t hurt.

But that was before you met Drive Like I Do. Or, more specifically, their insufferable little twerp of a lead singer, Matty.

He meets your eyes across the bar, smirking like he likes what he sees, and, honestly, he doesn’t hurt to look at, so you lift your drink in his direction and beckon him over. “Hi,” he grins. “I’m Matty. Are you staying for the show?” You nod, but he interrupts you before you can elaborate. “We’re on last, so you might have to sit through some right shit before it gets good. Have you seen some of the names on the lineup? I mean, True Romance? I bet they just named it that ‘cause it sounds pretty. Probably haven’t even seen the film.”

You glower, and it’s obviously not the reaction he expects, his face screwing up in confusion. “That’s my band. And True Romance is one of my favourite films, not that it fucking matters.” You get up from the table, scowling at him. “And I have a name, thank you so much for asking.”

Annoyingly, Matty’s right; most of the bands on the lineup are shit. But you figure that means you’ll wipe the floor with them, having actually rehearsed and learned your own songs that aren’t covers.

You look out at the crowd, adrenaline pumping in your veins as Grace tunes her guitar. This is probably the most people you’ve ever played for, you realise with a jolt, swallowing around the lump in your throat and stepping up to the mic. “Hello, everybody! How’s everyone feeling tonight? You feelin’ good? Yeah?” The crowd cheers back at you, and you grin blissfully. “Alright, I’m not here to dick about, I’m here to play some fuckin’ songs! We’re True Romance and this is Dream Girl.”

You throw yourself into the set, your hair sticking to your forehead as you sweat under the lights. Your gaze keeps wandering to Matty, sat in a booth with who you assume are his bandmates, nodding along and watching you with intrigue. He quirks an eyebrow at you and you tear your eyes away, grateful for the heat that hides the flush in your cheeks. The crowd is practically frenetic, cheering wildly as the final note whines out of the speakers, and you join hands with your bandmates and bow.

You blow a kiss to the audience and step off stage, passing Matty as he and his band take their positions. Checking the lineup, you scoff when you read the name of the band playing directly after you. Drive Like I Do? And he had the audacity to call your band’s name shit? But you quickly realise they could have the longest, most nonsensical name in the world, and it wouldn’t matter; they’re really fucking good. Matty looks like he was born for the stage, soaking up the crowd’s attention and magnifying their energy tenfold. It doesn’t even matter what they’re singing about (as far as you can tell, a video game) — every girl in the bar is screaming her head off, giggling to her friends when one of the boys so much as looks at her.

Okay, so maybe you’re a little smug that Matty won’t stop looking at you. You’re not blind, after all. Doesn’t make him not a cocky little prick. He comes straight over to you when his set finishes and you roll your eyes. “What, are you expecting me to fall at your feet ‘cause you can hit a few notes behind a mic stand?” you scoff, and he laughs.

“Oh, come on, love. No need for the only two good bands in here to be fighting. Promise I’ll buy you a drink after I win.” You scowl. “Oh, and she’s even prettier when she’s angry. Was it something I said?” he smirks.

“Fuck off and die,” you say with a saccharine smile.

Sabrina slides into the seat Matty just vacated. “He’s into you,” she says, passing you your pint with a slight wrinkle of her nose. You give her a look, and she scoffs, the pair of you so attuned to each other by now that you can communicate without words. “Oh, don’t be all you about it. He’s hot,” she laughs. “If you don’t, I will.”

“Be my guest. He’s a dick.”

She snorts into her Sex on the Beach. “The way he’s eye-fucking you? Tenner says he goes home alone tonight.” She leans in, smirking conspiratorially. “Or with you.”

You roll your eyes. Betting on a stranger’s sex life is… strangely on brand, for the two of you. “I’ll take that bet. Look at the state of him.” You wave a hand in his general direction, a pint glass in one hand and some girl’s ass in the other, her skirt hiked inappropriately high in plain view. She’s pouting, though, his attention clearly not on her even as he paws at her ass, gaze locked on you instead.

Sticking your middle finger up, you turn resolutely away as the other two members of your band wander up to the table. You lose yourself in the conversation, still wild with adrenaline from playing a proper show, and for a moment you forget why you were playing in the first place. When you’re announced as the second place holders, though, you remember, scowling openly because you know there’s only one band who could possibly be winning.

Matty extricates himself from the girls clinging onto him as the cheers start to die down and strolls over, setting a drink in front of you. “Here. Told you I’d get you a drink when I won,” he smirks, and you accept it grudgingly. Look, you’re not about to turn down a free drink, alright? “Don’t sulk, love. We…” He waves a hand, indicating both your band and his. “Collectively, wiped the floor with every other fuckin’ person in here. C’mon, don’t be a sore loser. Let me get you drunk, you won’t pay a penny, I swear.”

And as much as you want to punch his smug little face in, pour your drink over his vintage band tee, one you recognise as being horribly expensive, you’re tempted by the offer of getting smashed on Matty’s tab. Plus, Grace is giving Drive Like I Do’s bassist the eyes, so she’ll be fucking off over there either way.

So you take him up on it, downing vodka cokes until you can barely see straight, screaming in Matty’s face that Blur is obviously better than Oasis, come on! You don’t know how it happens, but you find yourself dancing with them and not hating it? Spinning breathlessly between Ross and George (who are actually pretty sound, in all honesty), you grab Grace and Sabrina by the hands and let them pull Alice, your drummer, into a circle, kicking your legs and laughing wildly.

Lost in sticky floors, thumping bass and a spirit-fuelled haze, you don’t push Matty away when his hands find your hips. You grind your hips back against him, let him press damp kisses to your neck, licking the sweat off your skin. A shudder runs down your spine, faint threads of desire creeping under your skin. “Stopped bein’ a sore loser yet?” he taunts, and your good mood vanishes like a snuffed-out candle.

You turn, slinging your arms around his neck and leaning in close. Matty’s tongue flicks out to wet his lips distractingly, the skin plush and soft. You have a sudden craving to bite down on the skin there, feel it tear beneath your teeth, taste blood in your mouth. You want him, and you want him wrecked. “You,” you say, low voice carrying all the intimacy of a kiss. “Are the most self-absorbed, insufferable piece of shit I’ve ever met. Bathroom. Five minutes.” Matty’s face splits in a wicked grin, leaning so close he could kiss you. You stay like that for a moment, sharing oxygen, the feeling of breathing him in intoxicating, like you’re drunk all over again.

The sticky air of the pub feels impossibly cold as you break away, Matty’s gaze burning into your back until you’re swallowed into the crowd, weaving your way into the bathroom. Matty clicks the door open a few moments later, glancing around furtively before slipping inside. All the air rushes from his lungs as you slam him against the door, one arm braced against his chest and the other tensed beside his head. A gratifying flash of fear crosses his face and you smirk at him, leaning close to speak against his lips. “Am I scaring you, baby?” He swallows thickly. “Good,” you breathe, connecting your lips in a harsh kiss.

Matty moans into your mouth, the taste of gin spilling from his tongue as you devour him. You kiss to hurt, to injure, to bruise, biting down on his lower lip and licking over the wound. He whimpers a little, from pain or arousal you can’t tell, but you have a sneaking suspicion it’s both. “Fuck, you kiss like an animal,” he gasps, chest already heaving.

You grin viciously. “Only when I hate you. C’mon, on your knees. I haven’t got all night.” Matty pouts a little. “Oh, what, did you think I was gonna let you fuck me? I don't know where you’ve been, you fucking whore.” His eyes widen, liquid desire pooling in his irises. “I’m waiting,” you hiss, and he obeys unthinkingly.

His hands come greedily up to your waist, fumbling with the chain looped through your jeans. Finally, he pulls it free, unbuttoning your jeans and tugging them down your thighs. Seemingly unable to resist, he presses a kiss just above the waistband of your panties, and you clench your jaw against the shudder that runs through you at the contact. “God, you’re so fucking pretty,” Matty groans, tipping his head forward so his curls brush against your lower stomach.

“Get on with it,” you growl, shoving your panties as far down your legs as they’ll go. Matty stares unabashedly at your cunt, slick with the only evidence of your desire you can’t suppress. You gasp as his fingers find your clit deftly, rough and calloused over your swollen nerves.

Without warning, Matty grabs your hips and pulls you towards him, so forcefully that you stumble on your feet. His tongue swipes through your folds, a pitiful whimper falling from your lips, and he smirks up at you. “Taste so sweet, darling. Like a fucking peach.”

You roll your eyes, gripping his hair and dragging him back to your cunt, his tongue lapping deliciously over your clit. “Use that pretty mouth for something better than talking,” you snap, moaning softly as he obliges. Matty’s fingers dig into your hips, nails biting crescents of frantic desire into your skin. He laps at you starvingly, tongue-fucking you deep and fast, the punishing rhythm making you dizzy. Heart rolls up your spine, his name poison-sweet on your tongue as you grind your hips down against his mouth.

You fist a hand in his curls, tugging sharply, Matty’s answering moan reverberating through you. “God, you are a fucking slut,” you groan, pleasure swirling low in your belly. “Like that I’m hurting you, hm?”

“Uh-huh,” he moans, indistinct and muffled as the sound vibrates through you. Liquid desire drips down your spine, pooling between your legs and melting on Matty’s tongue, hungry and sure as he buries it deep inside you. He pulls away to suck on your clit, your legs turning jelly-like as a pulse of blinding ecstasy washes over you. You aren’t sure if the bare bulb in the dingy little bathroom is flickering or if your vision is going dim, lost in mind-wiping desire as Matty braces your hips to press his tongue even deeper into you.

Whining, you clench your cunt around his tongue, holding him in place as his fingers come up to play with your clit. You’re barrelling towards an earth-shattering end, twined with the intoxicating power of having Matty whimpering on his knees. “Think you’re so much better than me, huh?” you murmur. “This is where you belong, on your fuckin’ knees for me.” He clings to you like you’re a mirage, like you’ll dissipate and leave him if he lets go, hard and begging and alone with your taste lingering on his tongue.

He draws sloppy figure-eights on your clit, euphoria spreading in your limbs, burning up your blood as you moan his name into the liquor-laced air. Your fingers scramble for purchase against the poster-plastered walls, losing your grip on reality, your impending orgasm stealing the breath from your lungs. A string of honey-slick moans fall from your lips, one hand buried in Matty’s curls as you roll your hips down against his mouth. He makes out with your cunt messily, wantonly, like he’s been starved.

“I’m so close, Jesus fuck—” you cry, slapping a palm over your mouth to keep from screaming as Matty bites down gently on your clit, the flash of pain enough to tip you over the edge. You tumble into oblivion, pleasure burning so hot in your veins that you aren’t sure you have any blood left. Matty licks at you, sucks on your clit, fucks you with his tongue as your cunt flutters around him, swallowing every drop of your arousal as you come undone on his mouth.

Matty’s eager, fucked-out grin is the first thing you see when you come back to Earth, legs weak and skull throbbing. Mustering up your dignity, you sneer down at him like he hasn’t just given you probably the best orgasm of your life in a cramped, dirty bar bathroom. “Just because I let you eat me out, you think that means I’m just gonna put your filthy fucking dick in my mouth?” you scoff. Casually swinging a leg, the tip of your boot meets Matty’s clothed cock, not quite a kick, but not much of anything else either. A helpless little moan tumbles from his lips and you laugh condescendingly, tilting his chin up so he’s looking in your eyes.

He grinds down against your boot, power thrumming heady in your veins. “Baby, please,” he whimpers, the sound dizzying and gratifying. 

“Pathetic,” you say, low and sweet. “Getting off on my shoe like a fuckin’ animal. Bet you’d let me do whatever I wanted, huh?” He nods frantically, desperate to please, his jaw coming compliantly open when you pull down. A thrill steals up your spine as a wad of spit lands on his tongue, chased by a bolt of desire when he swallows obediently. “Don’t come back out until you can fucking control yourself.”

You dress yourself, Matty still panting at your feet, his chin slick with your arousal, and slip back out of the bathroom. Like you’d predicted, your friends are too hammered to question your absence much, accepting your excuse of having gone for a smoke without question. The four of you laugh and sing and dance the rest of the night, Grace slipping away with Ross at a tasteful two a.m., you and Sabrina exchanging a knowing look at her lack of subtlety. At some point, Matty had joined you again, throwing you looks so venomous you’re a little scared.

Just as you’re calling it a night, you scrawl your number on a damp napkin and shove it into his pocket. “In case you’re ever after a rematch,” you say, low enough not to be overheard, and his answering smirk is wicked.

Sabrina sighs dramatically at his retreating back. “Hate to see ‘em go, love to watch ‘em leave.” You snort, shoving her playfully. “Alright, pay up. What did I say? Alone, or with you.”

Groaning, you dig in your wallet and slap a ten-pound note in her outstretched palm. “Alice, have I ever told you you’re my favourite?” Giggling, the three of you stumble out to the taxi rank, the sting of your loss almost forgotten against the heat still tingling between your thighs.

Matty doesn’t text you until the next evening, and you’ll take the grin that split your face at the sight of his message to your grave.

So about that rematch?

Don’t beg it’s pathetic

Had enough of that last night

You know where to find me when you’re ready to put up a real fight

You don’t hear from him for a little while after that, but something tells you the pair of you aren’t done yet. Or maybe that’s just his voice in your head while you bury your hand between your thighs.

Sabrina throws a house party for her twenty-first, because she’s still barred from every good club within ten miles for underage drinking. You’re a little tipsy, a little high, singing along to the CD spinning in the player and sipping a cocktail while you wait for everyone to arrive. The house is a sweaty, heaving mass of bodies by eleven, screaming drunk as you stumble onto the patio. You’re alone except for one other boy with his back to you, his silhouette blurred in the dark as you fish for your cigarettes, alcohol making your body uncoordinated and slow to obey direction.

Sliding one between your lips, you call out, “Have you got a light?” The boy turns, and your heart skips a painfully embarrassing beat. Matty smirks back at you, annoyingly gorgeous with a cigarette dangling from his lips, clad in a floral shirt and a worn leather jacket.

“Long time no see, darling,” he grins. “Was wonderin’ if I’d run into you.” It’s a fight to rein in your thoughts, running wild as want licks up your spine. It’s fucking Pavlovian, you tell yourself, getting off to the thought of him setting off some instinctual reaction to his presence.

“Been thinking about me a lot?” you tease, privately curious as to the answer.

He steps closer, and you try not to flinch. “Oh, I’ve been pulling the absolute cock off myself thinking about how you kicked me in the dick and left me on the fucking ground. Kind of scenario wet dreams are made of,” he snaps.

You laugh like he’s recalling a fond memory to hide the flush creeping up your cheeks at the image of him touching himself. “Oh, don’t be a baby. Shouldn’t have made it so satisfying to kick you in the dick, then.”

Matty flashes his teeth. “You were plenty satisfied already, if memory serves. Jesus fuck, I’m cumming, oh, God, Matty, fuck,” he taunts, putting on a high, breathy affect of your voice, taking another predatory step towards you. He breathes smoke out over your face, the grey cloud curling in front of your eyes, blurring the planes of his face and casting him in a hazy glow.

“You’re making me want to kick you in the dick again,” you threaten, but it lacks any edge, all the fight draining out of you as Matty lifts your hand to slip your forgotten cig between your lips. The touch sparks under your skin, stacked kindling waiting to catch alight, burn you up in the blaze.

“Breathe in,” Matty says quietly, leaning in to press the end of his cigarette against yours, the flame passing between you in a shared breath, smoke burning in your lungs as you draw the moment as long as possible, pulling it like elastic between your hands.

You blow out your smoke, twin exhales staining the air between you. “Kiss me,” you murmur, a breathy plea delivered from chapped lips, blackened lungs, through cold air into unreadable honey-brown eyes.

Matty takes a deep drag on his cigarette and flicks it away, taking your jaw in both hands while the smoke sits in his mouth. You try not to envy that it curls on his tongue, your lips parting instinctively for him as it pours from his mouth into yours. Your inhale is quick, perfunctory, an aside to what comes after you blow it out. His lips are soft, your bite mark healed now, moving against yours with what you could almost mistake as tenderness. His hands slide down to your ass, squeezing gently and pulling you flush against him.

When he slides his tongue into your mouth, you can’t help your relieved little moan, something cool and sharp and dangerous lodging itself in your ribcage. “Oh,” he says, delighted. “Missed me, have you?”

“If I say yes, will you fucking touch me?” you snap.

“So needy,” he croons, fingers skirting just below the hem of your skirt. “Wanna stay out here where anyone could see how needy you are for me?”

You stamp on his foot childishly. “If anyone ever finds out I let you touch me, I’ll kill you,” you say, the threat familiar on your tongue, a fraction of your control reigned back in.

Matty laughs. “You’d miss me too much.” You scoff. “Alright, let’s find somewhere to keep this secret, then.”

You practically drag him to Sabrina’s bedroom, and he raises an eyebrow. “If I tried shagging in one of my boys’ rooms, I wouldn’t live long enough for you to kill me,” he remarks.

“Oh, please. You think you’re the first guy I’ve ever fucked in here?” You don’t miss the way his grip tightens around your wrist, stiffening slightly. You don’t want to examine what that means.

He sits on the edge of her bed, legs spread and face expectant. “Your turn, love. On your knees, yeah?” You pause, and he laughs darkly. “Oh, you thought you were gonna get fucked?” he taunts, the words a mocking echo of your own, and you feel them like ice thawing in your spine. “Love, the first time I fuck you isn’t going to be in someone else’s bed at a house party. I wanna take my time with you, tear you to fucking pieces.” Your cunt pulses desperately, forcing you into obeisance even as you wear your disgust plainly on your face. “Oh, you want it bad, huh?” Matty murmurs, low and cruel as you unbuckle his belt and pull his cock free from his jeans. “Fuckin’ gagging for it, aren’t you? Go on, darling, get me hard.”

Your jaw falls open, saliva dripping from your tongue and trailing down his cock. You wrap a hand around him, his hips jolting at the contact. Pumping him slowly, his cock fills in your palm, precum sticky on your fingers when you dig your nail into his slit. You lean down, kitten-licking over the head, and he bucks his hips up with a gasp. “Someone’s eager,” you smirk, pushing his hips down with a smirk.

“Shut up before I shut you up,” he says, darkly threatening in a way that makes you believe him, arousal pooling between your legs.

Matty gathers your hair into a crude ponytail in one fist and you look up at him through your lashes. “If you push my head down, I’m biting your dick off,” you warn, lowering your head and wrapping your lips around his tip.

He moans, fighting not to thrust into the warmth of your mouth as your lips creep down his cock. “That’s it, baby. Go on, take it all. Take this filthy fucking dick. Good girl,” Matty croons, moaning as his cock bumps the back of your throat and you swallow a gag. You bob your head, inhaling deeply through your nose and trying to take all of him. Your nose meets his skin and you grin victoriously around his cock, sugary praise falling from his lips and his eyes fixed on you. “Look so pretty on your knees, baby. If you keep being good, I’ll let you swallow my cum,” he adds, and a bolt of lust strikes your core, tinged acrid with shame at letting him hold power over you.

You jam a hand between your legs, rutting wantonly against it, the friction hot as your clit grinds against the seam of your jeans through your panties. A moan spills out around Matty’s cock, the salt of him filling your mouth as he bucks his hips a little. Pulling up, you swallow around him, spit leaking from the corners of your mouth. Matty moans your name, the sound so sweet in your ears that you want to press it into a vinyl, layer it in the back of a song you can listen to over and over. A string of spit connects your skin as you pull away from him, sitting back on your knees to look in his eyes. “I changed my mind,” you say, the words spilling out before you can stop them, an unbidden admission from a hazy head and swollen lips. “Fuck my mouth.”

Groaning, Matty lets go of your hair and brushes it out of your face when it falls. “Fuck, love, are you sure?”

You smirk up at him, holding his gaze in challenge. “C’mon, Healy, you know you want to. Fucking ruin me, wreck my voice, make me cry,” you say. It’s a demand, not a plea, and he knows it. Knows that he’ll be giving you what you want, conceding territory in your battle, letting you knock a piece off the chessboard. But he wants. His hand tangles in your hair, his eyes closing as he moves like he doesn’t want to see himself capitulate. The sting in your scalp feels like victory, the ache in your jaw a triumph. Matty fucks your mouth with abandon, dragging your head and thrusting up to meet the back of your throat, moaning as you gag around him.

You’re helpless, your panties soaked with arousal and your cunt clenching around nothing. Pure, unadulterated need rises in you, needy whines slipping out around his cock while he fucks your face like a toy. “You getting off on being used like this?” he taunts, eyes lidded and face flushed. “Little slut. Not so fuckin’ mouthy now, huh? Such a fuckin’ bitch until you’re on your knees gaggin’ on my cock.” Lewd, wet sounds fill the room, his words pushing you to the precipice of submission threatening to overwhelm. You grind pathetically against your palm, desperate for more than the feeble embers flickering in your belly. “You wanna cum, darling?” he murmurs, lifting you off him, your breaths coming hard and heavy and impossibly loud in the sudden quiet.

“Please,” you whine, past the point of caring for your fractured dignity. “M’so wet, Matty, I need it so bad.”

“I shouldn’t let you,” he says musingly. “Not after what you pulled last time.” He grins, knocking your knees apart with one booted foot. “But I’m a gentleman. These, off,” he orders, kicking at your thigh to indicate your jeans. You scramble awkwardly out of them, kicking them into a pile of Sabrina’s clothes that you’re definitely going to pick up a new shirt from later. Matty presses his boot between your thigh, the pressure on your clit so glorious you swear you almost cum, a wave of pleasure knocking the breath from your lungs. “Go on, baby. Get off on my shoe like a fuckin’ animal,” he growls, your stolen words hitting you like a shock of ice water.

You hate yourself just a little as your hips roll, taking his cock in your mouth and moaning as he takes up his punishing rhythm. The lace of your panties is rough and scraping over your clit, pain and pleasure mingling in your belly and dripping on Matty’s shoe. Tension winds tight in your belly, a fist clenched so tight it almost breaks skin. Matty fucks your mouth messy and frenzied, his hand tight in your hair and your name sticking to his lips. It sounds like a curse, or maybe a prayer — is there a difference, if God doesn’t exist?

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, gonna cum, darling, don’t stop,” Matty groans, head thrown back in rapture. You pull out every trick, swallowing and humming around him, swirling your tongue across his skin until he’s spilling in your mouth with a broken groan. “Fuck, yes, good girl, take it all,” he says. “My little cumdump,” he adds, the words striking at your core, pouring liquid heat directly over your nerves, achingly hot.

You pull off his cock with an obscene pop, opening your mouth to show off your painted-white tongue. A string of cum drips from your mouth, landing over his wet cock. You lap it up eagerly, Matty hissing at the contact to his sensitive skin. Your hips grind faster, cunt throbbing with need. With your mouth now freed, you whine out filthy pleas, tasting burning shame in the back of your throat. “Matty, please, I can’t—” you whimper, cut off when he grips your chin and forces your jaw shut, smirking meanly.

“You can, and you will. M’not gonna help you, baby. Can get off on my boot or not at all.” His cool, impassive tone is belayed by his flushed face, lips parted and eyes wide as he watches you grind pathetically against him. Pleasure coils under your skin, tangling with the burn of humiliation, your head thrown back and incoherent whines falling from your lips. “Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ wet dream,” Matty moans out, dragging you by the hair so your gaze falls back on him. “Pretty girl. Can’t wait to make you fall apart on my cock, shit.”

Your cunt throbs near-painfully, molten ecstasy turning your organs to liquid, your climax sweet and hot on the tip of your tongue. “M’so close,” you whimper, pleading little gasps stumbling from your lips. You grind your clit harshly against the tough leather of Matty’s shoe, fucking debasing yourself as you chase your orgasm. Digging your nails into his calf, you moan helplessly, gripping him like a lifeline as your head starts to float clear of your body. His eyes glitter triumphantly, holding all the power while reducing you to a pathetic, pleading mess grinding against his shoe.

Ecstasy swirls in your belly, dizzying. It’s thick in your lungs, stoppering your thoughts until all you know is Matty’s cruel little smirk, his lust-blown eyes, his shoe pressed against your cunt. Your final, last-ditch act of rebellion comes when the thread tethering you to your sanity finally snaps. You might have sunk low, lower than you ever thought you could, but you will not plead to cum on his shoe. That final thought circles as pleasure knocks you breathless, a keening wail ripping from your throat as your cunt pulses. Matty’s hand tightens in your hair as you cum, aching bliss coursing through your bloodstream. “Fuck,” you mumble, your legs weak as you crumple to the floor.

“That feel good?” Matty asks, flashing teeth.

“Fuck you,” you snap, painfully conscious of how little effect your words have when you’re on the floor below him, your cunt still pulsing with aftershocks.

“I will,” he says sweetly, and you groan.

Trying not to stagger, you get to your feet. “This,” you gesture in the air between you. “Means nothing, alright? As far as everyone we know is concerned, we can’t stand each other. In fact, I can’t stand you.”

“S’that why you got on your knees so fast?” Matty smirks, still leaning insouciantly on Sabrina’s bed. You scoff, disgusted with yourself, and turn to leave. “Might wanna clean yourself up, love,” he calls as you shove the door open. “You look like you just sucked a dick.”

You don’t realise that leaving was a concession until the door clicks shut and you catch his smirk before he disappears from view. Slipping into the miraculously empty bathroom, you realise he’s right; you do look like you’ve just sucked a dick. Your hair is wild, raked through and tangled, mascara running down your face and your lipstick smeared over your chin. The matching ring that must sit around the base of Matty’s cock makes you smirk to yourself, a tangible reminder of the encounter that he’ll have to work to remove.

You manage to tame your appearance and wander back downstairs, finding Sabrina and Alice deep in conversation with Matty and George. “There you are!” Sabrina gasps, loud enough to be heard over the screaming music and loud background chatter. “Thought you’d fucked off home. Was just telling the boys about our gig,” she grins. Oh, right. Your actual fucking gig, where you have to play your songs to a crowd of fans there for somebody else, and somehow hold their attention for an entire set. And you’d just stopped feeling fucking nauseous about it.

“Love, why didn’t you tell me?” Matty says, mocking in a way that only you can sense, prodding at a wound only he can see.

“Oh, please.” You pour yourself a strong drink and take a long sip before you continue. “I’d rather not spew over the front row seeing your ugly fucking mug in the crowd.” George snorts and Sabrina swats your arm.

“Don’t be a cowbag, it’s my birthday,” she scolds, eyes lighting up as they land on an undrunk bottle of tequila. “I know how to loosen you up a bit,” she grins, brandishing the bottle and digging in the fridge for a net bag of limes. “Body shots!” She spins around, wiggling her eyebrows, and you tip your head back with a groan.

She grabs a knife from the kitchen drawer and wobbles over to the counter to start chopping the limes, forcing you to your feet before she lands herself in A&E. “Calm down there, Ghostface,” you laugh, grabbing the knife before she can do any damage. Slicing the limes into neat wedges with bartender-practised ease, you grin at Sabrina and clamp a slice between your teeth. She brushes salt across the top of your tit, her tongue hot over your skin when she licks it up. The shot glass slams on the counter before you even register that she’s picked it up, her lips ghosting against yours as she bites into the flesh of the fruit, the juice spilling across your mouths.

You spit the rind to the floor and cup her jaw, melting into a passionate kiss like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Licking the taste of lime out of her mouth, one of your hands threads in her hair, and Ross whistles. “Fucking hell, are we interrupting something?”

Sabrina snorts. “If that’s got you blushing, the things we’ve done to each other would make your head spin, pretty boy.”

You risk a glance at Matty, rooted to the spot with eyes as wide as saucers, like he can’t believe what he just saw. Interesting. “Who’s next?” you crow, delivering the words as a deliberate taunt to him. “I’ll even take my top off, give you some more space to work with,” you grin, peeling off your top and gratuitously squeezing a tit. 

“Do we get a snog, too?” George smirks, getting to his feet.

Sweeping your hair off your neck, you tilt your head and smile tantalisingly. “Only if you’re good.” Matty’s jaw clenches. Very interesting. Salt scrapes over your skin as George licks you clean, something molten and dangerous pooling in your core at Matty’s intense eye contact. George bites the lime out of your mouth and spits it to the floor, his lips finding yours waiting.

He’s a good kisser, his mouth sure and firm against yours, tongue brushing against your lips as he cups your jaw. Parting your lips for him, the sharp taste of lime lands on your tongue once again, George tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and smiling slightly when he pulls away. Matty looks at you like you’re a future regret, like the narrative is written and he’s only stepping into his role when he comes towards you.

Ever overdramatic and impaired by liquor, you drape yourself over the table, lifting your head to grin up at him. Matty reaches for a shot glass, and you chide him, meeting his gaze in challenge. “C’mon, it’s called a body shot, after all,” you goad, and he swallows, gripping the neck of the tequila like a lifeline.

“You’re insane,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. The liquor is cold as he pours it into your belly button, splashing from his trembling hands. The muscles of your stomach twitch, contradictory heat pooling in your core as anticipation creeps under your skin. Salt pours between the valley of your tits, Matty cleaning it off eagerly as you fight not to squirm. You swallow a gasp as Matty sucks and licks the alcohol from your body, the feeling of his tongue swirling gratuitously against you falling straight to your cunt.

With a grimace, Matty straightens, leaning down to grip the lime between his teeth, sharp tartness soaking your bruised lips once again. You savour the sting, Matty’s eyes wide with desire as he leans in. The kiss is messy, all top lip and tongue as you lick the tequila out of his mouth, slowly sitting up and slinging your arms around his neck.

One of his hands tangles in your hair, the rest of the world melting away the longer you lose yourself in his kiss, reality tunnelling down to Matty’s skin on yours. He exhales regret against your lips, pulling away slowly and thumbing over your swollen lip. Fuck, that stings. Matty smirks like he can read your thoughts, like your pain is sweet on his lips.

“Jesus, get a room!” Sabrina scoffs, chucking a lime at your head that you don’t have the facilities to dodge. Matty goes red, wrenching his gaze away from you and fumbling for a cigarette before stumbling out of the room. Sabrina squints at the space he vacated. “Like, will the two of you just fuck already? Instead of subjecting us to whatever that was?”

You glare, folding your arms and screwing up your face as if you can’t think of anything worse. “Don’t be gross.”

Sabrina gets up, turning to face the room at large. “Right, show of hands. Who thinks she just needs to fuck Matty and get it over with.” Six hands go up, and you scowl. Okay, maybe you do want to fuck him, but does everybody need to know about it?

“Please,” groans George. “He’s insufferable when he gets like this about a girl.” He puts on a high effect of Matty’s voice, and you snort. “‘Oh, do you think she’s gonna be there? Will she like this shirt? Does my hair look pretty?’” You roll your eyes, praying the heat in your cheeks is indistinguishable from the flush of the alcohol.

“Ugh,” you say, forcing a shudder. “Get me checked for a brain tumour if I ever fall for that.” You grab the discarded bottle. “Anyway, I’m done being a shot glass. Someone else’s turn.”

Your head spins as you take shot after shot, licking salt from Sabrina’s neck, Ross’ chest, George’s belly. The passage of time slips from your grasp, and before you know it, the party’s mostly over. The last few stragglers are drifting out, Sabrina nowhere to be seen, having slipped upstairs with a girl you vaguely recognise from high school about half an hour ago. Probably shouldn’t tell her that she’s not gonna be the first (or even second) person to get off in her room tonight.

You end up crashing out on the couch, stripping out of your tight jeans and leaving them crumpled next to you — your shirt is long gone. Not a big deal, you can nab one of Sabrina’s in the morning. By some miracle, your headache in the morning is only mild, easily quelled with a glass of water and some painkillers. The house is still, the previous night lingering in sticky floors and plastic cups littering every surface.

One of Sabrina’s guitars is propped against the wall, and picking it up unlocks a vague memory of picking the beginnings of your first song on it, before you had one of your own. You smile fondly, lifting it into your lap and kicking one leg over the arm of the sofa. Your fingers move instinctively, coaxing out the melody you’ve been working on, repeating it over and over and groaning when the next notes just won’t come.

“You’re really good.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re still here?”

Matty shrugs, sloping into the chair next to you, seemingly indifferent to your matching states of undress. “Hann was designated driver, and he fucked off somewhere between the body shots and the karaoke,” he snorts. “Brina said I could stay.”

“Don’t call her Brina,” you snap. “You’re lucky she’s so nice. If it was up to me, you’d be in a ditch somewhere right now. Or flattened on the motorway. Wouldn’t that be nice…” you say, wistful as if you’re daydreaming about his viscera splattered across tarmac.

“You’re such a bitch.” It’s a compliment, you can tell, despite his derisive expression.

Not dignifying him with a response, your fingers creep across the strings, plucking out a familiar riff that you can’t quite place. Matty’s smug little grin flashes you back to the day you met, and you realise with disgust that you’re playing the first four notes of Robbers over and over. Your scowl silences the taunt on Matty’s lips. “Shut the fuck up and stop looking at me like that before I make you.”

Matty shudders, shifting in his chair. “You’re so mean. Who hurt you?”

“This conversation is hurting me. Talking to you feels like voluntarily hitting my own head with a brick.” Matty just smirks at you, conspicuously dropping his hands into his lap. “Oh, my god. Is this getting you hard?” you scoff.

An infuriating smirk creeps across Matty’s face “I can’t help it,” he says. “You’re hot when you’re mad at me.”

“I’m always fuckin’ mad at you.”

“Exactly.” His grin is filthy, legs spread wide as your eyes trail down to where his cock is straining against his boxers.

Still plucking idly at the guitar, you speak without looking at him. “Touch yourself for me,” you say, snorting as Matty chokes on his inhale.

He makes a spluttering little sound, and you don’t look up from the guitar in your lap. “Are you being serious? Here? Now?”

You shrug. “You don’t have to. But don’t pretend you don’t want to. Go on, give me a show. S’just about the only thing you’re good for.”

Matty moans, the resolve in his face visibly crumbling as you lift your gaze to meet his. His cock is flushed and dripping as he frees it from his boxers, throwing his head back with a groan. Heat creeps across your cheeks, the display of him obscene. Arousal clenches in your belly as your name spills involuntarily from his lips, cock disappearing into his fist as he strokes himself.

“Yeah, that’s it. Just like that,” you murmur, breathing slow and deep to keep yourself controlled. Matty’s moans are sweet and syrupy in your ear, low and melodic against your skin. Almost without your knowledge, your fingers dance across the guitar strings, pulling the next notes of your broken melody free instinctively as you watch him. “So pretty like this, baby. Know you can be louder than that. Let me hear you, yeah?”

Slick sounds fill the room, tangling with his moans flowing freely from his lips. Your cunt is dripping in your panties, pleading for attention as Matty fucks his fist, the guitar finally abandoned in your lap. Your hips shift needily against the sofa, the tiniest pulse of pleasure humming through you. “Come here,” he groans, the dominance in his tone sudden and intense.

“What did you just say?” you say, tone carrying a low threat that you don’t even think he notices.

“Can’t make a mess, can I? C’mere, come finish me off. Can see how fuckin’ needy you are from here, love.”

Carefully sliding the guitar off your lap, you stand so you’re towering over him. He gazes openly at your tits, cupped together in your bra, breath hot against your skin. “Who,” you say, voice gentle but full of steel, sliding a hand into his curls. “Do you think you’re talking to?” you demand, fisting your hand and dragging Matty’s eyes up to meet yours, his little pained whimper falling straight to your cunt. “You fucking piece of shit,” you scoff, lowering yourself into his lap. “Get your hands off.” He obeys with a whimper, and you laugh scornfully. God, he’s too fucking easy. “You fucking disgust me,” you murmur against his lips, low and reverent like you’re pouring praise against his mouth. “Who the fuck do you think you are, talkin’ to me like that?”

You tuck him back into his boxers, rolling your hips down and tipping your head back as pleasure runs through you. “M’sorry,I—” You press two fingers against his lips to silence him.

“Gonna let you get off like this. That way you’re only making a mess of yourself, yeah? Say thank you, baby.” Matty ruts his hips up against yours, hungry lips meeting your neck and greedy hands tangling in your hair.

“Th-thank you,” he stammers, breath shaky against your neck. Want pulses sickly in your belly, rising into your chest and squeezing hard as Matty bucks his hips. It doesn’t take long until your name pours free from his lips, tangled in moans and expletives, and he goes limp under you.

Despite your desperate cunt screaming out in protest, you climb off his lap and smile patronisingly down at him. “Fucking filthy,” you say, staring down at his soaked boxers and committing the sight of him to memory, chest flushed and heaving. “You can get dressed and get the fuck out, now. Hope nobody points out the cum stain.”

Matty gives you a look that’s pure loathing, tinged with needy lust, and you jerk your head at him as if to say go on. “Just you wait,” he mutters darkly. “Just you fucking wait. I’ll fucking wreck you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

You don’t see Matty face-to-face for a little while after that, but that doesn’t mean he stops plaguing you. A concerning number of your nights are spent with your phone on your pillow, listening to him moan in your ear as you fuck yourself on your fingers. You have to bite down on his name when you’re fucking other guys, the word bitter as you swallow it back down, longing to spill free. It only makes you hate him more.

You hadn’t thought he’d actually come see you play, but George and Ross’ silhouettes are unmistakeable in the crowd of fans screaming for the band you’re opening for. As is the head of dark curls next to them. Your heart catches in your throat, bleeding over your tongue as you step up to the mic stand. The lights shine into your eyes, adrenaline pumping and nerves jangling. You introduce yourself, introduce the band, the few scattered whoops not even making a dent against the unimpressed faces of the front row. George shoots you an encouraging grin, clapping over his head to make sure you see, and it soothes you a little; enough that your body loosens and you can coax your fingers into strumming on your guitar.

By the third song, you’ve relaxed into it, instinctive. Your hair is plastered to your forehead, jewellery tangled around your neck, sweating into your shirt. The crowd has warmed up a little, nodding their heads and swaying, even a few people singing your choruses back at you. You feel electric, a current zapping through you and echoing out of the speakers. Matty is transfixed, you can just about see — his gaze hasn’t left you for more than two seconds at a time since your set started. His thoughts are so plain on his face that you can practically hear them, filth pouring from him and pooling around you, warming your core and… Jesus. Focus.

Mentally dousing yourself in ice water, you lean close to the mic and catch Matty’s eyes. “This next song… I feel like it’s a story every girl knows. You’re at a bar, you’ve had a few drinks, and you’re lookin’ for a bit of fun, right? And you meet a boy and you think he could be the one, at least for tonight. Then he opens his mouth,” you pause as everyone laughs. “And he just won’t. Stop. Talking!” You launch into the song, unable to keep the grin off your face as Matty recognises the melody, the one you played while you watched him get himself off. The memory heats you from the inside out, identical film reels flickering in both your and Matty’s heads as your insides burn with desire.

Apparently, the song resonates with more than a few, the crowd and the cheers wilder with every song now you’ve finally attracted their attention. Disappointment twinges in your gut as you realise you’re onto the last song. “You guys have been fucking phenomenal tonight. You looking forward to the main event?” Obviously, the crowd cheers louder than they have for you all night. You try not to take it to heart, though. “Thank you guys so much for having us, seriously. You up for one more song? Yeah? Let’s fuckin’ go!” Adrenaline rushing to your head and inflating your ego, you grip the hem of your shirt and tug it up to your neck, soaking in the cheer that goes up as you show off your bare tits.

There’s only one reaction you care about, though, Matty’s jaw going slack and his gaze hot and heavy against your skin. The room melts away, the tension stringing between you a living thing that roots you to the spot. The fuse is lit and you know it, can’t stamp it out. All that’s left is to find out which of you ignites first.

You slip into the back of the crowd just before the main act starts, and immediately get suckered into a sweaty, congratulatory group hug from the boys. You don’t even push Matty off when he smacks a kiss at your temple, his low good fucking girl murmured in your ear making you shudder.

The band you opened for are a little stuck-up, but nice enough, so you take them up on their offer to celebrate after. Their frontman’s grin when he tells you to bring some friends, if you like tells you that he’s going to be very fucking disappointed, though, when the friends you bring are four blokes from a well-known local band instead of the girls he’s clearly imagining. His face falls when he sees them, pushing off to chat up a group of girls hovering around the bar.

Which leaves the eight of you in the now-familiar position of being crammed into a too-small booth, with you once again half on Matty’s lap. “Can’t believe you wrote a song about me. You’re too sweet, darling, you shouldn’t have.” he remarks, and you swing your heel back and laugh at his hiss when it connects with his shin.

“Oh, please. You think you’re the first good-looking asshole I’ve ever met in a bar? Don’t flatter yourself.”

“You think I'm good-looking?” He’s wearing a shit-eating grin, too comfortable pushing your buttons in public. You need to grind him beneath your heel, put him back in his fucking place.

You drop your hand under the table, tracing circles in his thigh and feeling the muscles tense under your touch. “And he’s got selective hearing, too. Who's surprised?”

His hips shift needily against your hand, squirming as he tries to force you into giving him what he wants. “Oh, come on, darling. We both know this only ends one way.” He’s full of shit, false bravado layered deliberately in his voice that you can see through like he’s wrapped in cellophane. 

“In your dreams,” you bite out, pressing your hand against his cock in the same moment, kneading softly and watching blood rush into his cheeks as he swallows down a moan.

“Oh, every night, darling.”

Sabrina gags, breaking the two of you out of the bubble you’d been in, the hazy edges of your reality suddenly back in sharp focus. “Can you two stop being gross for two fucking seconds, please? For all our sakes?”

Rolling your eyes, you set your drink down on the table, dangerously close to the edge. “Oh, it’s my fault he’s fucking obsessed with me?” you scoff. “Read my fucking lips, Healy. Never. Gonna. Happen.”

You focus back into the conversation, relishing in the way Matty’s responses fall shorter and shorter as you tease, his voice going weak and breathy with barely-concealed need. With your free hand, you pull your phone out to type him a text.

i was fucking incredible on that stage today

hope youre ready for a long fucking night

not gonna stop unless you beg me.

Matty’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly as his gaze flickers across the screen, staring resolutely forward even as his hips shift and his cock fills under your palm. You slide your other hand under Matty’s jeans and boxers a moment later, his cock twitching needily in your palm. His knee jolts at the feeling of your hand against his bare skin, sending your full glass toppling over him, covering him in a sticky combination of soda and alcohol.

Withdrawing your hand, you gasp, turning and pretending to fuss over him. “Fuck’s sake, Matty, you- Oh, my God!” You give a spluttering laugh. Matty’s eyes go wide with fear, pleading with you as he correctly predicts your next words. “Do you have a boner?” you demand incredulously, pulling away from him in fake disgust. The table erupts into laughter, Matty’s face fire-engine red as his hands fall to his lap in a desperate attempt to preserve what’s left of his dignity. Oh, God, he looks so fucking good embarrassed like this, and it makes you squirm a little in your seat to know the humiliation is just turning him on more.

“He totally fucking does!” crows Sabrina, cackling and craning her neck for a better look.

“What’s got you all worked up, mate?” George taunts. “Been so long since you got your dick wet that you’re popping one from being next to a hot girl?”

“No,” Matty snaps. “I mean– I get my dick wet plenty, thank you very much. And I don’t have a boner,” he adds, attempting to push past you and escape. “I just— not feelin’ well. I should go.”

You elbow him harshly, and he winces, biting his tongue around a whine. “Aw, George, you think I’m– give me a second, sex pest, I’m having a conversation– you think I’m hot?”

He grins. “I think you’re a knockout, love. Hey, are you free tonight?”

You snort. “Not for you,” you shoot back, George holding his hand to his chest, mock-affronted. You finally take pity on Matty and let him out of the booth, surreptitiously sliding your hand into his pocket and dropping your spare key. Dramatic? Yes. A bit much? Maybe. But you’ve never claimed to be anything less. “I know it’s gonna be tough, but try not to stick your dick in anything that’ll cause permanent damage on the way home!” you can’t resist shouting at his retreating back. When he’s gone, you pull out your phone to text him your address.

go and wait for me, sit on your hands if you have to, but do not fucking touch yourself

if you’re good, i *might* let you cum tonight

do u want me to break in or something

check ur pocket

you’re insane

ill be home in an hour

can u behave until then?

He doesn’t answer, and you’re looking forward to finding out what that means. You stay for another two rounds, anticipation thrilling in your belly at the prospect of what (or rather, who) is waiting for you at home. Walking into your bedroom, you find Matty face-down on your bed and grinding desperately against your sheets, still fully-clothed as needy little whines slip from his lips. “God, you are just fucking pathetic, huh?” you murmur, your thighs clenching at the pretty picture he makes.

Matty gasps. “M’not touchin’, m’not touchin’,” he promises frantically, and you click your tongue.

“I know, baby. But that doesn’t look much like sitting on your hands, either,” you murmur, peeling out of your shirt and kicking off your jeans. “Couldn’t even be a good boy for me for an hour? Worthless little slut,” you scoff, and he whimpers in response. “Least you kept that pretty dick hard for me. Does that feel good? Grinding on my sheets like a little fucking whore?”

He whimpers, still face-down but not moving, like he won’t be able to control himself if he lays eyes on you. “Yes. M’sorry, feels good. Not as good as you. Didn’t mean to be bad, m’sorry,” he babbles, his desperation obvious.

“Look at me, baby, eyes on me,” you order. Matty obeys instantly, a punched-out groan slipping from his lips as he takes in the sight of you, his eyes glued to the silver barbells glinting teasingly in your nipples. You snap the waistband of your panties against your waist, the action beckoning his gaze down your body. “D'you think I look pretty?” He nods furiously, but you cut him off before he can start lavishing you with praise, rolling your eyes condescendingly. “Didn’t wear it for you, before you start. Thought maybe I’d finally find some hot guy to take me home and fuck me like I deserve,” you hiss, climbing onto the bed next to him. Taking his jaw in your hand, you brush his curls out of his face. Matty shudders under your touch, pliant and needy as he melts into your palms. “Do you think you can fuck me like I deserve, Matty?”

His pride wars openly with desire in his face, eyes glassy as his tongue flickers out to wet his lips. “No,” he says finally, the admission ghosting feebly against your lips. He succumbs so sweetly that you press your lips against his, licking the taste of sugary surrender from his mouth.

“That’s what I thought. I could be getting fucked right now, you know. Could’ve had any man I wanted. But no. I get your whining, pathetic ass in my bed instead, fuckin’ rubbing yourself off on my sheets like a disgusting animal. S’bad enough that you’re making me do all the fucking work, least you could do is behave,” you snap, and Matty squirms, your cruel words rooting in his brain, digging claws tearing his every coherent thought to shreds.

“Can make you feel good, promise,” he whimpers. “Let me make you feel good, let me make it up to you, please,” Matty begs, reaching out to tug at the elastic of your waistband.

You slap his hand away, and he whines. “Behave. So greedy,”  you chide. “Did I say you could touch me?”

“N-no.”

“Do you think you deserve to touch me?”

“I— no.” You grin, wide and predatory, and tug his shirt off over his head, running your hand down his slim, toned chest. Unbuckling his belt, you help him out of his jeans, the sticky, wet spot near the waistband of his boxers evident and growing.

You thumb over it gently, pressing the digit into Matty’s mouth as he moans and accepts it eagerly, swirling his tongue pornographically. “So fucking wet,” you murmur. “Needy little whore soaking his pants for me,” you tease. “Come here,” you order, sliding your panties down your legs, cool air kissing at your wet cunt. Matty scrambles to obey, laying between your legs and gazing up at you adoringly, seemingly unsure where to look as his eyes dart between your face, your nipple piercings catching the light, and your glistening cunt inches from his lips. “Go on. Beg for it. Beg for the privilege of touching me, of tasting me, of making me cum.”

“Fuck- fuck. Please let me get you off, sweetheart. Let me taste your pretty pussy, let me make you feel good, make you forget everything. Please just fuckin’ use me, I want— mmph!” You cut him off, pulling his face into your cunt by his hair, his pained little whimper spiralling deliciously through your body.

“Forgot how fucking annoying the sound of your voice is,” you groan, rolling your hips up against Matty’s face as he licks at your cunt like melting ice cream. “Put that mouth of yours to better use, hm?” You take his wrist in a punishing grip as he attempts to slide it up your thigh. “God, it’s like you don’t even want to cum. I never said you could touch me. Can make me cum with just your mouth or you can get up and walk out of here with nothing but that little problem between your legs, okay?”

Matty mumbles something that sounds vaguely agreeing into your cunt, pleasure coiling in your veins as Matty makes out with your hole sloppily. “Thank you s’much for lettin’ me… taste so fucking good, baby,” he moans, whining pitifully when you tug harshly on his curls.

“Don’t talk.” Your grip in his hair is punishing as he whimpers into your cunt, sucking and licking like a man starved. “God, such a fuckin’ slut, baby. You like it when I hurt you, hm?” His muffled moan of yes, fuckin’ love it vibrates through you, shivering pleasure ricocheting through every corner of your body. Matty sucks greedily on your clit, your hips bucking and legs kicking in the air.

It would be a lie to say knowing he’s getting off on the degradation doesn’t turn you on beyond belief. Your cunt pulses against his mouth, his tongue starving and wild over your clit. Matty tongue-fucks you, ravenous, his moans vibrating through your body deliciously. “Fuck,” you moan out, pulling hard on his curls to grind his face harder into your cunt. Heat thrums under your skin, biting your lip so hard you taste blood to swallow your moans. You must be suffocating him, his tongue buried deep in your cunt, but he just keeps going. A moan tears free, low and shameful, and he redoubles his efforts, swirling his tongue over your clit. You’re writhing under his attentions, dripping in his mouth as he starts tongue-fucking you at a dizzying pace. Tension pulls tight in your belly, close and electric under your skin as you clench around his tongue, Matty’s name spilling free from your mouth in a crazed entreaty, tugging on his hair just to feel his answering moan spiral through you. 

His teeth scrape over your clit, the flash of pain finally tearing you loose from your body, ecstasy cascading over you as your cunt pulses against Matty’s mouth. He laps at your dripping cunt, bliss flooding against his tongue as your body wracks with sensation. “That’s right,” you groan, desire pulsing through you, leaking into the corners of your body with every thud of your wild, insistent heartbeat. “Fuckin’ swallow my cum. All of it. Yeah, just like that. Good boy.” The words only spur him on, cleaning you up with helpless enthusiasm, essentially locking himself into an impossible task. Every swipe of his tongue only serves to make you wetter, his moans stirring arousal that pools in his mouth. You pull him off you by his hair, tugging him up to meet you.

Matty grins, already hazy and fucked-out, his lips and chin soaking wet. You commit the sight to memory for a second, bruised lips and lidded eyes, your own personal, yielding little doll. “Thank you,” he says without prompting, and you grin. All it takes is a few sugared words, and he’s putty in your hands.

“Been such a good boy,” you croon, swiping your thumb across his mouth and sucking your own taste off your skin. “You wanna fuck me?”

A flash of something dances across his face, some aborted desire he’s not brave enough to voice dying on his tongue. “Yeah. I– yeah. I want that. Really bad. But… I might not… last, uh, very long. M’so fuckin’ hard, I just want–”

You prise open his jaw, silencing him as his eyes go wide. “Don’t push your luck. I’m letting you cum, ‘cause you’ve been such a good boy for me. Cum without my permission and I’ll make you wish you weren’t born,” you threaten lowly, spitting in his open mouth to seal your words.

He swallows eagerly, nodding hard. “Okay. Uh-huh, okay. M’sorry. Won’t cum, I swear.” You push him onto his back, staring impassively down at him as you straddle his waist. “Can you– I want– please,” he stammers, words tripping over themselves to escape his mouth as you laugh meanly down at him. 

You dig your nails into his chest, anchoring yourself and scraping a mark into his skin. You start to trace your first initial, something droning and possessive buzzing in your ears, then think better of it. Slowly, you circle your hips, teasing the tip of his cock at your dripping hole. “You want me? Want me to fuck you like this?” Matty grasps needily at your hips, whimpering uncontrollable pleas into the thick, lust-drenched air of your room. He cries out as you slam your hips down, unable to stopper the moan that falls from your lips as your cunt stretches wide around him.

Grinding your clit against his stomach, you gasp as Matty thrusts up into you, fucking you impossibly deep. “Shit, Matty,” you hiss, pleasure pulsing under your skin. His gaze is fixed on your tits as you bounce on his cock, timed with his thrusts so he fills you as deep as possible. Running a hand up your body, you squeeze one of your tits, twisting the barbell just enough that it smarts a little, a pained gasp weaving effortlessly between your moans. You whine as Matty’s calloused fingers come up to circle roughly over your clit; sloppy like he can barely control his limbs. “Fuck, baby. You tryin’ to get me off faster so I don’t notice how quick you cum?” You grab his jaw so he can’t look away. “Pathetic.”

Matty doesn’t even speak, just moans helplessly as you ride him, rolling your hips and bouncing on him. Liquid heat pools in your veins, your thighs starting to burn and your heart pumping ecstasy into every nerve of your body. The slick sounds of your hips meeting echo off the walls, tangling with heavy breaths and wanton moans in a lurid melody you wish you could press to vinyl. Your nails dig into his shoulders so hard you break skin, leaving a tangible, lasting mark in the unblemished marble of his skin.

You circle your hips, head swimming with desire. Matty’s desperate little moans only turn you on more, his hips stuttering as he gets closer. Pleasure hums under your skin, a soft throb in the back of your skull and the base of your spine. Your thighs are beginning to burn with the effort, but you barely feel it as you fuck him harder, chasing your own release as it hangs tantalisingly out of reach. “You feel so good,” Matty whines, breathless and needy as he fucks up into you with abandon. His blunt nails dig into your hips, pulling you down to drive deeper into you. White spots dance in your vision, everything in your world going hazy but the point where Matty’s skin meets yours. 

Pleasure courses up your spine in a sweet, sparkling arc, moans flowing freely as Matty’s fingers tease back over your swollen clit. “Fuck, feels so fuckin’ good,” you gasp. “Doin’ so well, baby. Gonna make me cum all over your cock, yeah?” He moans, rubbing tight, frantic circles at your clit. Tension coils tightly in your belly, the thread pulling taut until it finally snaps, arousal burning up your veins and flooding out against his skin, moaning helplessly as he keeps fucking into you. Dizzy, you fall forward, bracing your arms over Matty’s head and cunt pulsing around his cock. Matty’s lips close around your nipple, licking and sucking feverishly as you ride out your orgasm. “Shit,” you mutter, his other hand twisting your piercing as he groans, every motion tinged maniacal with need. “Did so well, Matty. You gonna cum for me? Go on, baby. Fuckin’ fill me up, yeah?”

Your words tip him over the edge, cock pulsing as he spills inside you, moaning your name around your tit. He gasps and whines, writhing helplessly under you. “God, feels so fuckin’ good,” he moans. “Thank you s’much,” he adds, smiling dopily up at you as you climb off him and test your weight on your feet before you stand. When you come back from cleaning yourself up, Matty’s dressed again, looking so miserable that you can’t help but take pity on him. “I’m goin’, don’t worry.”

You scoff. “Come back here.” Matty freezes, spinning on his heel so comically slowly that you stifle a giggle. “Jesus. I’m not evil. S’fucking freezing out there, I’m not making you trek back to fucking Wilmslow after that.” Matty just stares, and you roll your eyes. “Come back before I change my mind.”

Matty strips to his boxers embarrassingly fast, but you kind of don’t have it in you to tease when he slots himself sweetly into your arms. It’s almost… nice. Blech. “Did I do good?” he murmurs, his voice soft and sleep-thick.

You scratch your nails over his head and he hums happily. “Yeah, did so good, baby. Dunno what happened to all that shit you were talking about wrecking me, though. Kinda seemed like the other way around…” you tease.

He laughs softly. “I’ll get another chance. Gonna look so pretty crying on my cock, love.”

“Promises, promises,” you say, the muscles of his stomach tensing as you trace idle patterns in his skin. “Are you gonna keep them?”

“Piss me off enough and you’ll find out.”

Excitement thrills in your belly, the words sealing the two of you into some kind of promise, a brutal, delicious game of chess that you honestly couldn’t predict the winner in. “You know I will.”

[leaawrites]

Study Session

Liam Galagher x fem!reader

Summary: Tutoring Liam was hell, but it brought an advantage. He was eager to get her attention in every way possible.

Warnings: heavy making out (mdni, 18+ only), heavy language, friends to strangers to lovers, not proof read

Wordcount: 2.2k

Masterlist

She wished it had been a joke, a dream at best. One where she could wake up from and not fear the middle of the day. But now she was standing in front of an all too familiar door with shaking fingers hovering over the bell.

It wasn’t like she believed the words of her friends about Liam being a maniac and how doomed anyone around him was. He was crazy, but not a maniac. She knew that. Growing up with him showed her that. It showed her every facade he had, the soft and angry ones as well as the freaky and shy ones.

When Peggy asked her if she could help him out with some school work, she wanted to say no immediately. It wasn’t like she hated him, quite the opposite, but sitting in his room again after years of no contact made her more nervous than the actual exam they would be studying for. But she couldn’t turn the woman down, especially when she doubted that Liam explained anything about why they stopped talking over night and why she never visited their house again.

She was gone from his mind the moment the cool guys wanted to hang out with him.

It still sounded the same, the way she could hear the bell and every footstep that neared the door.

Silently praying that it wouldn’t be Liam who opened the door for her, she even less expected the other familiar face grinning at her as soon as his eyes found her standing there.

Noel greeted her with a wide smile, pulling her into a side hug.

He was one of the only people close to them that knew what happened between her and Liam, having witnessed it with his own eyes. Seeing her walk down the street towards her home from the bus station with her head hanging low on the second week of grade 7.

A loud groan came from behind him, Peggy trying to shush Liam who was currently sat in the kitchen, just receiving the news of who was at the door.

“He sounds excited,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her lips.

“Oh, he’s stoked.” Noel smirked, stepping aside to let her in.

It still looked the same. The same pictures were hanging on the walls or put up on dressers and the fireplace. Her bright toothy smile grinning back at her. Etching the faintest feeling of comfort on her face.

“Mam, I don’t need some stupid tutor,” Liam came complaining, walking after Peggy as she made her way towards the door after hearing the bell ring.

“Oh, you’ve already opened the door, Noeli,” her Irish accent cutting through her words, cutting off her son. “I’m so glad yer here!”

Taking a step closer, she engulfed the girl into a hug with a motherly instinct, making her feel like a child coming home after a long time away. Noel was standing next to her, eyes flickering between the two of them and Liam. The shock evident on his face.

“Hey,” he muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets as Peggy pulled away, letting her line of vision be solely consistent of him.

“Alright?” she asked, not going further in friendly conversation.

“‘right,” his voice went even quieter.

“Don’t let her wait here awkwardly, you go up. Noel and I’ll be down ‘ere.” Peggy shoved Liam up the stairs first, making sure he took one step after the other and didn’t stop halfway to rush out the door and disappear like he’d done countless time at family dinners or events.

The two of them made their way upstairs, walking into the room together they’d spent hours laughing in, endless nights huddled together in his bed at the age of 5, Noel telling them ghost stories because they were too excited to sleep just yet.

She remembered how she’d cling to Liam’s arm, hide away in his too big sweatshirt he’d get from Noel when he’d grown out of it and silently mumble how everything was just a story and not real like her mother explained to her.

And Liam couldn’t get the picture out of his head how he used to mock her for getting scared so easily, saying she wasn’t ‘a real man’ if she got scared by stories, but he liked the feeling of her rushing to him for safety. He liked knowing that he was capable of protecting her. That she didn’t run into Noel’s arms anymore and make him stop talking with a pout on her lips like she’d done a year before still. She was running into his then.

“Still the same,” he breathed out, sitting down on his bed and awkwardly bouncing on it.

Letting her shove all her stuff down on his desk before she turned to him again.

“It is, yeah,” she said, looking around the room.

There were more posters on the walls than the last time she was there, more vinyls and CD’s and a new sound system that looked like it cost half a fortune. It smelled more of weed than before, but it wasn’t too heavy. It still felt the same.

“So, maths,” she said, pulling out the book from the stack. “And biology.” Another book landed on it. Making Liam groan even more.

“We don’t have to do this, y’know? We can just go out, have a smoke. Go to the pub,” Liam suggested, hoping he was still as convincing as when he still had to look up at her.

“I’m not gonna disappoint yer mam, Liam,” she answered determined, pulling out the chair and opening the first book.

Collapsing onto the mattress, he made it sound like he was about to die, but she just ignored him fully. Taking out her pen and starting to scratch down little key words of what she had to go through with him.

“Can you even do basic maths?” she asked, looking at him unconvinced after a long pause of silence.

“Course I can do basic maths, I’m not dumb,” he said, sounding genuinely offended.

“Alright,” she muttered, still not fully convinced but letting it slide still.

Scoffing again, she could feel his eyes rolling in annoyance without having to look at him. She knew how he acted. He hadn’t changed one bit.

The hours went by and with every answer she received from him, his talks between questions got longer. Stretching the time and making her even more frustrated with every time he asked, ‘how’s the weather doing?’ when she didn’t react to anything else he let out. Needing more answers, more action from her playing into his words.

He wanted to get her full attention on him again.

“Have you ever shagged someone then? Don’t reckon I’ve heard bout it from anyone,” Liam mentioned nonchalant, looking at the pictures adorning the pages in the biology book. Plants and cells and genitals every once in a while.

“Just because you haven’t heard it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen,” she shook his words off, writing down more questions for him to answer after she gave him a full lecture on the topic.

“Yeah, but with people like you they always talk bout it.”

Flicking through it page by page, his eyes flickering over to her every few seconds, he didn’t miss the look she gave him at his words. Hurt, embarrassed and caught off guard. ‘People like her’. Those who got barely any attention but were the centre of attention when people got bored and had to settle on those with barely any words in their dictionary of life experience. Every new one was an achievement, something worth talking about.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, quickly looking away again. He almost feels bad for his choice of words, but her next words made him feel miserable. “Maybe they were too embarrassed to say they did shag me then. Ever thought ‘bout that?”

“As if.” The scoff that left his mouth was louder than any word she’d spoken, even when she scolded him countless times and almost started screaming at him to shut up when he kept on rambling about the carrots that grew in their garden.

“Believe it or not, I don’t care. But you have to focus now, Liam. If you fail Peggy will also be disappointed into me.” It sounded genuine important to her, having Peggy be proud of her even when it was just getting Liam to pass his exams.

“Nah, me mum wouldn’t care. She know I’m shite.” Liam shrugged like it was nothing, like it was a world known fact that couldn’t be changed.

“You don’t have to be though.”

Her words were confident on her lips, making the lump in his throat rise even higher, sticking to his lungs.

“Did you actually sleep with someone? Someone from school.”

“What can I do to make you shut up and focus?”

Liam rasing his eyebrows. Ideas flooding his brain rather quickly. Ideas she could see reflecting in his eyes as they turned darker, in his smile that turned into a smirk. It was evident what was on him mind.

“No, forget it.”

“How am I s’possed to believe ya when there’s no proof.”

“I don’t care if you believe me, Liam. Focus.”

“Make me,” he challenged her, edging closer to the edge of the bed, leaning towards her.

His breath fanning down her face. Eyes focused on the paper, trying to identify the words she’d written just mere seconds before, but her vision was blurring, eyes closing and rolling as he moved his head to the side, breathing down her neck.

“Who was it?” he whispered, lips brushing her earlobe. Sending a shiver down her spine, nipples hardening at the sensation of having him so close to her again.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t been on her mind on countless lonely nights, but now he was there, next to her. Breathing down her neck. Challenging her. Edging her. Almost sounding jealous.

Deciding to see if this was solely for the purpose of more talk happening the next day, she moved her head to the side, acting like the closeness of their faces was just another Thursday activity to her.

“Why do you care?” she asked, tilting her head, watching his eyes slip over her face. Over her eyes, her forehead, cheekbones, her lips.

Staying focused on them for a moment before licking his lips and answering, “Wanna make sure that that gob who made you feel worthless gets his consequence.”

A breath hitches and when he doesn’t feel her breath anymore, he knows it was her that was taken by surprise at his words and not himself and let it show.

“Liam,” she finally breathes out and his name on her lips makes him eager to listen every time she’d said it already this night. “Why are you acting like you care?”

Taken back by her words, his eyebrows shot up, eyes crinkling in confusion. “Because I do.”

“You don’t. You haven’t cared for four years, why do you have to start now, when -” cutting herself off, she stopped her heart from taking over her mind. She wanted to tell him, wanted him to know what she had to live with ever since she saw him falling head first into the sandbox at the age of three. The feelings she had to bottle up for years.

“When what?” he asked, her words not going unnoticed by him. “What is it, love?”

“I just thought I’ve finally gotten over you after years of yearning for you and now you start with this shit. It’s not- It’s not fair, Liam. So, please, stop and focus.”

Staring down at the paper, rapidly trying to blink away tears that formed in her eyes as she spoke and saw the playfulness leave his eyes, she didn’t see the realisation form on his face. The fucking-finally-moment making it’s way towards the front of his mind.

“You fucking idiot,” he mumbled, laughing as he shook his head. “You think I don’t fancy you?”

Instead of an answer, he only got her to stop the nervous tapping of her pen against the notebook. Eyes not looking his way until he took her jaw in between his fingers and turned her towards him. Mortification raging in her eyes.

He couldn’t be serious, could he?

“Fuck, love, I’ve been mad for you since kindergarten. Proper sleaze just to get your attention when you’d scold me.”

And then, he pulled her even closer, closing the gap between them. Making her gasp against his lips and letting his tongue slip into her mouth. Moving as one, he took her waist, making her stumble out of the chair and onto his lap. Both her hands finding their way up into his hair, brushing through it, tucking at the strands when she’d slightly move over his jeans and feel him pressing up against her. A moan escaping her lips at the feeling.

“You were fucking pathetic for getting yourself in trouble to get my attention,” she said, breathing heavily after she pulled away to catch her breath.

“I knew after you discovered Barbies I had to be inventive,” Liam mumbled against her lips, pulling her in once more before he remembered how they even got into this position.

“So who was it?” he mumbled against her lips.

A chuckle escaping her lips that was quickly killed by his mouth.

He couldn’t be fucking serious.

[biblical-chronicles]

Storyteller

_____________________________________________

where Noel can't stop talkin' about you when you're not there, and soon enough, the boys bring it up to you.

_____________________________________________

There was a knock at your door, sharp and impatient. You barely had time to wipe your hands on your jeans before swinging it open to find Noel standing there, hands in his pockets, the usual unreadable expression on his face.

“Alright,” he said, nodding at you. “Pub?”

You blinked. “What?”

He shifted his weight onto one foot. “Pub,” he repeated, as if saying it again would make it more reasonable. “The lot’s already there. You comin’ or what?”

You studied him for a second, trying to work out where this was coming from. But then again, it wasn’t like you were about to say no.

“Bit unexpected,” you muttered, stepping back to grab your bag off the side table. “Give us a sec.”

Noel gave a small, satisfied nod. “Knew you’d be up for it.”

You rolled your eyes but bit back a smile as you followed him out, locking up behind you before walking down the road together. The streets were busy with the usual evening crowd, and conversation came easy between you—little quips, the occasional nudge of his shoulder against yours when the pavement narrowed.

It was nice.

Then, you stepped through the doors of the pub, and the second you did, the atmosphere shifted.

A chorus of voices greeted you, the lads were already well into their pints, scattered around a table near the back, and Liam—of course—was the first to open his mouth.

“Ohhh, so that’s why you’re late,” he announced, leaning back in his chair with a knowing grin. “Had to go pick up your bird first, did ya?”

You furrowed your brows, glancing at Noel, who had suddenly become very interested in the floorboards.

“Shut it,” Noel muttered, brushing past Liam to grab a chair. “She just happened to be on the way.”

Liam scoffed, unconvinced. “On the way?” He turned to you, lifting his pint like he was about to toast you. “Where’s that, then? ‘Cause last I checked, you live the complete opposite direction of here.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but Bonehead cut in first, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “Jesus, mate, you're like Lennon and Yoko. You just keep on insistin’ she tags along everywhere.”

Noel froze mid-sip, while the rest of the table erupted in laughter. You could feel your face heat up, even though you weren’t entirely sure why.

Before anyone could make it worse, Liam slammed his pint down on the table, expression suddenly serious. “Right, pack it in. No one’s gettin’ compared to Lennon except for me.”

And with that, the conversation veered into Liam explaining exactly how he was the only one allowed to be compared to John. You took the chance to lean towards Noel, voice low.

“…The fuck was that about?”

Noel cleared his throat, took a long sip of his pint, and muttered, “Dunno what you mean.”

You weren’t buying it for a second, but before you could call him out on it, Liam leaned forward, lazily pointing a finger at him.

“Anyway, forget that,” he declared. “You as well, remember to keep yourself in check with the comparisons.”

Bonehead snorted, shaking his head. “ Can I just add that Lennon wouldn’t be caught dead in a bloody bucket hat.”

“A visionary statement piece,” Liam shot back, clearly taking it more serious than the rest of the table.

“Oh, we all know it,” you said, smirking as you took a sip of your drink. “But let’s not pretend your Lennon thing isn’t a bit much.”

Liam shrugged, completely unbothered. “Gotta take inspiration from the greats.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Right. You’d have been well proud of me once, then. Ages ago, I was at this pub with a mate, they ran off to chat someone up at the bar, and I got stuck alone with some random lad. Had no clue what to say, so I just kinda—”

Before you could finish, Guigsy—who’d been quiet most of the night—cut in without hesitation, shaking his head like he’d already heard it before.

“So you named all the Beatles albums in order, only for ‘em to ask if you’d left your drink unattended too long.”

You blinked. Stared. Then let out a laugh, though it was more disbelief than anything. “What?? How do you know that?”

Liam grinned, leaning back like he’d been waiting for this moment. “Because, love,” he said, dragging it out, “our kid never shuts his gob about ya.”

Your smile faltered slightly as you turned to Noel. He was suddenly very focused on the condensation sliding down his glass, grip tight like it might shatter in his hands.

“Oh, come off it,” Noel muttered, shaking his head. “He’s talkin’ shite.”

“No, mate,” Bonehead smirked. “You’re talkin' about her shite. Constantly.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Am I some sort of bedtime story to you, then?”

Noel scoffed, shifting in his seat, clearly trying to act unbothered. “They’re takin’ the piss.”

“Are we?” Guigsy asked, before rattling off casually, “You put exactly two sugars in your tea, but only when you're in a bad mood, ‘cause otherwise, it’s just one.”

“You're also currently halfway through 'The Myth of Sisyphus' by Camus, find it dead good so far.” Bonehead added.

Your mouth fell open. “What the actual fuck—”

“Oh, and you hate when people call and don’t leave a message.” Liam continued.

At this point, Noel was a wreck. Face red, mouth opening and closing like he wanted to argue but couldn’t seem to form the words.

You just sat there, staring at him.

Liam just grinned. “Told ya,” he said, tipping his pint toward you. “He’s a proper menace with it.”

You turned to Noel fully now, tilting your head. “Got summat to say, Gallagher?”

Noel just swallowed, gripping his pint like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

He muttered something under his breath, barely audible over the laughter still buzzing around the table, then abruptly pushed back his chair and stood.

“Off for a smoke,” he mumbled, already making his way toward the door before anyone could stop him.

The second he disappeared outside, Liam let out a loud cackle. “Look at him go! You can't just leave your missus alone like that.”

You smirked, shaking your head as you drained the last of your drink before standing up yourself. “Gonna make sure he doesn’t collapse under the weight of his own embarrassment.”

Bonehead grinned. “Be gentle with ‘im, yeah?”

You just rolled your eyes and followed after Noel, stepping out into the cool night air. The street was quieter out here, the chatter of the pub muffled behind the doors. Noel stood a few steps away, his back against the brick wall, cigarette already lit, a slow drag easing some of the tension from his shoulders.

“You alright there, storyteller?” you teased, folding your arms as you leaned against the wall beside him.

Noel exhaled a stream of smoke and shot you a look. “Don’t.”

That only made you grin more. “What? Can’t handle a bit of teasing?”

He huffed, shaking his head as he took another drag. “They’re all full of shite.”

“Oh, are they?” you mused. “Because I’m startin’ to think you really do talk about me a lot.”

He shifted uncomfortably, gaze flicking anywhere but you. “…Maybe a bit.”

You nudged his arm. “A bit? Noel, they know things I don’t even remember tellin’ you.”

Noel muttered something you couldn’t quite make out before running a hand through his hair. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else than standing here. But you just found it endearing. He could be so cool and composed when he wanted to be, but here he was, shifting nervously on his feet, unsure what to say.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” you admitted, watching the way his jaw tensed at your words.

He shot you a glare. “You’re lovin’ this, aren’t you?”

You grinned. “A little bit.”

Noel exhaled sharply, shaking his head before flicking his cigarette away. “Right. Well. Go on then, get your laughs in while you can.”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Nah, reckon I’d rather do this instead.”

Before he could ask what it was, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

When you pulled back, you caught the moment his usual confidence cracked completely, his ears going pink, his mouth parting slightly.

“…You can't be serious.” he finally muttered, voice quieter now.

You shook your head, expression softening. “I really am.”

He huffed out a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck before finally meeting your eyes properly.

“Well,” he murmured, voice a little rough around the edges. “Didn’t see that one comin’.”

You smiled. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy talkin’ about me, and just talked to me, you’d have noticed.”

He stared at you for a moment, like he was still trying to wrap his head around it. Then, finally, he reached out, cupping your jaw with his hand, thumb grazing over your cheek as he leaned in.

This time, you met him halfway.

_____________________________________________

finally out of me hole, with class and a classic @shes-thunderstormssss request xx

sorry if it's a bit shite, I'll be back on me normal functioning soon me loves

[morningrein]

why is he so cute i love him

[didyoulookforme]

13 & 7 for the prompts? are those good ones i dunno… luv u

from this prompt list.

this is postmatty coded so i hope that’s okay :)

warning: 18+. smut. lap dance lol. subby matty.

you’re not expecting him to be here when you walk in, still a little out of breath from class, muscles aching in that really good way. you barely make it two steps toward the kitchen, already thinking about that first sip of chardonnay before your shower, when—

“hey, love.” it’s warm. familiar. happy. until you hear a loud clatter and him cursing under his breath. you spin around just in time to see matty stumbling over your bag, the contents spilling onto the floor in front of you.

“shit, shit—sorry, love!” he’s already on his knees, scrambling to grab your stuff and… oh, fuck. his fingers curl around a black leather stiletto, and, perfect, your garter belt dangles from his wrist.

then he just pauses and stares. his lips part slightly, gaze flicking between the incriminating evidence in his hands and your frozen, guilty ass standing there, completely speechless.

“what…?” his voice is so slow and quiet, and, oh god, is that dread on his face?

he shoves everything back into your bag and stands up way too fast, wiping his palms on his cargo pants. you watch the shift happen in real-time: his shoulders going tense, jaw tightening, that little flicker of something possessive in his eyes. you know his brain is going full worst-case scenario, and if you don’t say something right now, he’s about to spiral into some completely unhinged conclusion that is so not the truth.

so you panic. obviously.

words just start spilling out, way too fast, way too loud, an uncontrollable disaster that you can’t stop even if you tried.

you haven’t been going to writing classes. miranda convinced you to pick up pole and lap dancing with her as a winter workout. your best friend didn’t want to go alone, needed a partner. you’ve always been curious but never actually tried it. you didn’t tell him because you weren’t sure what he’d think. you take props because you and mandy like to really, really get into it. how you’re so fucking sorry...

you’re barely breathing between words, your hands are all over, and you’re so deep in your frantic, guilt-ridden monologue that you don’t even notice the exact moment his whole body relaxes. don’t notice the tension bleeding from his shoulders. don’t catch the slow tilt of his head, the way his lips twitch at the corners.

"so this is what you’ve been hiding from me, huh?"

his voice is way too amused for the absolute state you’re in, and that’s when you finally clock the look on his face.

oh, fuck him.

matthew, the smuggest bastard alive, is thrilled, arms crossed over his chest, watching you flail with that stupid, lopsided grin getting wider by the second.

your words finally give out before you do, breath catching somewhere in your chest as you realize you’re about two seconds away from full-blown hyperventilation. so instead of making it worse, you just stop. grab your glass. and down the rest of your wine in one desperate, dignity-saving gulp.

matty’s still watching you. like, really watching you. eyes twinkling with something you can’t quite place but definitely don’t trust. you exhale shakily, set your glass down, and finally force yourself to talk.

“are you mad at me?”

he doesn’t answer right away, just lets the silence linger, enjoying the way you’re practically squirming under the weight of it.

“i’ll only be sad if i don’t get to see it one day.”

your whole body locks up.

you choke on absolutely nothing, your breath stalling in your throat, and it’s humiliating, really, how fast the heat rushes to your face. because, for some idiotic reason, it hadn’t occurred to you until right this second that, yeah... if your chronically horny boyfriend found out you’ve been taking lap dancing classes, there was exactly zero chance he wouldn’t want a front-row seat.

he clocks your reaction immediately, and you bet your ass he’s absolutely thrilled. his smirk stretches wider, eyes flicking down your body in a slow, deliberate sweep that makes your stomach tighten. he shifts his weight and leans in just a fraction.

“actually,” he hums, “how’s your balance?”

turns out it’s non-existent because you have to grip the kitchen counter just to stay upright. your mouth opens. closes. absolutely nothing comes out. no words. no thoughts. just—

fuuuuuuuuuuck.

it’s the only thing rattling around in your head, stuck on a loop like a broken record. fuck. fuck. fuck.

so, naturally, the best course of action? more wine. immediately.

you pour yourself another glass, bring it to your lips, and take a long, desperate sip, praying it’ll somehow settle the absolute mess of nerves currently wreaking havoc inside you. when you finally dare to glance back at matty, he’s still watching you with that look: eyebrow raised, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to physically hold back a grin.

you exhale sharply, shake your head, and attempt to laugh. just a quiet, breathy thing, but it breaks the tension enough that you can at least string together a coherent thought.

“fucking stop it, okay?” you mutter, pressing the cool rim of the glass against your burning cheek for a second. “i didn’t want you to find out. let alone this way.”

“why didn’t you want to tell me?”

you shift your weight, playing with the stem of your wine glass. “dunno. guess i was embarrassed? figured you’d laugh or make fun of me.”

matty gives you a look. “babe. if i ever, in my life, complain about my ridiculously hot girlfriend doing something that’s sexy as fuck, just end me, ‘kay?”

that gets another laugh out of you, the pressure finally loosening in your chest. “so you’re not upset?”

he shakes his head, motions you over with a lazy little c’mere gesture. and you don’t even think. just step forward, let him pull you in, arms snug around your waist, chin resting easy on the top of your head. and that’s all it takes. your whole body unwinds against him, breath slowing, muscles unclenching. he presses a quick kiss to your hair, lingers there for a second, and just when you think all is fine again…

“so, can i see?”

you groan, shoving him back, which only makes his wicked smile stretch wider. he catches your wrist before you can escape, laughing as you down the rest of your wine and flip him off for good measure. he mumbles a few half-hearted apologies, not that he means a single one, and then his hands are on your face, pulling you in.

and the second his lips meet yours, it’s over. whatever half-assed protest you had dissolves between you, his body pressing forward until your back finds the wall, pinning you there, making damn sure you feel everything. and perhaps it’s the mix of the two glasses of wine you downed in record time and the way he’s shoving his tongue down your throat, but suddenly, you’re thinking that maybe having a little fun with him wouldn’t be the worst thing.

so you indulge, let him devour you for another mind-bending kiss before pulling back just enough to give his cheek a playful slap.

“but just s’ you know, i’m not cheap.”

“hmmm. wouldn’t expect anything less from my girl.”

you walk into the living room, biting down a smirk, trying to ignore the way your heart is rattling against your ribs. because what exactly are you about to do? there’s no routine mapped out, no carefully rehearsed steps, and absolutely no floor-to-ceiling metal pole to fall back on. but, well, guess you’ve gotta start somewhere.

and that somewhere begins with you dragging a chair to the center of the room and motioning for matty to sit because a lap dance is obviously the answer. he doesn’t hesitate for a single second, making a show out of pulling out his wallet and flashing it at you before he drops into the seat. which, for the record, is the same damn dining chair he’s absolutely fucked you over more times than you can count.

he’s such a fucking boy, but you love him more than anything, and honestly? there’s almost nothing you wouldn’t do for him.

so you take off your clothes.

your shirt and jeans first. then your socks. now you’re just standing there in your bra and panties, pointedly not looking at him in case the weight of his stare makes you change your mind. instead, you focus. grab your stockings, garter, and heels from your bag, stretching the sheer fabric up your legs, making sure the belt sits snug around your thighs. for class, you’d usually wear something a short skirt or an oversized tee, but given that matty is your only audience tonight, lingerie feels like the only right call.

while you’re busy adjusting straps and fastening clips, you completely miss the way matty’s staring. borderline hypnotized, pupils flickering darker every single time another piece of clothing hits the floor. the way his breath slows, chest rising and falling. the way his jaw clenches when he finally registers what you’re wearing.

because he knows this set. remembers telling you, offhandedly, that it’d look so fucking good on you. hadn’t expected you to actually go out and buy it, but now that you have? now that he’s seeing it on you, in real time, fitting like it was made for you?

yeah. he’s so fucking glad you did.

and then you bend down, ass in the air as you slide into your stilettos, and that’s when he knows he’s fucked. his head drops back, hands dragging down his face, breath catching somewhere between a curse and a groan because, jesus christ, he’s about to lose his goddamn mind. he shifts in his seat and crosses his legs so you can’t see how hard he already is.

meanwhile, you’re completely oblivious, too focused to care where your clothes and bag land as you shove them aside and decide which record to pick. something smooth, something slow. something with a rhythm you can move to. and as soon as the needle drops, the warm crackle fills the room. okay. you whisper it just for yourself, shake out your arms, roll your shoulders back, try to settle the nerves buzzing under your skin.

because ready or not, you’re doing this.

then, finally, you turn toward him, trying your best not to overthink it, just placing one foot in front of the other, letting the music guide you.

matty doesn’t stop looking or smirking for a single moment, his gaze dark as it drags down your body. you step closer, both of you letting out a breathy laugh, because is this actually happening right now? because never in a million years did you think you’d be here, standing in front of him like this. and as for matty? he looks way too eager, fingers already reaching for your hips, pulling himself forward to press slow, teasing kisses to your stomach. you swat his hands away before you can fully melt, pushing him back into the chair, tugging at his hair just enough to make him look at you.

“i’ll talk you through it, okay?”

his breath shudders, eyes flickering shut as he mutters a curse under his breath. but you know he’s enjoying this. you know it the second he uncrosses his legs, the outline in his pants impossible to ignore. your mouth goes dry at the sight, but you have to stay focused.

“all yours, darling.” and you have to bite your lip at the double meaning of it.

before your brain completely short-circuits, you position yourself between his legs, lean forward and give him a peck on the nose, nodding toward the wallet on the floor and letting him know that he better be nice to you. then you turn around, drop down just enough so your ass is barely brushing against his crotch, and oh-so-slowly roll yourself up, making sure your body never loses contact with his. you do it again, this time with intent, pressing down just a little harder over his cock on the way down, rolling your hips with deliberate slowness on the way up, arms stretching high above your head, moving like you’ve done this for him a hundred times before.

somehow, somehow, you manage to stay composed as the minutes pass, keeping your movements fluid, sensual, just for him. yeah, there are still some nerves there, but you’d be lying if you said this wasn’t exhilarating. it’s not perfect—far from it—but you’d never know that by looking at him.

because matty is done for. completely entranced, watching the way you sway, the way your fingers drag slow and teasing over your skin. so hypnotized that he hasn’t said a single word, unless you ask him something. and even then, he mostly just stares, mouth agape because the sheer act of forming words longer than four letters is beyond him right now.

and you can’t help but giggle, shaking your head, because of course it takes a lap dance and you touching yourself for matty healy to finally keep quiet for once.

you move with the music, letting the rhythm guide you instead of overthinking what comes next. just feeling it, letting yourself sink into the moment, into the way his eyes track your every movement. because you totally have this. and him under your control.

at some point, and this was never part of class, you push your tits together, just inches from his face, and oh my god. you actually have to bite your lip to keep from screaming when, without even looking away, he blindly reaches for his wallet and tucks some money between your breasts, fingers lingering on you to savor every single moment. and then he leans in, presses a kiss right against your chest, and your heart is about to explode when he rests his head on that same spot.

you’re sure you feel some of your slick drip down your leg, but there is no way in hell you’re stopping now. not when he’s completely at your mercy. so you slide your fingers into his hair, grip just enough to make him look at you and make him focus.

"i fucking love you, baby."

oh. you’ve heard it a million times before, but something about the way he says it now makes it hit differently. settles somewhere deep in your chest, makes your breath catch, makes your pulse quicken. because it doesn’t just make you feel wanted. it makes you feel his. entirely, unquestionably his.

and god, you want him. want him more.

so you push him back into the chair again, hands firm against his chest, because you’re not done with him yet.

you step back just enough to make him wait, before slowly raising your leg and dragging the sharp tip of your heel oh so lightly along his length. you’ve never been so proud of yourself. his head tips back, eyes rolling up like he’s seeing heaven, body melting into the chair, legs spreading wider, offering himself up completely.

“does this feel good?”

he nods mindlessly, too far gone in pleasure while you take your time, relishing the sight of your boyfriend falling apart right in front of you. you drag your stiletto on him again. and again. until you’re feeling him twitch and he’s actually whining, the sound catching high in his throat, desperate and so, so pretty. and then, just to be mean, you press down just a little, the tiniest bit of pressure, he chokes, cursing loudly, running shaky hands through his curls trying to pull himself back to reality.

but you don’t let him. because you lean forward, wrap your fingers around the cool metal of his chains and tug just enough to make him obey. his dazed eyes snap open and he immediately straightens up, sitting taller, waiting. and that’s when you finally straddle him, slot your body against his, press down and grind against his hips, rolling slow and deep, giving him just enough pressure to completely come undone.

and when he does—when his breath stutters, when his hips jerk helplessly against yours, when you feel the warmth seep through his pants—you just smile. because it’s not the first time he’s come in his pants for you. and it sure as fuck won’t be the last.

[noacfslut]

taker, believer - matty healy

this is part two of lover, leaver if you have not read that, then you probably should <3

i don't like you, but i love you, seems that i'm always thinking of you.

after matty leaves you stranded in the middle of his tattoo shop with the lingering feeling of his lips against your own and the taste of cigarettes on your tongue, you were more than desperate to see him again. but when he closes 102 tattoo indefinitely, you’re left to hope that he didn’t regret the kiss that kept you up at night. and as the days dragged by with no sign of the tattooed boy, you find yourself taking matters into your own hands, hopeful that you weren’t about to make a terrible mistake as you dial the number on his shops door..

minors do not interact!

tags: 18+, enemies to lovers, slow burn, needles, pain kink, degradation, angry/jealous/built up frustration sex, arguing during sex, choking, semi public/public sex, nipple play, piercing play, unprotected sex, two idiots who finally admit they’re in love

35160 words

“He what?” Carmen emphasized through wide eyes and a slack jaw, staring at you with almost as much shock as you had felt when you were left alone standing in the middle of 102 Tattoo earlier that night. 

It took you a few minutes to come back down to earth after Matty left, the feeling of his lips against your own still lingering with a fire filled tingle as you tried to catch your breath, bringing your fingers up to your mouth to graze your lips to ensure that you weren’t dreaming. 

You weren’t sure how long you lingered in the middle of the tattoo shop, feet rooted in place where Matty had left you, only to be broken out of your daze when you felt your phone ringing in the pocket of your pants. You blinked away the shock, staring down at the name that was shown on display on the screen of your phone - Carmen. You let it ring a few times before declining the call, quickly deciding that you needed to see her in person. 

It didn’t take you long to make it over to Carmen’s apartment, driving in silence as you allowed your thoughts to consume you, knocking on your best friend’s door with a pale face that had the smile on Carmen’s face dropping as soon as she opened the door - whatever reason she had for calling you to begin with died on her tongue at the sight of you, quick to ask you what was wrong and gasping when you caught her up to speed. 

“I know.” Your voice was quieter than normal, picking at the skin around your fingernails, shifting against her couch in desperation to find comfort against the cushions - desperate to ease the unknown feeling that had consumed your body from the moment Matty’s lips had pressed against your own. 

“Matty?” Carmen’s eyes grew impossibly wider, emphasizing the name of the tattooed boy, the sound of his name had your heart clenching. 

“Yes.” You spoke breathlessly, shifting against the cushions of Carmen’s couch once more, feeling exposed now that someone else had called out the name that had been circling your mind for the better half of the past hour. 

“Healy?” Carmen’s voice full of astonishment, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion and eyes staring at you in bewilderment.

“Carmen.” You fixed her with a pointed look, eyes full of annoyance that matched your tone of voice. 

“I’m sorry!” Carmen exclaimed, throwing her hands up in defense and shaking her head. A soft, surprised laughter tumbling from her lips. “I’m just in shock right now.” 

A huff of laughter came from your nose, reaching out to grab one of the throw pillows on her couch and placing it in your lap, desperate to have any form of comfort right now as you spiraled deeper and deeper with each passing minute. You sighed, eyes dropping down to stare at the pillow that settled between your criss-crossed legs, picking at the scalloped edges of fabric as you mumble. “Well, how do you think I feel?”

“I knew he liked you, I told you that he liked you, I love when I’m right.” Carmen bragged with a dramatic flair of flicking her hair behind her back with a smile, one that morphed into a roll of her eyes when you glared at her with a stare that you prayed would catch fire. “Look, I’m sorry, but this is a big fucking deal.”

“I know.” You repeated the same sentiment as earlier, emphasizing the simple words as your fingers gripped the edge of the pillow out of frustration, bringing your hands up to your face to rub the area out of frustration. “God, this is going to ruin everything.”

“Well, to be fair, the dynamic between the two of you was never good to begin with, not much to ruin.” Carmen pointed out, raising her hands in defense yet again when you spread your fingers over your eyes so you could glare at her once more. Your friend mumbles out an apology before allowing her curiosity to take over. “Well, what did he say?” You removed your hands from your face in favor of picking at a loose thread that hung from the edge of the throw pillow. “What did you say?”

You felt your chest ache at her questions, the reminder that you had been left all alone without so much as a glance your way as the door to his shop slammed close behind him, avoiding Carmen’s eyes as you mumbled. “Nothing.”

The shock was evident in Carmen’s voice when she repeated back. “Nothing?”

You sigh, tossing your head back, taking in a deep breath and holding it for a few seconds before releasing it, your shoulders deflating alongside the air in your lungs. You rolled your head to the side, finally meeting your best friend's eyes that had already replaced the bewilderment with sympathy, the sight only had your chest aching further. You didn’t want sympathy, you didn’t want the feeling that was coursing through your veins that you were desperate to name, you didn’t want any of this.

“Absolutely nothing.” You laughed bitterly. “Not a single word.” You felt the need to clarify further, shaking your head softly. You could feel the anger start to simmer in your veins as the memory of watching him walk out of 102 Tattoo played on a loop in your mind. “He freaked out and left, couldn’t even look at me.”

Carmen rolled her eyes, seeming to grow just as annoyed as you had felt. “Oh my god, of course he did.” Shaking her head. “Of course he would leave instead of facing his feelings, men are so fucking stupid.” You nodded your head in agreement, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion when Carmen fixed you with a pointed look, rephrasing her sentence. “The two of you are so fucking stupid.”

You felt your mouth drop open in offense. “Hey, how did I get thrown into this? I didn’t even do anything.”

“Oh, please.” Carmen groans with a roll of her eyes, leaning back against the armrest of the couch, stretching her legs out against the cushions to get more comfortable. Her sock clad foot grazes your knee cap as you stare at your friend, waiting for her to explain herself. “The two of you have danced around your feelings since the day you met.” 

You shift against the couch, eyebrows furrowing as your heart begins to pound, further pumping the unnamed feeling through your veins. “What are you talking about?”

“You guys aren’t fooling anyone, we all know what's really going on here.” Carmen sighs when you only answer her with a deepening of your furrowed brows. “You two have tried to play this off as some big fucking rivalry when in reality, the two of you are just fighting off the chemistry you feel and at first it was cute to watch, but now it’s just getting ridiculous.” She explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m fucking sick of sitting around and silently watching this all go down in hopes that one day you will just work it out on your own, but clearly that isn’t going to happen.” Carmen huffed, shaking her head and kicking her foot against your knee softly. “When will the two of you get over yourselves and just admit it?” 

You knew the words would come back to bite you in the ass, but you couldn’t stop yourself from asking with a racing heart and a meek tone. “Admit what?”

“Oh, come on.” Carmen groaned. “You’re really going to make me say it?” Her eyes rolled once more when you voided a verbal response by just raising an eyebrow instead. “When are the two of you going to admit that you’re in love with one another?”

You felt as though you were choking on air from how quickly the forced laughter poured from your throat, shaking your head fiercely as you tried to ignore the butterflies that fluttered in your stomach at the idea.

“I am not in love with him.” You tried to speak confidently, yet it was delivered as uneasy as you felt, shaking your head as you tried to not think about who exactly you were trying to convince - Carmen or yourself. “I don’t love him.” You repeated. “I hate him.”

Carmen sighed, fixing you with a pointed gaze. “You don’t hate him.” Your friend spoke softly, gently, matching the gaze of her eyes. Almost as if her words would scare you off if spoken any louder. “You hate that you love him.”

You were quick to laugh to cover up the fact that her words had your heart racing almost as quickly as the thoughts in your mind whirled, six simple words spoken into thin air and ignited the spiral within you to unravel rapidly.

“That’s not true.” Your voice not much more than a whisper, sure now that it was yourself you were trying to convince rather than your friend who was staring at you with knowing eyes that made your stomach churn. Despite the fact that everything inside of you was screaming otherwise, you found yourself shaking your head and saying. “I-I hate him, I always have, he’s the worst. Why would I ever be in love with somebody who I can’t even stand to be in the same room with?”

“You can’t be serious.” Carmen laughed, pitiful and exhausted, frustrated that you couldn’t just take a step back and realize why the two of you were always at each other's throats. 

“Carmen-”

But she was quick to cut you off. “How did you feel?”

“What are you talking about?” You asked before you had time to regret it, bringing your knees up to your chest rather than keeping them criss-crossed in front of you, hugging your arms around them and resting your chin on your knee caps. “When?”

“How did you feel when he kissed you?” Carmen clarified. “While he was kissing you? How did you feel?”

“I-I don’t know.” Your heart was racing, ears ringing as you shrugged, hugging your arms tighter around your legs for the support. “Weird, I guess.”

“Don’t give me an answer that you think you should say based on your supposed rivalry with Matty.” Carmen sighed, staring at you with eyes that made you feel exposed, silently cursing your friend for knowing you so well. “Just tell me, in that moment, how did you feel?”

“I don’t know!” Your voice was louder than it had been since you arrived at Carmen's apartment, not having to strain like this since you were talking to Matty earlier in his shop, the frustration in the tone as evident now as it had been hours ago with him. You huff, covering your face with your hands, shoulders slumping as your spoke softer now. “I don’t fucking know.”

“Yes you do, you just don’t want to admit it.” Carmen pushed. “You know that you can tell me anything.” She trails off, speaking softer now. “When he grabbed your face and kissed you, how did that make you feel?”

You thought back on the past year, back to the first day you ever met the tattooed boy, how instantly you were infatuated with him despite the fact that you had only seen the back of his head. And when he finally turned around and locked eyes with you, it was as if life had been breathed into you, flipping your world upside down just as his own nearly did when he almost stumbled his way off the ladder in front of you.

You thought back to that first day more often than you cared to admit, the bashful smiles, the rosy cheeks, the knocking of shoulders and kneecaps against one another, the electrifying feeling that accompanied the contact with his skin, the racing heart that doubled in speed each time your eyes locked with his own. 

How perfect he was, how nice he was, how you would have given it all up for him only an hour into knowing him.

How hurtful it was when he completely switched up on you out of the blue.

The way he turned from a sweet, charismatic boy who made you blush with every sentence that tumbled from his pretty pink lips to an egotistical, annoying dick who made your blood boil with every snarky comment that spat from his tongue of fire. 

The way he had changed overnight, blindsiding you and leaving you in the dark for months without an explanation as to why he had become so bitter towards you, without telling you what you had done to make him act this way - leaving you with a damaged ego and a fire to make him feel as hurt as he did you, thus creating the infamous rivalry that Carmen had been referencing all night. 

You never hated him, you couldn’t, you tried. 

Even after everything he had said to you or put you through; all the jokes made at your expense, all the petty arguments over the smallest shit that had been blown completely out of proportion, all the headaches induced by the music he purposefully blared through the shared wall of your stores, all the stray cigarette butts you had picked up on the sidewalk, all the months that he had made you absolutely miserable - despite all of this, despite the fact that you had told him more times than you could count, you still couldn’t find it in yourself to actually hate him. 

How could you when the sound of his laughter ringing out through your shop had warmth spreading through your veins? When his dark eyes stared down at the crystal in his hand, mesmerized and hanging onto your every word when you explained to him the properties of the stone, asking questions and smiling at you when you gave him an answer. When the smell of his cologne mixed with the cigarette he had smoked outside and clouded your brain, making you feel dizzy and desperate to find a candle that matched the scent. When you found your stomach churning anytime you heard someone refer to you by your actual name rather than the tattooed boy's deep voice calling you Jewels. 

How could you hate him when he had made you feel more in a single year than you had in your entire life?

He made your skin crawl, he made your blood boil, he made you pull your hair out from frustration, yet you still found yourself desperate for more after every interaction with him. You craved the anger that would simmer in your veins when he was around, craved the rush you felt when the two of you were screaming at one another, craved the way his dark eyes would betray him and fall to your chest when you’d cross your arms at something hurtful he had said. He made your heart race, he made your stomach flutter, he made you forget how to speak when his dark eyes were locked with your own. He made your thighs -

“Hello?” Carmen’s voice broke you out of your daydream, practically snapping her fingers in front of your face to pull you back down to earth. “How did kissing Matty make you feel?”

How did it make you feel? How did Matty make you feel?

And in that moment, it all came crashing down on you, finally able to name the feeling that had been coursing through your veins since the moment his lips had pressed against your own - really, since the moment you had met him.

“Alive.”

—

You found it hard to fall asleep that night, tossing and turning in your bed all night long when you finally made it home from Carmen’s. You were unable to think of anything but the feeling of Matty’s lips on your own, the memory of his hands holding your face as if it was a lifebuoy, the realization that you had come to while sitting on her couch. 

You spiraled until the sun came up, huffing out of frustration when the alarm on your phone sounded throughout your bedroom, trudging to the bathroom to start getting ready for the day and trying to ignore the anxiety that creeped into your stomach at the anticipation for what would happen when you faced Matty again. 

Would you talk about the kiss? Or would he try to pretend like it didn’t even happen? 

You were nervous, incredibly so, stomach churning with nausea with each passing step in your morning routine. How were you supposed to act around him now that you knew how he tasted? 

The nerves followed you out of your apartment, into your car, down the sidewalk and all the way into Seven Wonders - only growing with each and every step it took to get you there. You sipped on your coffee that you had brought from home, refusing to face Kian and deal with him today. Not that you owed him anything, the two of you had gone on two dates, nothing was official. It never would be. You didn’t even like Kian, you only went on the dates you had gone on to piss Matty off, knowing that the barista got under the tattoo artist's skin.

The coffee didn’t do much to help the heavy feeling of your eyes due to the lack of sleep, but it sure helped fuel the anxiety that thrummed in your veins, shaky hands that tapped a mindless rhythm against the countertop as you counted down the minutes until Matty normally arrived next door. 

The tick of the clock you had thrifted that adorned the wall behind you seemed to mock you with each passing minute, the pounding of your heart only picking up speed the more the minutes seemed to pile on, huffing in frustration when you finally allowed yourself to glance over your shoulder to check the time and see that Matty was more than fifteen minutes late. 

You didn’t have time to spiral about his late arrival, the sound of chimes against the door to your store pulled your attention over to who was entering the space, hopeful that you’d be met with dark hair and tattoos, shoulders deflating when the smell of cologne mixed cigarette didn’t fill your store - a young girl entering the space instead. 

You distracted yourself with customers that filtered in and out of your store, thankful that you were surprisingly busy for a Monday morning, it helped keep your mind off of him. Well, that is, until the people fizzled out around noon, leaving you all alone with your thoughts in the middle of your store. 

You were desperate to know if Matty had showed up while you were too busy to notice, trying not to think too much about the lack of music next door, hopeful that maybe he just had a headache today and didn’t feel like listening to any. Maybe he had spent all night tossing and turning like you had, maybe he didn’t get any sleep either, maybe he was too busy trying to remember how you tasted. 

“Fuck it.” You mumble to yourself, allowing your feet to carry you out the front door of your store without a second thought.

You expected to pull the door to 102 Tattoo open, swallowing the anxiety in your throat and ready to face the boy that had consumed your brain since last night, but found your eyebrows coming together in confusion when you were met with a door that wouldn't budge instead. 

You pulled on the door handle once more, stronger this time, but the glass door still refused to open. You glanced up, heart dropping at the sight of a white piece of paper with all too familiar handwriting etched across the surface and taped to the door. 

shop closed indefinitely. sorry for the inconvenience. to reschedule your appointment, please call this number. 

Your eyes burned with tears as you stared at his phone number written on the bottom of the paper, the anxiety that you had felt all morning was quickly overpowered by a simmering rage at the sight of the word indefinitely. 

Indefinitely? Not for the day, or the week, or even the month. He was closing 102 Tattoo down for an unspecified amount of time. You had spent all morning worried about what would happen when you saw him again and now you didn’t even know the next time that you would, or if you ever would see him again. 

You tried not to care, you shouldn’t care, one kiss couldn’t be the reason that Matty had closed down. Right? It shouldn’t matter that Matty hadn’t shown up to work, you shouldn’t be standing here spiraling about if you were the reason he was playing hooky or not. You shouldn’t be on the verge of tears at the sight of his handwriting taped to the door to his shop.

You shouldn’t care, but you did. 

Where was he? Why was he avoiding you? Did he regret it? Was he going to pack up and move his business somewhere else so he didn’t have to face you ever again?

You tried to distract yourself, walking back into Seven Wonders with your head down, desperate for your afternoon to be as busy as your morning was. It wasn’t, of course. Not a single new customer had walked into your store since you discovered the note taped to the door of 102 Tattoo.

You tried to distract yourself in other ways, but everything reminded you of him. 

When you tried to restock the display of various tarot card decks, you found yourself remembering the night that you had done a reading on the two of you and you both ended up pulling The Lovers card. When you tried to organize the table full of various crystals carved into towers, you were met with the memory of Matty helping you with inventory, the way he turned each and every crystal in the light and claimed it as his favorite despite the fact that he had said the same thing about the one before that. And the one before that. And the one before that. When you tried to move the display of jewelry, your eyes caught sight of a Tigers eye necklace, the sight reminding you of the one sitting proudly on your chest, the one that Matty had given to you. 

You hadn’t taken it off since the moment you put it on, so used to the weight of it on your chest that you had forgotten it was even there, almost as if it had grown to be a part of you now.

The necklace burned against your chest now, feeling as though it weighed a million pounds as your eyes filled with tears once more at the memory of how you felt when you unwrapped the necklace for the first time, how you thought that maybe the sentiment had a deeper meaning. How stupid you felt now, standing in the middle of your shop, running on no sleep with an aching heart while Matty was off doing god knows what, probably well rested and not even thinking about you. 

He had completely infiltrated your life, the memory of him was everywhere. In the coffee you drank, in the store you owned, in the jewelry you wore. It wasn’t fair. None of this was. How dare he make you feel this way, to kiss you with such passion and emotion and then run away, leaving you to deal with the memory all alone. 

Well, you weren’t going to let him get off that easy. 

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you found yourself storming through Seven Wonders, swinging the door open and pulling your phone out of your pocket as you made your way to stand in front of 102 Tattoo. Your eyes darted back and forth between the phone number written on the piece of paper taped to his door and the numbers on the keypad of your phone screen. You typed the last number with more force than the rest, huffing as you hit the call button and held the device up to your ear. 

The confidence and anger you felt simmered with each passing ring, anxiety slowly creeping back in at the fact that you didn’t even have a plan for what you were going to say when he answered, if he answered. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe you should hang up, maybe you should have thought about that two rings ago because it was too late now. 

“Hey, this is Matty at 102 Tattoo, how can I help you?” His voice was strained, tired, exhausted - yet the sound of it made your heart skip a beat before racing against your rib cage.

You should have been embarrassed, the way you yearned to hear him, to see him, chest aching for him in a way that you’d think you hadn’t heard from him in months when in reality it had been less than 24 hours since his lips had been pressed to your own - but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed when just the sound of his breathing on the other end of the phone eased some of the ache in your chest.

You forgot how to speak, how to breathe, how to think. You knew that Matty was waiting for a response on the other end, probably confused as to why no one was answering him, but you couldn’t find the words to speak despite how desperately you were searching for them.

“Hello?” Matty’s voice matched the confusion that you knew was written on his face, you could perfectly envision his thick eyebrows scrunched together. “Did you dial the wrong number?”

The sound of Matty shuffling on the other end of the line jumpstarted you to speak out of fear that he was about to hang up, you weren’t sure if you would ever find the courage to call him again.

“No, sorry.” You rushed out, clearing the anxiety from your throat, your heart pounding against your chest. “I just- I didn’t think you’d answer.”

And really, it was stupid of you to think that he wouldn’t, he had no indication to think that the number calling him would be you. Matty was silent on the other end for a beat, your heart climbing your throat with each passing second of silence. 

You heard Matty clear his throat, holding your breath as you waited for his voice to speak into your ear through the phone. “Is that you?”

Your heart dropped from your throat down to your toes at his question, how did he know it was you? Did he know the sound of your voice that well? You were scared to confirm, nervous of what he might do or say if you told him your name even though you were sure he already knew who he was speaking to. And even though you both knew his question didn’t really need an answer, you found yourself dumbly asking. “Who?”

Matty was silent for a beat, you held your breath and soon the call was dropped. 

Now you were absolutely positive that you were the reason Matty had closed up 102 Tattoo indefinitely, the word mocked you as you stared at the handwritten note on the door with tear filled eyes and the phone still held up to your ear. 

Matty was avoiding you, he didn’t want to see you after what happened, you felt sick to your stomach. 

You gripped the phone in your hand tighter, knuckles white as you stared at his handwriting on the paper in front of you until a tear finally trickled down your cheek, you were unsure if it was due to the sadness you felt for thinking that maybe the kiss was the start of something between you and Matty or the anger you felt for Matty allowing you to believe that for even a second before dipping out indefinitely. 

You gripped the phone impossibly tighter as the rage coursing through your veins consumed you, having to stop yourself from throwing your phone down on the concrete beneath your feet and smashing it into pieces, needing to take your anger out on something. 

You chose to do the next best thing, taking your anger out on the note he had written and taped to the door, grabbing the piece of paper with vengeance and crumbling it up as another tear fell from your eye. You put your phone in your pocket, using both hands to ball up the piece of paper as tight as you could before throwing it down on the concrete in front of the door to his shop, the action proved to be quite cathartic and symbolic of the way he always seemed to leave his stray, forgotten cigarettes outside of the door to your own.

You stared down at the crumpled piece of paper, barely visible through the blur of your tears as your mind whirled with so many emotions that it was hard to pinpoint any of them.

Standing in the same spot you had been the very first day that you had saw him, you found yourself almost wishing that you had never met him at all, cursing the tears that flowed down your cheeks as freely as Matty probably felt sitting at home without a care in the world about you or your feelings.

Almost.

Though in reality you knew that if you had the choice to do it all over again, you’d say yes in a heartbeat just to feel his hands on your face, his lips pressed to your own one more time. 

Instead, you found yourself walking back into Seven Wonders with slumped shoulders and an aching heart, knowing that there was nothing you could do now except try and get over him and hope that indefinitely didn’t mean forever. 

— 

“Thanks for coming in!” You smile at the teenage girl and who you could only assume was her mother on the other side of the counter, holding out the bag that contained the items she had just purchased, waiting on one of them to take the bag from your grasp. You wave them goodbye as you lean against the counter with a sigh, already missing the presence of other people in your store as soon as they walk out of the front door, missing the distraction the customers provided you from thinking about the lack of annoyance next door. 

It was a rather slow day, unfortunately for you, not only from a business standpoint but also because it was rather hard to stop yourself from spiraling about Matty when you were left alone with nothing but your thoughts and whatever song from the perfectly curated playlist you had made softly playing through the speakers of your shop. Ironically, you missed the headaches from the music that usually blared from next door. 

You found yourself missing, well, everything now that he was gone.

It was only a day after you had found the handwritten note taped to the door of his shop and you couldn’t seem to shake the empty pit in your stomach ever since you had first laid eyes on it. Everything reminded you of him; the puddle that remained in the parking lot next to your parking spot after last night's rain that he would have loved to splash you with while pulling his motorcycle in right next to your car, the littered cigarettes that scattered along the sidewalk that he would have chosen to throw outside of your store instead, the warmth from the sun that shined so brightly after last night’s storm that didn’t heat your skin even a fraction as much as his stare did.  

You couldn’t get the tattooed boy out of your head, not that this was anything new, it was something you had struggled with since the very first moment you had met him. Only heightened now that you had the memory of his soft pink lips pressed against your own to add fuel to the fire of memories that played on a constant loop day in and day out, this particular one taking over the forefront of your mind. How his lips felt moving against your own, how he tasted, how you almost considered picking up a pack of cigarettes on the way to work this morning and smoking one for the first time just to have something close to the memory. 

It was pathetic, embarrassing and sad the way that you were so infatuated, obsessed and hung up on some boy who probably wasn’t even thinking about you right now. 

You were interrupted out of your thoughts by the sound of clattering that banged against the wall you shared with the tattoo shop next door, the noise made you jump slightly, instinctively muttering out, “For fucks sake.” before realizing where the sound had come from. 

You stood up straight so fast that you felt rather dizzy, staring at the wall you shared with 102 Tattoo with a racing heart, was Matty back already? I mean, he had to be, right? Who else would be inside of his shop right now?

You stood there, weighing out your options and debating whether or not you should go over and speak to him, your feet were carrying you out the front door of Seven Wonders before you could even think of the cons of what facing him would bring. 

You swing open the door to 102 Tattoo, met with no resistance unlike the bolted door had brought you yesterday, the chimes at the top of his door ringing out throughout the otherwise quiet shop. You stand a few steps into the tattoo shop, allowing the door to slowly close behind you as you glance around in desperation to land on a head of dark hair, your stomach sinking when you didn’t see him.

Maybe something had just fallen off the wall, maybe there was a ghost, maybe it was mocking you for the way Matty seemed to be ghosting you. 

But then why would the door be unlocked?

“Hello?” You speak tentatively, hesitant to take a step forward, what if someone had broken in?

You hear the sound of what seems to be someone hitting their head on the counter, a mumbled “shit!” echoed throughout the tattoo shop and jump started your heart to race yet again, knowing for certain that you weren’t alone anymore. 

You should have prepared something to say to him before making your way in here, unsure what you were going to do when you faced him for the first time since his lips were locked with your own, how would he react to you standing in front of him?

But you wouldn’t have to worry about any of that because it was a boy with brown hair standing up from behind the counter instead of the dark hair you so desperately longed to see. “Oh.” You mumbled with slumped shoulders. “You’re not Matty.”

The stranger places his hand on the counter in front of him, putting some of his weight on it as he tilts his head. “No, I’m not.” His mouth turning up into a cheshire like grin, his eyes narrowing in a way as if he already had you all figured out. “But you must be Jewels.”

Your heart dropped at the use of the nickname Matty had given you almost a year ago, no one else had ever called you it before, strictly reserved for him. So how did this stranger know who you were well enough to use it when you had never seen him before?

“I am.” You found yourself confirming before you could even think about how the nickname the tattooed boy had given you had seeped into your identity. You narrow your own eyes at the boy standing behind the counter. “How did you know that?”

His brown eyes scan over your body easily, his mouth turned into a full blown smirk now, a huff of laughter coming from his nose as he shrugged. “Lucky guess.” 

You crossed your arms over your chest on instinct, feeling exposed and insecure with the way he was looking at you, not liking the brown eyes that roamed your body when they didn’t belong to Matty. The boy huffs, bringing his hand out to reference you.

“The crystal jewelry, the judgmental look in your eye, the way you stormed in here.” He speaks about you as if he has known you for far longer than five minutes, the thought makes your mind spin. “You have to be the girl he’s moping about.” He shrugs, casual, as if the statement didn’t have your heart nearly beating out of your chest. He gives you another once over, a smile twitching at his lips. “Pictures don’t do you justice.”

You try and swallow the lump in your throat, shifting your weight between your feet as you tighten your arms against yourself. Your head was spinning with so many thoughts that it was hard to focus on just one to voice.

“Moping?” You question, clearing your throat and shifting under the strangers stare. “Who?” The question had you shaking your head slightly, realizing that you still didn’t know the man standing in front of you, the man who had a key to Matty’s tattoo shop. “And who are you?”

The brown haired boy snorts. “Matty, obviously.” He spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, staring at you as if you were silly for even asking. “He hasn’t shut up about you for days.” The statement makes your heart skip a beat, the air knocks from your lungs, the stranger continues to speak casually as if he wasn’t kicking your legs out from under you. “Not that that’s any different than normal, but.” He sighs, holding his hand out for you to shake with a bright smile on his face. “I’m George, by the way.”

You stare at the stranger's hand for a beat of hesitation, glancing up at the boy in front of you through furrowed brows before softening them and finally accepting the hand he offered, quick to drop it in favor of crossing your arms back over your chest - inhaling a deep breath before questioning him further.

“Okay, George.” You emphasize his name, raising a brow ever so slightly with eyes that narrow in curiosity. “What are you doing here?”

Your eyes adjust to watch the way his arm comes up from behind the counter, a black, shiny motorcycle helmet held in his hand, George nods his head down towards the object. “Had to come and get this.” The confusion must not have faded from your eyes because the brunette elaborates. “Matty left it here.” Your heart clenches at the name. “And while he likes to think he’s an invincible badass who doesn’t need protection, I have to be the one to humble him and remind him that he does.”

You would have laughed at George’s joke if your brain had the capacity to even register it, too busy whirling the brunettes words around in a tornado that had the pit in your stomach sinking deeper and deeper until you found yourself voicing your thoughts out loud. 

“So, instead of coming to get his helmet himself, he sent you to do it for him?” You nod slowly, George mirroring the action, blind to the spiral behind your eyes. “So he is avoiding me, then.”

George’s face softens, a sigh tumbling from his mouth as he rests Matty’s motorcycle helmet down on the counter. “I wouldn’t call it avoiding you, he’s just-”

“Oh, you wouldn’t?” You were quick to interrupt George, words falling out through a scoff. “Closing his shop indefinitely,” the word is all but spat from your tongue as you put it in mocking quotations, your voice growing more frustrated with each word that fell from it. “Hanging up as soon as he realizes it's me on the phone, sending someone else to come and grab something for him? I mean, if that's not him avoiding me then I would love to know what the fuck it is.” Your hand comes up to rub at your forehead, closing your eyes for a breath before sighing and looking back over at George with a softer gaze. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to take it out on you, I just - I’m not crazy.” 

“I never said you were.” 

“So he is avoiding me, right?” You ask again, heart thumping against your chest, maybe even cracking a little. “Please just be honest with me, don’t tell me what I want to hear.”

George sighs, hesitating, debating if he was going to betray the secrecy his friend had sworn him to in case he ran into you. “More or less.” He settles on, grimacing slightly as he shakes his head softly. “Look, this is just what he does, okay? He would rather run away from his problems instead of facing them.” George explains, hesitating before glancing up and down your frame. “Or his feelings.” Your heart skips a beat at what George might be implying. “It’s dumb, but that’s just Matty. He’s a fucking idiot, okay?” George laughs pitifully, huffing. “I’ve been telling him so for months.”

Your heart was beating so hard that you feared it might jump from your chest, feeling rather light headed as your brain tried to process the information George was giving you, fighting to decipher the underlying meaning behind all of the emphasized words and pointed looks - only able to focus on one word that seemed to play on a loop ever since it was spoken. “Feelings?”

The necklace that Matty gifted you seemed to burn against your skin as you repeated the word back at George, you couldn’t help but wonder if the ring that matched it was still sitting on Matty’s finger or had been taken off and thrown into a drawer to be forgotten. 

George couldn’t help but scoff through a laugh. “Oh, come on, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.” Feeling less careful with his words now, thankful that Matty wasn’t around to hear what he was telling you, knowing that his friend would have his head on a platter if he had. “It’s quite painful how obvious he’s been.”

“Well, apparently everyone has, except for me.” You sigh, defeated, this conversation was starting to feel very similar to the one you were having with Carmen on her couch last night. You refused to fall back into a spiral about feelings again so soon, shaking the thoughts from your head to ask a far more pressing question. “When is he coming back?” You hated the desperation that dripped from your tone, the corners of George’s mouth twitch at the sound. “Do you know?”

“Oh, of course I know, but I can’t tell you that. ” George waves a finger, shaking his head and standing his ground. “You’ve already gotten me into enough trouble, I was told to come in and out as quickly as possible and to avoid you at all costs.” His waving finger points at your frame now, a playful glint in his eyes. “He’d kill me, if he knew you were standing in front of me right now.” His head shakes softly, running a hand through his head as he grimaces slightly. “Especially if he knew I checked you out earlier, please don’t ever mention that to him.” His brown eyes filled with worry as he emphasizes. “Ever.”

You chose to ignore the comment, fighting for your life to not spiral down the path of why Matty would even care if another man was checking you out, your mind flashing with the image of Kian’s bloody face and your heart skipping a beat at the memory. Instead you chose to narrow your eyes and focus on the first half of what the stranger had said. 

“Why would he tell you to avoid me?” George shifts on his feet at the question, defeat written on his face. 

“I don’t know, probably because he knew you’d corner me to interrogate me about shit that you’re not supposed to know.” George fixes you with a pointed look, a teasing smile twitching at his lips. “You’re very persuasive, you know? It’s all in the eyes.”

You couldn’t help the giggle that falls from your lips at that, distracting you for a second from the way your stomach flipped at the knowledge that George was a stranger to you yet he seemed to know you inside and out, having learned from the way Matty talked about you. 

“What else did he say about me?” You find yourself asking before you could stop yourself, batting your eyes in a way to try and persuade George to let more slip. “I mean, has he said anything to you about me?” Cursing yourself for the way your voice comes out a little sadder than before. “Other than to avoid me.”

“Now, you know I can’t tell you that either.” George fixes you with another pointed look, quick to break eye contact before he opens his mouth and spills about how he was sat on Matty’s couch for hours on end last night listening to his friend talk about how you had gone and flipped his entire world upside down. “Look, I know you’re upset with him, you have every right to be. But just - ” George trails off, hesitating to collect the right words before finally looking you in the eyes again. “Just don’t overthink his actions, okay?”

You felt dizzy trying to decipher if George meant the kiss or the silence that followed after, biting your bottom lip raw before circling back to your question from before, knowing that George wouldn’t be willing to tell you when Matty was coming back but you were hopeful he’d clue you in as to if he ever was.

“Is he even coming back?” Once again, you curse how desperate you sounded, but you couldn’t help it - that’s exactly how you felt. Desperate. Desperate to see him, to hear from him, to feel him again - desperate for George to give you a warning in case Sunday night was the last time you’d ever see him again.

You couldn't even stomach the thought, the internal spiral it gave you fell from your tongue before you could swallow it.

“He’s not looking for a new space to lease, is he?” After a year of wishing the tattooed boy would find anywhere else to go, you felt nauseous now at the thought of sharing a wall with anyone but him. “Just -” You pause to huff, squeezing your arms over your chest tighter. “Please tell me that he’s not running away because he hates me so much that he never wants to see me again.”

You couldn’t help but air your insecurities out, feeling more insecure now that George was laughing at you, your arms hold yourself tighter at the sound. 

“You can’t be serious.” George speaks through a laugh. “You really think -” Cutting himself off to snort, shaking his head in astonishment. “Wow, the two of you are fucking perfect for one another.” His brown eyes roll as a hand runs through his hair. “My god, this is fucking painful to witness.”

You square your shoulders to appear taller, more confident, narrowing your eyes at Matty’s friend. “What is that supposed to mean?”

George snorts through another laugh. “Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Waving you off and shaking his head softly at himself one laugh time before sighing and looking at you with a gleam in his eye, seeming as though he was trying to decide if he was about to make a mistake or not. “Look, he comes back Friday, okay? Indefinitely was just his way of being dramatic, he’ll be back soon.” You couldn’t help but feel as though a weight had been lifted off your shoulders at his words, raising an eyebrow at the brunette when he pointed a finger at you. “But don’t you dare tell him that I told you that or I’ll track you down.” He slowly lowers his finger, speaking quieter now. “If I’m even alive to do so.”

You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading over your face, a giggle tumbling from your lips at George's antics, shaking your head ever so softly. “Yeah? And do what?” You tease, giggling again when George just shrugs, you roll your eyes slightly before falling back into a more serious demeanor. “I won’t tell him anything you said, okay? As far as he knows you were in and out and avoided me at all costs.” You recite George’s phrase from earlier, the corners of his mouth twitch up slightly. “Granted, I don’t think you’d have much to worry about to begin with considering I doubt he’ll ever talk to me again.” And there it was, that sad, desperate tone that your voice had been slipping in and out of this entire time. Your shoulders slump and you couldn’t help but laugh through the pity you were giving yourself. “I feel quite pathetic.”

You weren’t quite sure why you felt so comfortable being so vulnerable with Matty’s friend, maybe it was the fact that he was by definition, a stranger. Or maybe it was because he felt like an extension of Matty himself, either way you found yourself being more truthful right now than you had been on Carmen’s couch last night. 

“You’re not.” George assure with softer eyes, feeling desperate once again to tell you all the things Matty had ever said about you, talking about you in a way that seemed as though he was reading poems from a book - but he was quick to swallow them on his tongue, having already betrayed his best friend enough for one day. “He’ll talk to you.” George promises instead, wheels already turning in his head about how he could convince Matty to get over himself and admit to you how he felt. “Just give him time to find his balls first, alright?”

You give George a small smile, grateful that the air seemed to finally reach your lungs for the first time since Matty had knocked it out of them on Sunday night. You apologize to George one last time for taking your anger for Matty out on him, giving the brunette a soft wave goodbye before leaving 102 Tattoo feeling a little more at ease than you had been coming into it. 

As you settle back into your own shop, grateful for the fact that there wasn’t a line of customers waiting on you in your absence, you couldn’t help but finally allow George’s words to wash over you, subconsciously holding onto the Tigers eye necklace through it all. Avoid, feelings, Friday. The three seemed to swirl into a never ending spiral in your mind as you stared at the clock in hopes that time would start moving faster, your eyes faltering to the calendar under the moving hands, your stomach flipping when you realized it was Tuesday. 

Just three more days. That’s all you had to live through before Matty was back in your life, well, back next door at least - but you’ll take what you can get. 

The chimes on the door sound throughout the otherwise empty space, startling you from counting down the seconds until the end of the week, turning your head in the direction of the door and smiling at the middle aged woman that walked through it. “Hi, is there anything I can help you with?”

Dropping the necklace from your grasp, ignoring the way it seemed to shock you as it fell back against your chest, drowning out the thoughts of Matty with the question that the customer in your shop was asking you. 

You helped the woman with finding her daughter a present for her fourteenth birthday, cursing your mind for immediately relating the situation back to the tattooed boy that you were trying not to think about, willing away the image of The Lovers card as you walked past the shelf of tarot decks. 

As pathetic as you felt, you couldn’t help but feel more anxious knowing the date that Matty would be back than you did not knowing if he ever would at all, huffing out of frustration as soon as the customer walked out of your shop - fighting to not glance over at the clock and rolling your eyes when they betray you, all but screaming when you see what little time had passed since the last time you had looked. 

You threw yourself into various boxes of inventory that you never finished unpacking from last time, trying not to remember the way Matty’s eyes flashed with curiosity at each new crystal he had helped you unpack, cursing when you realized that you couldn’t do anything without thinking of dark hair and tattoos. 

You felt as though you were losing your mind, gripping the box cutter in your hand a little tighter than deemed necessary as you silently prayed that these next three days didn’t feel like an eternity.  

—

“George sounds hot.” Carmen comments offhandedly from her place up on the counter, looking at you with furrowed brows when you stare back at her in astonishment. “What? He does.” Your friend holds her hands up in defense. “And while he was telling all of Matty’s business did he happen to mention if he was single or not?”

“Carmen.” You scold through a laugh, head tipping back as you let it bubble through you, thankful for the comedic relief as you catch your friend up on everything that had happened yesterday. Carmen had stopped by Seven Wonders with a bag of lunch for the two of you to share, you hadn’t even taken your first bite of the warm food before filling her in, needing to get it off of your chest before you exploded. “You don’t even know what he looks like.”

“You’re right, I don’t, because you won’t take the time to describe him to me.” Carmen rolls her eyes while taking an aggressive bite of one of her fries, you glare up at her, thankful that there were no customers in your store right now, Wednesday’s were always slow. “What? Forgive me for wanting a face to a name.” She grumbles, a playful glint in her eye as she leans forwards slightly to ask. “C’mon, on a scale of one to ten, how hot was he?”

“Carmen.” You emphasize your friend's name again, scoffing through a laugh that had your shoulders shaking along with your head. “I am not playing this game with you right now.”

“Right.” Carmen nods, you find yourself glaring at her before she could even finish the words on the tip of her tongue. “Because it would be weird for you to rate your boyfriend's best friend.” Your eyes were already rolling before she was halfway through her sentence, glaring up at her as a smile spreads on your friend's face, over the fry she was bringing to her mouth to take a bite of. “Matty probably wouldn’t be too happy about that.”

“I hate you so much sometimes.” You groan, dropping your head for a second, rubbing at your temples to ease the ache Carmen had given you. “He’s not my boyfriend.” You find yourself defending, though you knew the point was mute, after everything you had told Carmen, you knew she would never let you deflect from the situation ever again. You roll your eyes when Carmen fixes you with a pointed look. “He’s not.”

“Yet.” Carmen counters with a smug smile, leaning over to steal a fry from your own box since she had run out of her own. Your eyes roll back once more at your friends' antics, ignoring the way your stomach flipped at the idea of Matty being yours. “I mean, based on what you told me, it sounds like George was basically saying that Matty is in love with you.” Carmen shrugs, already having her mind made up, lifting her voice in a singing manner to tease you. “It's only a matter of time.”

You scoff, deflecting, as you do best. “I’m not sure what you heard that made you draw that conclusion, but I fear that you’re being delusional.” Fighting off the blush that desperately wanted to seep into your cheeks, shaking your head, your thoughts with it, not allowing yourself to be as delusional as Carmen was being - you feared if you let yourself fall down the rabbit hole of Matty having real feelings for you that you’d never make it out of there alive. “He probably won’t even talk to me when he comes back, I’m sure we’ll go right back to being strangers.” You sigh, picking at your food at this point and not actually eating it. “Maybe that’s for the best.”

Carmen had an argument on the tip of her tongue, but it dies there when the sound of chimes ring through the wind outside, her eyebrows furrowing together as she faces your front door and looks through the glass of it. She turns back around to look at you, shocked to see you as casual as you were before the sound rang out. “Was that Matty’s door? Is he back?”

You shake your head without even glancing back at the sound. “Not until Friday.” You shrug, glancing at Carmen who was staring at you as if you had grown two heads. “What?”

“You don’t even want to go check?” Carmen exasperates, her eyes wide and confused, scoffing. “It’s not like you’ve been moping around for days on end or anything.”

You sigh, pushing the box of food away from you as you lean back on your arms, shrugging. “It’s probably just George again.” Scoffing as Carmen raises an eyebrow at the mention of the boy from before. “I’m sure he’s just picking something else up for Matty.”

“Oo, then maybe I should go check.” Carmen teases, playfully biting her lip, your laughter mixing into one as you stretch your leg out to kick her softly. 

“You will not.” You scold with a roll of your eyes, ready to tease Carmen about her obsession with George but getting distracted by the sound of an engine roaring outside, your heart dropping at the sound. Because it wasn’t the sound of just any engine, no, it was too familiar for that - it had to be the sound of a motorcycle starting up. You slowly start to sit up as you focus on the sound of the faint rumbles from outside, heart racing as you realize that you only knew one person in the area who drove a motorcycle, the tattooed boy that left you stranded in the middle of his shop mere days ago. 

“Is that-”

You were hopping off the counter before Carmen could even finish her thought, all but sprinting out of Seven Wonders with a racing heart as you fling the door open and freeze on the sidewalk as your eyes land on an all too familiar leather jacket. 

His motorcycle had been parked off to the side of the road a few feet in front of 102 Tattoo, facing opposite of you but you drank in the sight of his back shamelessly anyway, running a hand through his hair before reaching down to pick up the helmet that had been resting in his lap. 

You felt frozen in place, not expecting to see him so soon, all the things you had planned on saying to him when you finally did see him again flew out of your mind as you fought to find a voice to say anything at all at this point. You only found it when Matty started to bring the helmet up towards his head, knowing that he was about to leave and you were about to miss your chance. 

“Matty!” You yell his name like it was a lifeline, swallowing the lump in your throat when you see Matty freeze at the sound of your voice echoing through the wind, down the sidewalk and up the back of his neck. 

You were hoping he’d turn around to look at you, even for just a second. Maybe he’d linger for you to walk over to him so the two of you could finally talk. Or maybe he’d even turn his motorcycle off and run over to you, picking back up when the two of you had left off on Sunday night.

You begged for Matty to do anything. 

Anything but what he was doing now, quickly pulling his helmet on the rest of the way over his head, kicking the stand of his motorcycle up before revving his bike once and driving off. 

Without even taking one glance at you.

Your heart drops down to the cement under your shoes as Matty’s motorcycle disappears over the hill, doing anything and everything that you could do to not let the tears that threatened to pool in your eyes fall, you refused to cry - refused to let him win. 

You stay glued to your spot on the sidewalk for what feels like an eternity, slowly turning around to go back into Seven Wonders when the sight of a still burning cigarette dropped to the sidewalk between your two shops catches your eye. The anger that boils inside of you is almost instant, spreading throughout your veins and relighting all of the fire that had subsided over the past few days. 

He couldn’t even be bothered to stomp out the carcass, the faint smoke that fell from the barely burning tip almost mocking you as you stare at the cigarette on the concrete, almost considering that your stare might have been what was making the cigarette still burn. 

You force your eyes away from the sight before you in fear that you might actually explode if you stared at it for a second longer, glancing up to send the heat behind your eyes towards the tattoo shop, your eyebrows coming together in confusion when you see a new sign taped outside of his door - forgetting that you had ripped down and crumpled his other one. 

Your feet were carrying you over in front of his door without a second thought, eyes flying over the white sheet of paper full of familiar handwriting, your aching heart racing against your rib cage.

shop closed. sorry for the inconvenience. to reschedule your appointment, please call this number. see you soon - matty

You couldn’t help but find the similarities in his first note to this one, your eyes fixated on the subtle differences - the removal of indefinitely, the addition of soon, the fact that you couldn't help but feel as though the see you soon - matty was directed at you. 

You reach out to rip the note off of the wall, hesitating when you grab the edge of the paper, dropping it as if it had burned you before storming over to the door of Seven Wonders, swinging it open enough for Carmen to hear you. “Come here.”

It didn’t take long for Carmen to hop off the counter, quick to join you outside on the sidewalk with curious eyes. “Was it Matty?”

Hearing his name has your jaw clenching, ignoring her question in favor of pointing to the sign on the door of 102 Tattoo. “Call this number.”

Carmen looks over at the note on the door with eyebrows pulled together, her eyes quick to scan over Matty’s handwriting, her face more puzzled than before as she turns back to look at you. “Why would I call Matty’s work number?” Taking in the sight of your clenched jaw and slightly red eyes, the concern on her face grew rapidly. “What’s going on? What happened? Did he say something to you?”

“No.” Your heart cracks a little at the admission. “He didn’t say anything to me, didn’t even look at me, that’s the issue.” You couldn’t help but find the similarities in your conversation now to the one you and Carmen had shared on her couch after Matty had kissed you. Your voice was as tight as your throat felt. “Call him.”

Carmen hesitates, trying to find the right thing to say, not wanting to upset you any further. “What am I supposed to do when I call him?” Her voice is soft, careful, calculated. “You want me to go the fuck off on him? Or what are you wanting me to do here?” Her eyebrows twitch before coming together. “Because I’ll happily do that if that’s what you want me to do, I’m just confused as to why you wouldn't rather do that yourself?”

And while the idea of calling Matty to scream at him was tempting, it wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want to fight with him, not anymore, you just wanted to talk with him and understand why he ran away - why he even kissed you in the first place. But that was proving quite difficult to do when he was making it his mission to avoid you at all costs. Well, you weren’t going to let him get away with it that easy, you would get Matty to talk to you - if it was the last thing you did. 

“I’m going to make an appointment with him.” You explain, ignoring the way Carmen’s eyes grow wider at your words. “For a tattoo.” Carmen says your name in a way that conveyed how unsure she was about this idea but you wave it off, standing your ground. “He can’t ignore me forever.” Carmen opened her mouth to speak but you were quick to talk over her, not wanting to hear what she had to say unless she was agreeing with you. “Look, I already have a tattoo I’ve been wanting to get for ages now, I just never wanted to ask him to do it because I was scared he would fuck it up on purpose just to be a dick.” You explain, watching Carmen pull her phone out of her pocket. “But now I’m not so sure how he feels and it’s killing me, I-I have to know.”

“Okay.” Carmen huffs, nodding her head, smiling at you softly. “Okay.” She repeats, more confident now. ”As long as you’re sure about this then I stand behind you.” You shoot her a small smile back at her. “But I still don’t understand why I’m the one calling though?”

You huff, rolling your eyes. “He’ll know my voice.” Having already been caught and you didn’t quite feel like reliving it. “He’ll hang up on me, so I need you to call and pretend to be me.” Shaking your head softly before correcting yourself. “Someone. He’s barely talked to you, I don’t think he’ll recognize your voice.”

Carmen nods, glancing back and forth between the sign on the door and the keypad on her phone screen, about to hit the call button before stopping herself. “Wait, didn’t you say he just left?” You nod slowly. “He’s not going to answer if he’s driving.”

And while you knew Carmen was right, you found yourself shrugging, needing to do this now before you grew too scared. “I don’t care, call him.”

Carmen sighs, dialing the number on the note written on the door, holding the phone up to her ear and tapping her foot while it rang and rang and rang. “Hi.” Your head shoots up at Carmen’s voice, ready to whisper for her to put it on speaker phone but you didn’t have the time before she started talking again. “I’m just calling about a tattoo appointment.” Carmen’s eyes searching yours in a panic to try and figure out what to say, shrugging to you before finishing. “Please call me back when you can?” Shaking her head softly as she pulls the phone away to hang up, sighing. “It went to voicemail.”

You groan, throwing your hands over your face out of frustration, so sick and tired of waiting on him. You trudge your way back into Seven Wonders with a promise from Carmen that he would surely call back soon. Your stomach rolls with nausea at the word, immediately thinking back to the soon etched in the tattooed boy's handwriting on the sign outside. You were too impatient for soon, you wanted Matty now. 

Almost as if the universe was dead set on teaching you patience, soon turned out to feel like an eternity, minutes dragged on like hours as you waited for Matty to call back. You fought not to roll your eyes at every customer that entered your store, cursing the fact that you hadn’t been busy all day and now of course you would be, helping out each person as quickly as possible so you and Carmen could be alone when he called - wanting to be able to eavesdrop on their phone call when it happened. 

You were in the middle of handing a customer their bag full of crystals when you heard Carmen gasp from across the store, your heart immediately started to race before even being told why she had, already knowing the reason deep down.

You glance over at Carmen to see her holding her phone up, pointing at the screen that had a familiar number flashing on it. You politely usher the customer out of the store, thanking them for their purchases with an overly bright smile, opening the door for them and waving them off before quickly shutting the glass door and locking it - switching the sign on the door to closed for extra measure. 

“It’s Matty.” Carmen explained, though you already knew, jogging back over to the counter where she had already hopped up on, mirroring her as you speak through a rushed panic. 

“Answer it!” Your heart pounded against your rib cage so intensely that you feared it might burst out, quick to rush out. “Put it on speaker.”

Carmen nods, sliding the answer button before quickly clicking the button to turn the speakerphone on, clearing her throat of any nerves that had settled there before speaking softly into the phone. “Hello?” 

You held your breath as you waited for Matty to speak, desperate to hear his voice, scared to even miss one syllable of his response. 

“Hello?” His accent was thick, tired, sounding nearly the same as he had the other day when you had called him. “Yeah, this is Matty at 102 Tattoo, I had a voicemail from this number, so I was just reaching back out like you asked.” Carmen glances at you in hopes that you had a response lined out for her, not sure what to say to that, the two of you were thankful when Matty filled the space instead. “I’m sorry if you had an appointment today and weren’t aware that I’ve been out of the shop, I had a sign on my door but I guess it got taken down.”

Your heart drops at Matty’s words, feeling as though he was speaking directly to you even though, in reality, he had no clue who was on the other end of the call. Carmen glances over at you with a pointed look that you raise your hands in defense at, she rolls her eyes playfully before realizing that she had missed something Matty had said and  he was waiting for a response, clearing her throat once more before finally speaking up. “I’m sorry, what?”

You grimace, hoping Matty wouldn’t hang up out of annoyance, your heart fluttering at the sound of him laughing softly. 

“I asked if you were rescheduling an already existing appointment or reaching out to make a new one.” You could hear him shuffling behind the phone, desperate to know what he was up to, clinging onto his every word. You felt pathetic. Maybe you were. 

“Oh, um, trying to make an appointment.” Carmen nods as if he could see her, quickly adding on for clarification. “For a tattoo.”

You reach out to softly hit her leg, she waves you off and Matty chuckles softly as if he could see the whole scene playing out. “Yeah, okay, I can do that for you.” More shuffling sounds through the speaker of the phone, clear to you now that he was searching for a client sheet that he normally had people fill out when making an appointment, you vaguely remembered seeing Kian’s before he gave it back to Matty. “What are you wanting to get done?”

Your stomach drops as quickly as Carmen’s eyes widen, the one topic that the two of you had forgotten to talk about and it was arguably the most important one. You were quick to grab your phone, scrolling through your camera in search of your reference photo as Carmen stumbled through her words. 

“Sorry, just one second.” She forces through a laugh, moving her hand in a way that conveyed for you to hurry up, grimacing at the silence that came from the other side of the phone. You felt relief wash over you when you finally find the picture, quick to click on the drawing you had and turn your phone around for Carmen to see. She squints at the picture before explaining. “A butterfly.” You were quick to shake your head, your hands with it. “No, sorry.” She stumbles, eyes wide as she motions for you to hurry up once more. You mouth what the drawing is to her quickly as she’s just as fast to correct herself. “A dragonfly?” You hold up a thumb and nod, Carmen speaks more confidently now. “Yes, a dragonfly. That’s what I’m wanting.”

You drop your forehead down into your hand, rolling your eyes as Carmen mouths ‘that’s not what that looks like’ to you, you flip her off before focusing on the way that Matty laughs softly once more. Your heart skips a beat at the sound, wishing that it was you drawing it out of him. 

“You sure?” Matty teases, smiling to yourself as you could hear the pen moving across paper on the other end of the phone. “Alright, where are you wanting it?”

Carmen glances over at you, eyes widening when you point down to your stomach. “Oh shit, really?” She mumbles before realizing she had just voiced that aloud, clearing her throat from a laugh before speaking. “My stomach.” Your head fully drops down into both hands now, hiding your face from the shit show that this phone call was slowly turning into, thinking that now it might have been a better option for you to put on a fake accent and call him yourself. “I want a dragonfly on my stomach.” She repeats, once again adding on for clarification. “My lower stomach.”

You glance at Carmen through your fingers, rolling your eyes when she shoots you a thumbs up in return. 

“Okay.” Matty mumbles, more sounds of pen to paper fill the void before he’s speaking up once again. “This isn’t your first tattoo or anything, right? That spot is quite painful and I’d only feel comfortable doing that with someone who has experience.”

Thrill shoots up your spine at his words, Carmen reaches out to hit you softly as if she could read your mind, coughing through a laugh as she shakes her head before realizing that the tattoo artist couldn’t see her. “No, no, not my first tattoo.” Her eyes scan over the various tattoos scattered on your skin. “I have a few.” 

“Alright, perfect.” Matty mumbles, you could almost hear the smile in his voice, more shuffling behind the phone. “I actually had someone cancel on me this morning, so I have Friday open if you’re free? At noon?”

Carmen glances over at you for confirmation, you knew it would be irresponsible for you to close up shop for a day, but the idea of waiting any longer to be alone with Matty had you feeling nauseous, you found yourself nodding before you could dwell on the thought too much. If Matty could close for nearly a week, then you could sacrifice one day. 

“Yeah, that works for me.” Carmen confirms, reaching out to give you a soft high five, feeling thankful that she was all but done with the phone call and it had ended successfully. “Thank you so much.”

“Yeah, of course.” Matty replies, sniffing. “Hey, who’s getting this done? So I can write you down on the schedule?”

“Jewels.” Carmen replies easily, not even thinking twice about it, her jaw dropping as fast as your heart does when she realizes what she had just said - covering her mouth with wide eyes as your head falls back into your hands. 

Matty is silent for a beat, all you could hear was the ringing in your ears as your heart pounds against your rib cage, holding your breath as you anticipate what he might say next. He laughs, but it's strained, you could almost hear the way his eyebrows furrow as he finally speaks. “Excuse me?”

You lift your head from your hands, desperately waving them at her in an attempt to tell her to come up with something, anything to pull you out of this hole. “Yeah, that’s J-u-l-e-s, Jules.” Carmen held her breath, hopeful that he wouldn't ask for a last name, your stomach dropped at the sound of Matty laughing easily now - breathless and almost relieved. “What’s so funny?” Carmen asks before she could stop herself, holding her hands in defense when you reach out to smack her. 

“Nothing,” Matty huffs out a laugh. “just reminded me of someone, that’s all.” You and Carmen stare at each other with wide eyes. “Alright, Jules, well I will see you on Friday, yeah?” You suddenly felt rather dizzy, finally realizing the situation you had gotten yourself into when you heard Matty saying the nickname he had given you yet in a different context, clear that even though he had thought about you for a split second, he wasn’t expecting to see you on Friday. “Make sure to eat something before you come, alright? Don’t need you passing out on me.”

Your heart warms at the concern in his voice, even if it wasn’t necessarily for you. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to do that.” Carmen assures, glancing over at you to see if there was anything else you needed her to say before she ended the phone call. “Thanks again for squeezing me in so soon, I’ll see you Friday.”

“Yeah, of course.” And once again, you could hear the smile in Matty’s voice, hopeful that you would be able to see it in person on Friday. “Bye, Jules.”

Your stomach flips at the nickname still even though you know that’s not how he meant it, fighting off a pout as Carmen returns the sentiment before finally hanging up the phone, you didn’t even let her lock her phone before you were speaking up for the first time in ages. 

“Jewels?” You stare at your friend in astonishment, shaking your head softly. “Really?”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” Carmen apologizes, shrugging. “But I was quite quick on my feet, don’t you think? I mean, Jules was a pretty nice save.” Scoffing when you roll your eyes at her. “Alright, let’s talk about you, Mrs. Stomach Tattoo.” You groan as soon as the words leave her mouth, you knew this conversation was bound to happen, already shaking your head before she could even start in on you. “Are you sure you’re going in there to talk to Matty or to seduce him?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You grumble, rolling your eyes. “I’ve been wanting this tattoo for ages.”

“So why did you evade the question?” Carmen points out with a satisfied smile, throwing her head back in laughter as you flip her off for the second time that night. “Don’t forget to eat or put your lingerie on first, I guess.”

“Fuck off.” You groan through a laugh, reaching out to push her off of the counter of your shop. “Get out, I’ve heard enough from you for one day.” You tease, shaking your head at your friend as your stomach swirled at the idea. “I’m only going in there for a tattoo and the hope that he’ll actually talk to me.”

“Right.” Carmen nods, a smile twitching at her lips. “I’ll make sure to call you on Saturday to hear all about the long and hard details of your talk.” Finishing off her emphasized words and dramatics with air quotes around the last word. 

“Go!” You scoff through a laugh, pointing at the front door. “I assure you that I will be on my best behavior on Friday.”

You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth, more so now that Carmen was fixing you with a pointed look and a raised brow. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you will be.” Giggling when you just groan in response and point at the door yet again. “I’m leaving, I’m leaving.” Hands held up in defense as she grabs her purse from wherever she had thrown it when she first walked in, pulling you in for a hug before making her way over to the door, swinging it open and hesitating before turning to look at you over her shoulder, winking. “You should wear the black set that you ordered a few months ago, you know that’s his favorite color.”

“Goodbye, Carmen.” You emphasize with a wave, laughing to yourself when Carmen finally leaves after blowing you a playful kiss, all alone in your shop now, the realization of what you had gotten yourself into had slowly started to crash down on you the longer the silence consumed you. 

You felt your stomach churn with nausea and you weren’t quite sure if it was from the nerves of what Matty’s reaction would be when he sees you walk into 102 Tattoo and not some random girl named Jules or if it was from the impending pain that the area would soon endure from the needle of his tattoo gun. 

Your hand comes up to hold your stomach on instinct, swallowing down the lump in your throat as you tried to focus on the fact that you were finally getting the tattoo done after wanting it for all this time and that pain was temporary.

Just two more days. That’s all you had to live through before Matty’s hands were back on you, well, for the purpose of tattooing you, that is - but you’ll take what you can get. 

—

Matty hummed what he could remember of some song he had probably heard from Poppy’s playlist as he walked down the sidewalk on his way toward 102 Tattoo, nerves settled in his stomach that he tried to ignore, already on his fourth cigarette of the day when it was only ten in the morning. 

He regretted not getting a coffee with each step closer he got to his building, heavy eyelids that begged to close and get some rest, something he hasn’t been able to do since Sunday.

Every time he closed his eyes he was plagued with the image of Kian’s blood washing down the sink, the tears in your eyes as you screamed at him, the way your lips felt pressed against his own, the way you tasted - Matty couldn’t catch a break.

You were his every waking thought and what kept him tossing and turning during the night, he felt as though he was going a bit mad, the memory of him leaving you all alone in his shop without even a second glance played on his mind on a constant loop, regret washing over his veins with each view. 

Matty sighs as it washes over him now, knowing it was only a matter of time before he would see you, he couldn’t avoid you forever, try as he might. His skin itched with the desire to see you, only having the memory of your face to live off of for the past week, he was starting to forget the smell of your shampoo. 

The street he walked along started to grow more and more familiar and soon he could see his shop in front of him, swallowing the lump in his throat as he gives a quick glance over to Seven Wonders before quickly sliding his key in the door and entering 102 Tattoo - too quick of a glance to see the closed sign on your door. 

He throws his keys into the bowl he kept by the door without even needing to look, second nature to him, turning on the lights and taking a second to breathe it all in. It looked the same as he had left it, of course it did, only you weren’t left standing in the middle of it now. He was almost disappointed at the fact, thinking that maybe time really had stood still when your lips touched and you had been frozen in place, waiting for his return. 

Matty huffs, shaking his head at himself before forcing himself to be in work mode, knowing that he had an appointment coming up at noon and he needed to start getting set up for it.

He starts by pulling his iPad out of the shelf he kept it stored in, walking it over to his desk and sitting down to start drawing up the tattoo he had scheduled for that afternoon, glancing over at the reference pic that the girl had texted him previously. He worked in silence, driving him crazy, but he hesitated to turn his music on in fear that it would alert you of his presence and he wasn’t quite sure if he was ready to face you just yet. 

Though as the drawing started to take more shape, Matty grew more frustrated, shaky lines that he cursed at and had to redo a hundred times - glancing up at the clock more than the reference picture at this point. His leg was shaking under the desk, nerves starting to get the better of him as the sound of the clock ticking echoed in his mind, almost mocking him. 

While he had said that he wasn’t ready to face you just yet, he didn’t think it would take this long for him to, Matty knew that you knew he was here - George had slipped up and confessed that he had clued you in. So where were you? Why weren’t you in here screaming at him? Calling him a dick for kissing you with such passion then leaving you stranded in the middle of his shop? Did you just not care about him anymore? 

Matty throws his Apple Pen down onto the desk and falls back against the chair in frustration, running his hands through his hair before scrubbing his face with them, desperate to get you out of his mind so he could focus on the task at hand. 

And while he had just decided against playing music, knowing that it would most likely lure you over, he found himself reaching for his phone and pulling up his usual playlist - though not playing the music nearly as loud as he normally did just to get a rise out of you, just loud enough to drown out the mocking ticks of the clock that reminded him of every minute you waited to come over to see him. 

And if the sound of his music ended up luring you over, then so be it. 

He rubbed at his temples as the music started to fill the empty space of 102 Tattoo, taking in a deep breath and holding it for three seconds before releasing it quickly, cracking his neck from side to side before picking his Apple Pen back up and resuming the sketch of the tattoo on his iPad. 

He worked more diligently now, finishing up the rest of the tattoo design in half the time that the lines he had done over a hundred times took him, staring down at the dragonfly while tilting his head to make sure the picture was perfect before nodding and sending it off to his printer. He left the dragonfly to sit in the printer amongst other blank pages until his appointment arrived, wanting to ensure that the client loved what he had come up with before making the stencil. 

Matty glances over at the clock again, seeing that it was a little past eleven now, knowing that his client would arrive shortly and you still hadn’t. Matty’s jaw ticks, walking over to the chair in the middle of the room so he could start sterilizing the surface, wiping down the black leather much rougher than normal - taking out the frustration he felt for you with the cleaning products. 

He knew he was acting pathetic, but in his defense, he thought he would have already been two fights deep with you at this point, so for him to have not seen you at all had him feeling as though he was about to explode. 

Where the hell were you?

—

Your head rested against your steering wheel as you took in deep breaths, trying to calm your nerves that had been settled in your stomach since Carmen had gotten off the phone with Matty.

You weren’t quite sure what you were more nervous about - the tattoo itself or seeing Matty. Sure, this wasn't your first tattoo, you had several scattered along various parts of your body, but this was going to be your biggest and for sure the most painful. You take a swig of water from the stainless steel bottle resting in your cup holder to swallow down the nausea, reminding yourself that pain was only temporary and that you were in good hands. 

Great hands, tattooed hands that would burn heavenly against your own skin as they inflict pain upon you, your thighs clench at the thought - hitting your head against the steering wheel softly on a loop to try and will the images out from your mind. 

You glance over at the time on your dashboard, swallowing down another roll of nausea as you realize that you should probably start heading over to 102 Tattoo and face the boy that has been plaguing your mind for days on end. You sigh as you pull your car keys from the ignition, glancing at yourself one last time in the rear view mirror before grabbing all of your belongings and climbing out of the car. 

Walking down the all too familiar sidewalk, past buildings you have seen a million times, you couldn’t help but feel out of place - knowing that Seven Wonders was not your destination for the day. The nerves settled in your stomach seemed to climb up your throat with each step closer you took towards 102 Tattoo, feeling rather dizzy when the shop came into sight. 

You were already nervous enough about what Matty would do when he sees you for the first time, but you were terrified of what he might do when he realizes that you are his appointment for the day.

Would he act as if nothing had happened between the two of you and fall back into your old dynamic or would he give you the cold shoulder as he had been doing for the past few days? Would he even talk to you during the appointment or would he throw you out and refuse to even tattoo you?

You shake that thought from your mind as quickly as it enters it, not able to stomach the idea.

All the thoughts and questions whirling around in your mind would soon get an answer, you just hoped it was one you liked, standing in front of the door to 102 Tattoo and swallowing down the bile that threatened to climb your throat as you reach out to grab the handle of the door, hesitating to take one last deep breath before pulling the door open. 

The chimes at the top of his door ring out throughout the shop as you enter the space, mixing with the sound of his music playing through the speaker on the wall, much quieter than normal you note. Your eyes fall to him almost immediately, of course they do, stuck standing in the entryway of his shop as the door closes behind you. 

Your tongue immediately felt dry at the sight of him, the black leather jacket thrown over his back that faced you, the black denim that clung to the long stretch of his legs, the way his back flexed as he sorted through papers on the counter in front of you. You had seen the back of his body two days ago, so you weren’t quite sure why the sight of it had you so worked up now, maybe it was because you could actually smell his cologne mixed with cigarette smoke this time, the scent was intoxicating and had your stomach flipping. 

“Took you long enough.” Matty mumbles to himself, not even having to turn around to know who had just walked into his building, always seeming to know when you were near. He racked his brain in desperation to find something to say to you, anything, knowing that his time avoiding you was up. He clears his throat, shuffling through papers as he speaks a little louder, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“I was just thinking about you.” You hated the way your heart skipped a beat at the admission, his back still turned to you as he says. “You need something?”

He grimaced as soon as the words left his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut out of frustration with himself for always seeming to say the wrong things, he didn’t have to face you to know that you were probably glaring at him - he could feel the heat from your gaze burning against his back. 

You had to stop yourself from laughing at his question, did you need something? Oh, did you. Maybe an explanation as to why he had run out on you, an apology for avoiding you for the past week, or even just a simple hello because despite the fact that you were so angry at him for all of these things, you couldn’t help the way your chest ached for him to just to acknowledge you. 

You bite back all of these thoughts, shifting on your feet that seemed to be glued to your spot, your voice as breathless as you felt. “Hi.” 

You grimace as soon as the word leaves your mouth, all this waiting, all the planning of what you were going to say to him when you finally saw him again and all you could come up with was a pitiful greeting. 

“You’re back.” You felt silly for stating the obvious, but you couldn't help it, part of you was convinced that Matty would cancel at the last minute and disappear for another week. You couldn't help but think of how that most likely would have been the outcome if he had known it was you who was scheduled into his calendar right now. 

“You knew I would be.” Matty comments offhandedly, still refusing to turn around. “George told you, no?” 

Your stomach drops at the fact that Matty knew about your conversation with his friend, despite how many times the brunette had made you promise not to tell. Your mind whirled with the possibilities of what else George had told him, your legs suddenly didn’t feel as strong as before. 

Matty continues to filter through papers, not even for any real purpose, just as a way to stop himself from turning around to face you because he knew the second he looked at you, he would no longer have any ground to stand on. “Look, I’m really busy right now, can you come back later?”

Matty knew that the two of you needed to talk, he dreaded the conversation, never one to face his feelings - but he didn’t want to get into the conversation when a client would be walking into the middle of it sooner rather than later. 

You scoff through a laugh, you couldn’t help it, rolling your eyes as you watch the tattooed boy flip through the same four pages on an endless loop. “Yeah, you sure look like it.”

You couldn’t help the sarcasm that drips from your tongue, almost second nature when you’re around him. You watch his shoulders deflate slightly from being caught, sighing as he glances over at the clock. “I have an appointment at noon, alright?” Your stomach drops. “I’m about to be busy.”

You pull at a loose thread on your tote bag, heart pounding against your rib cage as you try and find a way to tell him that you were actually his appointment for noon, incredibly nervous of what he was going to do when you spoke up. 

“Yeah.” Your voice was barely heard over the music filtering throughout his shop. “I know, I-I’m sorry, I’m a little bit early.”

You hold your breath as Matty freezes, shifting on your feet as you watch his every move carefully, thankful that you seemed to be glued to the entryway of 102 Tattoo so he couldn't run out of it this time. 

Matty takes a deep breath, holding it for a beat before slowly turning around to face you for the first time since you were screaming at him on Sunday, his heart clenches at the sight while yours races to beat out of your chest, breath hitching at the sight of one another after days that seemed to drag by like a lifetime.

“What are you talking about, Jewels - Y/N.” He was quick to correct himself, your stomach churning at the memory of you screaming at him to not call you by the nickname anymore, as soon it fell from his lips, his furrowed eyebrows full of confusion softened into realization as he repeated the name in a different light. “Jules.” Spoken through a scoff of laughter, you could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he crossed his arms over his chest, his dark eyes squinting, opening his mouth to say something yet hesitating to find the right words. “That wasn’t you on the phone the other day.” Matty accuses, shaking his head softly as he tries to wrack his brain into understanding what was going on. “I know your voice and that wasn’t you.”

You try to ignore the way your heart fluttered at his admission, at the fact that he knew you so well. You shift your weight between your feet once more, feeling more exposed now that his dark eyes were fixated on you. You finally admit through a meek tone, shrugging softly. “Carmen called for me.”

“Carmen -” Matty scoffs, cutting himself off to laugh, rubbing a hand across his chin as he shakes his head. “You had your friend call me to make an appointment for you?” His voice steadily grew in anger and only had the same feeling bubbling in your veins. “Too pussy to do it yourself?”

“You wouldn’t have scheduled me if I had been the one to call.” You spat back at him, annoyed that you had been in his presence for less than ten minutes and he had already managed to make your skin crawl, making you wonder why you even missed him at all. “You would have just hung up on me like you did before.”

Matty’s jaw ticks, ignoring the second half of what you had said in favor of capitalizing on the former. “I almost wouldn’t have been able to schedule you, or anyone for that matter, at all considering someone ripped my sign off the door.” You roll your eyes before he can even ask. “You have something you’d like to confess?”

“I was pissed at you!” The five words explode out of you, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. “You left without a single word and then next thing I know there’s a fucking note on the door talking about your shop being closed indefinitely.” The words spit off your tongue with as much malice as you felt. “So yeah, I ripped it off the door, excuse me for being upset.” You huff, watching the way Matty’s eyes fall to the floor and flash with something unknown. “But I think I had every right to be.”

“Well, I-” Matty starts but quickly shuts his mouth to stop himself, shaking his head as if he was about to let something slip, scoffing to himself. “Forget it.”

You groan, running a hand over your face, rooted to your place in front of the door so he couldn’t even consider an escape plan. 

“Fuck, I didn’t come here to fight with you, Matty.” His heart clenches as his name falls from your lips. “I’m sorry that I went about things in the way I did, but I knew that this was the only way to get you to talk to me.” You confess with a softer tone, the anger coursing through your veins slowly overruled by the nerves returning. “So, please, just-” You couldn’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed as you all but beg. “Talk to me.” 

Silence lingered in the air for a beat, the nerves in your veins climbed up your throat with each passing second, you hated this newfound tension between the two of you - would do anything to swap it out for the old dynamic full of annoyance and petty arguments. 

“We don’t even have to talk about it, okay?” Your voice is even softer now, nervous and unsure - hopeful that he knew you were referring to the kiss. You were sure he did by the way he shifts on his feet. “We can just pretend like it never happened.” You offer, though the thought kills you, you couldn’t think of anything you wanted less than to pretend like you didn’t know what his lips felt like against your own. But the longer that Matty’s eyes stayed on the floor, the longer he remained silent, you found yourself getting more desperate for things to just be okay between the two of you. “Please, I just-” You hesitate, shifting your own eyes to the floor as you admit. “I’ve missed you.”

The silence in the tattoo shop consumes you, eating you alive, making you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole to save you from embarrassment. You watch Matty closely, hyper fixated on his every move, fearful that you had said too much. 

You considered turning around and leaving the shop, feeling as though that might be better than to stand here in hopes that he would throw you a bone, but almost as soon as the thought crosses your mind, Matty buries it. 

“Okay.” Matty mumbles and you can nearly feel the way your heart cracks just the tiniest bit, you had just basically poured your heart out to him and all he could say in return was okay? You could feel the anger bubbling in your veins, malicious words forming on the tip of your tongue and ready to fire, though Matty extinguishes the flames. 

“I’ve missed you too.” The four words knock all the air from your lungs, the soft spoken tone of his voice had your heart skipping a beat, allowing the butterflies to swarm in your stomach freely for once in your life, unashamed. His head slowly lifts up, dark eyes immediately finding home against yours. “And I’m sorry for leaving you in the dark for so long.”

And he leaves it at that, determined to follow your request of forgetting about what happened between the two of you, which would be much easier said than done if you weren’t standing in front of him right now. You smile softly at his apology, such a rare thing to hear from the tattooed boy, easily falling right back into your usual dynamic as Matty’s lips twitch up in a teasing way. “You really made a tattoo appointment just to talk to me?”

“Fuck off.” You roll your eyes, feet suddenly unglued to the floor and able to carry you further into the shop. “Well, that and to actually get the tattoo done.” Matty hums, leaning back against his counter as he watches the way you walk over to him, eyebrows furrowing together at the sight of you holding a plastic cup out to him. “I got you a coffee, your favorite.”

You smile softly, shaking the ice against the cup to entice him to take it, unable to ignore the similarities of the time he had apologized to you with a coffee of your own. Matty takes the cup with curious eyes, leaning down to smell it, you roll your eyes at his antics. 

“Kian didn’t make it, I promise.” Matty’s hands grip the plastic cup a little tighter now. “In fact it might be shit, it’s from a new place I saw on the drive over here, I’ve never tried it.” 

Matty hums, glancing down at the coffee in his hand, opening his mouth to speak but hesitating, swirling the liquid around in the cup as the image of his bloody knuckles burns at the forefront of his mind. “Yeah, well, while we're on the topic of not talking about things, can he be one of them?”

You nod quickly, all but begging. “Please.”

Matty nods along, swirling the coffee around in the cup once more before glancing up at you, tipping his head to the side in playful curiosity. “You didn’t poison this, did you?” You giggle, your shoulders shaking alongside your head, his dark eyes squint ever so slightly. “So why don’t you have one, then? Scared to mix the two up?”

You snort, rolling your eyes, holding up your stainless steel water bottle for him to see. “Water for myself, I gotta stay hydrated and all that.”

Matty hums, finally leaning down to take his first sip of the coffee you had ordered him, his eyes widening in surprise as the flavor hit his tongue. “Fuck, that’s actually quite good.” He mumbles, already going in for another sip, watching the way you opened the cap of your metal bottle and took a sip of your rather boring drink. He swallows, tipping his head at you. “It’s good to see you drinking water before I blast your stomach.” Matty cringes at his choice of wording, your head tipping back in laughter at the sight, his head shakes softly. “Alright, and with that, we should probably get started.” You nod, watching the way he turns to the side to set his coffee down on the counter before pushing himself off of it and making his way to the other end of his shop, calling out to you over his shoulder. “Have you eaten?”

“Yeah, I ate right before I drove over here.” You linger in the space you were in before, unsure if you were supposed to follow him or not. 

“Perfect.” Matty gleams and you all but preen, he glances at you over his shoulder before tipping his head. “You wanna come over here and see what I came up with, make sure you like it?” You nod, quick to walk across the shop to be next to him, glancing over at the piece of paper he was holding out for you, you gasp at the sight and his mouth twitches up at the sound. “It’s good?” 

“It’s perfect.” You assure, glancing up at him with eyes that you were sure gleamed. Matty cleared his throat at the sight, quick to look away from you and busy himself with the process of actually setting up the tattoo stencil now that he had your approval. 

You cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to bring some warmth to your body. You had chosen to wear a cropped tank top today, wanting to make the process of Matty tattooing your stomach as easy as possible, wearing a normal shirt seemed silly to you - you regretted that decision now that goosebumps had started to appear on your arms. 

Matty glances over at you, his dark eyes scanning your frame. “You cold?” You hated the way two simple words had your stomach flipping, the knowledge that Matty was so in tune with you had you feeling rather lightheaded. “I can turn the air off if you need.”

"No, I'm okay, really.” You wave him off. “It feels good in here." You lied straight through your teeth and Matty saw right through you, of course he did, cocking his head to the side to give you a pointed look before walking towards the direction of where you could only assume the thermostat was - proven right when within a minute the sounds of the air conditioner running was cut off, your body practically screams in relief as you fought off a smile on your face. “Thank you.”

Matty shoots you a soft smile, tilting his head over towards the tattoo chair in the middle of the room. “You can go take a seat, if you’d like, I just gotta get everything set up and I’ll be right over.” You nod, adjusting the strap of your tote bag over your shoulder as you turn to make your way over to the black leather chair in the middle of the room. “You can set your stuff down wherever, just make yourself at home.”

Home. You quite liked the sound of that. 

You toss your tote bag up on his desk that was scattered with various paperwork and unfinished drawings, you pause to look at some of them, not noticing the way Matty was watching you out of the corner of his eye, fighting off a smile of his own. You leave everything sitting on top of his desk except your metal bottle full of water, carrying that over across the shop with you until you reach the black chair that would serve as your home for the next couple of hours. 

You start to settle onto the leather, grateful that Matty had his back turned towards you, it was always an awkward process to climb onto these things. You find a comfortable position to sit in, reaching into your pocket for your phone and sighing when you realize that you had left it in your tote bag sitting on his desk, busying yourself by taking in all of the decor on the walls instead. 

You had never really looked around his space before, typically when you came in here it was for the purpose of yelling at Matty for something you’d forget about by the end of the day, leaving as soon as he crawled under your skin. You never had the time to actually sit down and take everything in. 

Your eyes scan over the dark walls of the tattoo shop, entranced by all of the drawings with Matty’s signature at the bottom, making mental notes of the vinyl covers he had hung up on the wall, the random trinkets on display on the shelves, smiling at how everything in this space just screamed Matty - almost as if you were catching a glimpse of the inside of his mind. 

“Here.” Matty’s voice pulls you out of your daydream, glancing over to see him holding out something for you to grab, your eyebrows pulled together at the pack of animal crackers he was offering. “I know you said that you had eaten, but I figured I’d grab you a snack so you don’t end up getting sick on me.” As hard as you tried to fight it, a flush of pink washes over your cheeks at his concern for you, trying to convince yourself that he was probably this way with all of his clients. “And an extra bottle of water just in case you run out.”

“Thank you.” You accept the animal crackers with a soft smile, watching as Matty leans over to rest the extra bottle of water and the stencil of your tattoo down on a small side table next to the tattoo chair, you follow his lead and toss the animal crackers up beside it. 

Matty nods, pulling his phone from his back pocket and typing his pass code in while glancing over at you. “Got any requests?”

You were sure the confusion on your face was as evident as it felt, taking a moment to realize that he was asking about the music playing throughout the speakers. “Oh, no, I like pretty much anything.” The confusion on your face lingers, trying to think back on the music you had heard him playing before through the walls and fairly positive that it was a set playlist he had created, considering you could probably sing half of them despite not knowing the title or the artist. “Since when do you let the client choose the music?”

Matty evades the question by turning on Tame Impala’s Currents album, recalling the way you had been playing it the night he helped you with inventory, raising the volume one degree before tossing his phone down on the table that he had set everything else on.

The flush on your cheeks deepen as the beginning chords of Let it Happen sound throughout the shop, fighting off the feeling of butterflies that threaten to fly around in your stomach.

So what if he knew your coffee order or the sound of your voice or one of your favorite albums - it’s not like it meant anything, right?

“Alright, stencil time.” Matty claps, rubbing his hands together before pulling his leather jacket off of his arms, you swallow thickly at the sight of him undressing himself, turning his head to the side to toss the jacket onto the couch by the window. 

You were thankful now that Matty had told you to sit beforehand, sure that your legs would have been untrustworthy as his tattooed arms were on full display now, a cut off tank that swooped rather low on his chest. 

You watch him closely as he pulls a fresh pair of black gloves from a box and slowly starts to slide them over his tattooed hands - and while you were disappointed to see his addictive hands that have plagued your thoughts now hidden, you couldn’t help the way your stomach swooped at the sight of the veins and ink covered by latex. “You wanna come over here?”

You weren’t quite sure if you trusted your legs to stand, but you didn’t like the thought of disappointing him, quick to slide off of the leather tattoo chair on wobbly knees and make your way over to stand in front of him. 

Your heart was back to the same rhythm as before, pounding in your chest as you watched Matty grab the rather large stencil from the table where he had rested your water bottle, carefully holding it between his gloves hands and bringing it to rest at the edge of the leather seat.

“Alright, stand up straight for me.” And really, it was embarrassing how quickly you had adjusted your posture. “Good, that’s good.” He mumbles and your stomach simmers. “Why do you look so nervous?” Matty teases, shaking the bottle of transfer gel that you hadn’t even seen him grab in his latex covered hand softly, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side. “This is the easy part.”

You forced out a laugh, cursing the fact that Matty was able to read you so well, yet not having the guts to tell Matty that the stencil was not the reason you were so nervous. You had plenty of tattoos, a stencil didn’t intimidate you, it was the way he was dropping to his knees in front of you that had your face turning pale.

Your heart pounds against your rib cage as Matty settles to his knees on the hard flooring, reaching up to grab the dragonfly stencil from the edge of the tattoo chair to rest it against his black denim clad thigh, continuing to shake the transfer gel as he was now eye level with your stomach.

You couldn’t even find it in yourself to feel ashamed of the desire that swirls around like a tornado your stomach at the compromising position the two of you were in, feeling dizzy at the fact that all you’d have to do was thread your fingers in his hair and pull his face a little lower and he’d be in the perfect place to -

Matty clears his throat, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was having the same thoughts. “Jewels - Y/N, can you-”

“You can call me Jewels.” You were quick to interrupt him, hating the way your stomach rolled with nausea anytime your government name was falling from his pretty pink lips, clearing your throat. “If you want.” The nerves climb back up your throat as Matty glances up at you with an expression that you couldn’t quite read, you shift your weight between your feet at the sight, heat that had simmered in your stomach started to bubble. “It’s a little weird to hear you calling me by my actual name, to be honest.”

Matty nods slowly, barely shaking the bottle full of transfer gel now, his voice unsure, eyes shifted down to your shoes. “I thought you didn’t want me to call you that anymore.”

The memory of you screaming and crying in the middle of this very space less than a week ago flashes in your mind, how you had told him never to call you by the nickname again, your heart clenches at the fact that he had remembered. 

“Yeah, well,” You pause to take a deep breath, shifting your weight once more. “things have changed.”

You were hoping that Matty would understand what you were implying, knowing that the two of you had promised to forget that the kiss had ever happened, but you weren’t going to act like that didn’t play a major part in how you felt about him now versus before you knew how his lips felt against your own.

Matty nods, mumbling. “Alright.” before drawing his attention back to your stomach, shaking the bottle of transfer gel with more force now as he clears his throat. “Jewels, can you..” He trails off, clearing his throat once more as his eyes shift between your stomach and anywhere but. “Uh-” Growing frustrated with himself as he struggles to find the right words, hard for him to focus on anything with the way you were looking down at him, shifting his knees against the floor as he repeats. “Can you-”

“What?” You glance down at your own stomach, curious to find what Matty was fixated on, eyebrows furrowing together as you try and figure out what Matty wanted from you, desperate to please.

Matty huffs, unable to find the words, taking it upon himself to reach out and adjust the waistband of the bohemian style patchwork joggers you were wearing, lowering the band down onto your hips more. You gasp at the action, heat that bubbled in your stomach fully burned now at the slightest bit of contact from Matty’s hand, a feeling you had been chasing to relive for days on end now. You felt rather woozy at his comfortability with you, knowing that he would never have done such a thing with anyone else.

“Sorry.” Matty mumbles, ignoring the heat from your gaze.

“It’s fine.” More than fine. Your voice was as breathless as you felt, adjusting your posture to stand as straight as possible when you heard him open the cap of the transfer gel, anticipation coursing through your veins - now that you had a taste of Matty’s hands back on you, you were counting down the seconds until you’d feel them again. 

Matty nods, glancing up at you. “You ready?” You nod, not trusting your voice at the moment. “It’s gonna be cold, yeah?” 

He waited for you to nod your head once more before squirting the gel down on your stomach, your stomach twitched at the feeling of him spreading it around. He hummed along to the song that played out of the speakers as he picked the stencil up off of his thigh, your heart fluttered at the idea of him listening to the music you loved in his free time, he tilts his head to the side to stare at your stomach, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he carefully brought the stencil down below your navel.

The warmth from his glove-covered hands seeps into your stomach as he gently smoothes down the edges of the stencil before bringing a flat hand down on your stomach, pressing the area to ensure that the design would transfer evenly. Only feeling as though you could breathe when he removed his hand in favor of slowly pulling the stencil off of your stomach, a rush of cold air hitting the area as he stared at his work with a bright smile, lip still pulled between his teeth. 

"That’s pretty damn good.” He brags, tilting his head every which way to ensure that the dragonfly was straight and even on your lower stomach, fighting to ignore the way his stomach flipped at the initial reveal. “I never get the stencil right on the first try,” Matty explains, shifting his weight on his knees as he leans back enough to stare up at you. “You must be my little good luck charm." 

You felt rather woozy looking down at the position Matty was staring up at you in, a sight you were sure to play behind your closed eyes in the privacy of your own room as your hands trail down to -

Matty clears his throat, almost as if he could hear what you were thinking, reaching out to grab onto the end of the black leather chair for support as he hoists himself back up, avoiding eye contact now. 

“You wanna go check it out in the mirror?” His voice is rougher now. “Make sure you’re happy with it?” Matty leaned back against the counter behind him, feeling safe to look at you again as you made your way over on shaky legs towards the rather large mirror that was littered with various stickers and leaned against the corner adjacent to where he was standing, his eyes follow your every move. “Tell me if you want it moved or adjusted, yeah? I don’t mind.”

You glance at Matty through the mirror, his dark eyes locking with yours immediately, you hold eye contact with him until it becomes too overwhelming, pulling your gaze away with a racing heart and finally checking out the stencil of the dragonfly on your stomach. 

"Oh, wow." Your voice came out as barely more than a whisper, tilting your head in the same ways that Matty had done before, twisting your body and making sure that you liked how it looked from every angle. It was perfect, everything you had ever imagined it to be.

Matty fights off a smile as he watches you intently, pulling his attention away from you long enough to grab his ink from the bottom shelf of the counter behind him, placing caps down onto the surface, glancing over his shoulder when he feels you approaching him.

"Yeah? C'mon, tell me how good I am." Matty teases, squeezing the bottle of black ink until the small caps are full to the brim, twisting the lid of the ink closed as he fixes you with a raised brow, as if he was anticipating the compliment. 

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “I refuse to fuel your ego.” You tease, not really knowing what to do with yourself now that you are standing back in front of him, giggling when Matty’s dark eyes mirror your own and roll back in a dramatic way that had you finally giving him what he wanted to hear. “It’s perfect.”

“Oh, I know.” Matty teases, “I just wanted to hear you say it.” A bright smile spreads over his face as you groan, his shoulders shaking through laughter as he holds his hand out to reference the tattoo chair next to you both. “You ready to get started? Or do you need a minute?”

Once again, your heart flutters for how much concern he seemed to have for you, seeming to go deeper than just basic client protocol. You found yourself shaking your head, walking over to the side of the black leather chair. “No, I’m ready, if I sit and think about it too much I’ll never go through with it.”

Matty nods, fully understanding the feeling, watching as you slowly slide back into the chair. “Be careful, don’t want you to mess up my perfect stencil.” He teases and your eyes roll back yet again, your turn to watch him as he pulls his rolling stool over towards the side of the tattoo chair, sitting down on it long enough to adjust the height before standing back up. 

You held your breath as Matty rested one of his hands next to your head, leaning down slightly and making your head spin from the sudden close proximity, the smell of his cologne mixed with the faded smell of cigarettes clouded your brain in a way that made it impossible to think straight.

“Sorry, I forgot to adjust the chair before you got comfortable.” Matty spoke quietly because he didn’t have to speak any louder for you to be able to hear him with how close his mouth was to your ear in this angle. “Can’t have you sitting up if I’m gonna tattoo your stomach, you know?” 

You laugh but it was strained, breathless. You held your breath as Matty slowly lowered the chair, you with it, so that you were laying down. You fought your absolute hardest to ignore the way his arm flexed as he held the weight steady so that you didn't drop too fast, or the way his hair fell forward over his eyes the lower the two of you got, or the way the simple chain around his neck was now dangling in your face. 

Maybe you did need the air on after all.

“Alright, that should be good.” Matty mumbles to himself, feeling as though an ice cold bucket of water had just been dropped over you at the sudden absence of his body so close to yours, watching the way Matty peeled the black latex from his hands, drinking in the sight of veins and tattoos while they were out for your viewing pleasure, feeling disappointed all over again when he covered them yet again with a fresh pair, snapping the latex against his skin in a playful way before sitting back down onto his rolling stool. 

Anticipation courses through your veins as you watch Matty turn in his chair to grab the tattoo gun off of the tray sitting on the counter behind him, his gloved hand lowering the needle of the gun into a cap full of ink and bringing the machine to life. The buzz that sounded from the tattoo gun made your ears ring, swallowing down any nerves you had, trying to convince yourself that this couldn’t be any worse than the tattoos you already had, right?

Hard to convince yourself when Matty was speaking up, his dark eyes betraying him and glancing over the frame of your body laid out for him, clearing his throat as he brings the gun back to life once more in the air this time. 

“Alright, I’m not going to lie to you,” You already didn’t like where this was going, swallowing down the lump in your throat. “This is going to fucking hurt, okay?” Matty’s voice was soft, as soft as the assuring smile that he shot you, rolling his stool closer to the chair you were laid out in, the smell of his cologne already had the anxiety in your veins settling. “But I promise to be as gentle as I can.” He assures, butterflies mix with the nerves pooling in your stomach. “Just try to remember to breathe and not tense up, alright? Think you can do that for me?” 

You nodded along even though you already found it hard to remember how to breathe now as Matty talked you through it, your mind whirling with dirty images that had you squirming against the leather of the chair you were laid out on before the needle had even touched you. You held your breath as Matty leaned in, bringing his arm that held the tattoo gun out to half rest on the leather of the tattoo chair and half rest on your stomach, your skin burning from the contact, already feeling woozy. 

Matty glances up at you through his lashes, the needle hovering over your skin, his dark eyes searching your face. “Tell me if you need a break, for however long, or if you’re feeling lightheaded and need your water or your snack, alright?”

Matty waits for you to nod, wanting to ensure that you had heard him, you nod along despite the fuzzy feeling in your head already. 

“Alright, sit still for me.” Matty spoke softly, applying a little more pressure down on your stomach in an attempt to keep you still himself, slowly bringing the needle down to make contact with your skin, dragging the needle for a few seconds before quickly lifting it up, his dark eyes quick to glance up at your face. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” The words come out as strangled as you felt, trying to remember not to tense as Matty brings the needle back down to your stomach and keeps it there longer this time. It was all too much; the pain, the way he was speaking to you, him quite literally holding you down - your head was spinning.

Your eyes clench through the pain as you try to focus on the song that was playing through the speaker on his wall, but your heart was beating too loudly in your ear for you to hear anything except for Matty apparently. 

“What’s your favorite song on the album?” Matty’s voice pulls you out of the pain you felt, releasing the breath you had been holding in when he lifted the needle from your skin, grateful for the relief. Matty raises an eyebrow at you, awaiting an answer to the question that your brain hadn’t even processed. 

“What?” Your voice came out breathy, watching as he turned to fill his needle up with more ink, glancing at you over his shoulder. 

“Currents.” Matty explains, tilting his head toward the speaker on the wall when the confusion from your face didn’t fade. “Which song is your favorite?”

“Oh.” Clear to you now that Matty was trying to distract you from the pain, taking in one last deep breath as Matty settles back over you, your eyes falling shut at the feeling of the needle back on your skin as you try and focus on remembering the track list instead of the feeling of the needle dragging across your lower stomach. It was a pain like you had never felt before, and the fact that it was Matty who was administering it made you feel as though you were about to explode. “New person, same old mistakes.” 

“Oo, she’s not like other girls.” Matty teases, tilting his head slightly as he starts a new line. “Was expecting you to say The Less I Know The Better, to be honest, but I guess I should've known that’d be too basic for a girl like you.”

The way Matty was teasing you combined with the pain he was inflicting upon you had your stomach swirling with a newfound heat that you had never experienced before, tongue thick in your mouth, the base of your hair prickling with sweat. 

“Of course not.” You answer through a wince, stomach clenching when he reaches a particularly painful spot. “Fuck.” You whine, missing the way Matty’s jaw clenches at the sound. “Hurts.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Matty mumbles the apology, his dark eyes glued to the lines he was etching into your skin, pulling away to wipe the excess ink away with a paper towel, glancing at you for a split second before pulling back further to rest his gun down on his tray. 

He pulls off one of his black gloves and reaches out to grab your stainless steel water bottle that you had sat there earlier, untwisting the cap with one hand, an action that should not have been as attractive as it was, holding the bottle out to you. "Drink.”

And really, you should've been embarrassed by how quickly you listened, tongue thick and dry in your mouth as Matty's dark eyes stared at you intensely, watching as you drank some of the water that filled the bottle. The cool water did nothing to combat the burning heat of your skin, but it felt like a breath of fresh air falling down your throat, settling in your stomach amongst the desire. “Feel better?”

“Yeah.” Your voice as breathless as you felt, clearing your throat as you hand your water bottle back to Matty, adjusting against the leather of the tattoo chair as Matty slips the black latex glove back over his hand. “What about you?”

“Hm?” Matty hums, staring down at your stomach, dark eyes drinking in the etched lines as he tries to find where he had left off, leaning his arm back down on your body and glancing up at you quickly. 

“The song.” You say, it’s all you could say, your face already twisting up in pain as Matty drops the needle back down to your skin, you try and focus on the shape of the lines instead of the pain, wondering what part of the dragonfly he was working on. 

“Oh, I don’t know.” Matty shrugs, lifting the needle off of your skin in preparation of your reaction to what he was about to say. “Probably The Less I Know The Better, to be honest.” His eyes gleam as they look up at you, teasing. “I don’t mind being a basic girl.” 

Your stomach shakes with laughter, just as he expected it to, laughing along easily with you, happy to see your face not screwed up in pain. 

“Or ‘Cause I’m a Man, because, you know.” He trails off, raising the arm that wasn’t resting on your stomach to flex his muscles. “I’m a man.”

You snort at his antics, rolling your eyes. “If you say so.”

“I do, actually.” Matty counters. “Got it tattooed on me and everything.”

“You do not.” You scoff, eyes already starting to search along the expanse of his arms in search for the tattoo.

Matty sighs, twisting his body to rest the tattoo gun back down on his tray before fixing you with a pointed look, leaning back on his rolling stool to lift the bottom of his cut off tank top. Your tongue feels like sandpaper, thick in your mouth as you drink in the sight of Matty’s bare chest, eyes scanning over all the new tattoos that you had never seen before, pulled away from their adventure when Matty points a finger at the I’m a man tattoo on his chest.

More laughter tumbles from your lips at the sight, giggling through the disappointment of him dropping his shirt back down, hopeful that you’d be able to remember the sight.

“In what context would you ever need to get that tattooed on you?” You snort through a laugh, watching the way he picks the tattoo gun up again, filling the needle back up with more black ink, able to tease him back now that you didn’t have the pain coursing through your body. “Scared that girls wouldn't be able to tell otherwise?”

“You do know that I am the one holding the needle, right?” Matty makes the gun buzz in the air for emphasis, you roll your eyes as your stomach rolls with desire at the reminder. Matty falls back over you easily, resting his arm above your navel now so he had more of the stencil available to him. 

The laughter died in your throat at the feeling of his elbow brushing against the side of your breast, feeling breathless and woozy all over again as Matty shifts on his stool, cracking his neck at the side before leaning back into you, closer this time. You could feel his soft breath cascading from his nose and onto your skin as he resumed his line work. 

The two of you sit in silence for a bit after that, Matty too focused on the task at hand to distract you from the pain he was inflicting upon you, you could tell that he was working on the lower half of the dragonfly by how much more painful it felt than before - you didn’t even know that was possible. 

Your face was screwed up tightly in pain, white knuckling your own fist so tightly as you held your breath and prayed that this part of the tattoo wouldn’t last as long as the others. 

“Breathe.” Matty’s deep voice reminds, your lungs gasping for air immediately, twitching on the leather as he tattoos the lowest line of the dragonfly. “That’s it, you’re doing so good for me.” 

Matty’s voice was rougher than before, making it impossible to fantasize about those eight words in any context other than one that had a whimper falling from your bitten raw lips, filthy images plague your mind as heat swirls in your stomach and you couldn’t help but wonder if Matty was feeling the same way you were. 

“Fuck.” You mumble under your breath, squirming against the leather of the chair, unable to keep your body still - the pain that was coursing through your body was slowly morphing into a form of pleasure, quickly growing to become addicted to the feeling of the needle against your skin if it was Matty’s hand controlling it.

Matty clears his throat, adjusting the way he was leaned over you, his chest now fully pressed against the side of the chair, the action caused the small chain dangling from his neck to knock against your arm that you had rested against your side, not knowing where else to put it, the sudden feeling of cold metal against your burning skin gave you goosebumps. Matty tilted his body to get a better, more comfortable angle as he worked to finish the bottom part of the outline. 

Matty glances up at you between swipes of the tattoo gun against your skin, taking in the sight of how tightly your bottom lip was pulled between your teeth, surprised that you hadn’t drawn blood yet. 

“You need something to suck on?” Surprised by how rough his voice had come out, quick to clear his throat, shaking away the dirty thoughts that filtered through his mind as he clarified. “A lollipop.” Rephrasing his question from before, hopeful that maybe you were too distracted by the pain to hear what he had said the first time. "Would you like a lollipop or something to bite down on?”

But it was too late, the filthy images of you laid over the edge of the leather chair, head dangling off the end of it as Matty straddles your head and - You couldn’t stop the blush the spread over your cheeks at the thought, paired with the pain of the needle dragging across your skin, you couldn’t help but feel as though you were on fire. 

You try to subtly clench your thighs together in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure between them, hopeful that the boy tattooing you was too focused on his line work to notice, though by the way his jaw clenched - you feared he might be starting to figure you out. 

Matty cleared his throat, shifting and sending his necklace into your arm once more as he tried to get closer to the area he was tattooing, ultimately deciding to remove himself from your body entirely, much to your dismay. 

"Do you mind turning towards me slightly? Just a little bit.” You couldn’t help but notice how much rougher his voice had grown in such a short amount of time. “It's going to be quite uncomfortable for you, but it shouldn't take too long.” He explains. “I’m about to do the edges on the top and I don't want the line work to be wonky."

You nod, not quite sure about how you were supposed to move considering you felt glued to the chair, but you somehow managed. 

"Yeah, just turn towards me, that’s it. Just a little more, yeah.” You felt dizzy as the deep drawl of Matty’s word washed over you as you adjust on the leather. “That’s good, perfect.” Matty's lip pulled between his teeth as he smiled. "You listen so well." 

And Jesus Christ, you were starting to think that he was doing it on purpose. 

A forced laugh tumbled from your bitten raw lips as you adjusted your head to try and make yourself comfortable, trying to remember how to breathe as Matty leaned back down against you, this angle allowed for you to feel much closer to him - staring at the skin that peaked out from the low scoop of the cut off tank that he was wearing, sure that Matty could feel the racing pulse of your heart under your skin as he brings his arm back down to rest on the side of your ribs now. 

You squirm almost as soon as the needle touches your skin now, something about this angle makes the feeling of pain more heightened against such a sensitive area, your leg twitching ever so slightly as you bite down on your lip to swallow a moan. 

“Be still.” Matty mumbles, desire swirls in your stomach and pools between your legs at the command, you couldn’t help but clench your thighs together again, too drunk on the feeling of Matty’s hands on you to care about him figuring you out. 

Matty’s hand that wasn’t holding the tattoo gun finds a home at your waist, fingers covered in latex dig into the flesh there and have your thighs clenching together for a third time. You swallow down a whine at the feeling of him holding you down because you weren’t listening to him, white hot shame rolls through you at the idea of not being good for him, of disappointing him. You couldn’t stomach the thought, fighting to stay still for him, though you were sure his hand at your waist had most of the control over that. 

“There you go, good girl, almost done.” Matty mumbles and you all but moan at that, biting your lip so hard that you start to taste blood, already feeling so overwhelmed by the desire thrumming through your veins caused by the pain mixed pleasure from the needle that Matty’s words had you feeling rather lightheaded. His fingers dig into your waist harder now, sure that if they weren’t covered by latex that they would leave a mark. 

Matty suddenly tattooed you as if he had a fire under his ass, desperate to finish the line work on your skin so he could go outside for a smoke before starting the shading on the dragonfly, he needed the break from watching you squirm almost as badly as you needed one from his hands on your body - both of you were on the brink of insanity. 

The needle of the tattoo gun drags across your skin one last time before Matty was squeezing your hip, gone as quickly as it appeared as Matty pulled away from your body to lean back and rest the gun down on its tray. 

“All done.” The relief clear in his voice, you watched intently as he reached over to grab a bottle sitting on the counter labeled green soap, turning back to face you but avoiding eye contact. “Lay flat for me.” You were quick to adjust yourself back to the position you had started in, your stomach flipping at the command, watching the way he picks up a stray paper towel from a stack he had peeled for himself previously, squirting some of the liquid from the bottle in his hand before his dark eyes glance over at you in a warning. “This is probably going to hurt, okay?” 

You nod, wincing slightly at the feeling of Matty dropping the damp paper towel down onto your burning hot skin, gasping as he wiped away any excess ink mixed with blood until he was happy with the cleanliness.

You were about to say that it wasn’t as bad as you were expecting, but the comment died on your tongue when Matty reached over to grab another paper towel, bringing it down to your skin to wipe the green soap from the area. Nothing could have prepared you for the feeling of him dry wiping such a sensitive area, your legs twitching from the pain that stings from each swipe of the dry paper towel, not able to hide the moan falling from your bitten raw lips at the feeling. 

Matty stands up from his stool so fast that he nearly knocks it over, quick to pull the gloves off of his hands and toss them towards the trash can, stumbling his way over to where he had thrown his leather jacket earlier - digging in the pockets for his pack of cigarettes and lighter as he calls over his shoulder, voice deep and strained. 

“Uh, you can do whatever - bathroom, water, snacks, whatever you need to do to get yourself ready for shading.” Matty’s words were rushed, matching his frantic movements as his trembling hands pulled a cigarette from the pack and quickly lit it, taking a deep drag to ease some of the tension built up in his body from watching you squirm and whimper for the better half of the past hour. “I need- I’m gonna go smoke.”

And then he was out the door, the sound of the chimes ringing out through the shop linger as you lay on the leather of the tattoo chair with a racing heart. 

You fought to catch your breath, easier to do now that the needle wasn’t prodding at your skin while Matty held you down, staring up at the ceiling as you played Matty’s words on a constant loop in your head. You shake the memory from your mind since it was making it hard for you to breathe all over again, starting to sit up so you could take a drink of water and wincing at the pain that comes with it, not too keen on the feeling when Matty wasn’t the cause of it.

Now that you didn’t have Matty distracting you, you were able to realize just how much pain you were in, sitting up on the black leather chair now and glancing down at your stomach to see it all red and slightly raised - irritated and angry. You couldn’t help but find the humor in the fact that it seemed to be the perfect example of how Matty typically made you feel. 

You lean over to grab your stainless steel water bottle from the table next to the chair, practically guzzling the cold liquid down your dry throat, begging for it to cool down your overheated skin. 

You twist the cap, glancing back down at your stomach, tilting your head in a way to try and see the line work that had been done before remembering the rather large mirror leaned up in the corner. You found yourself sliding off of the leather, slow movements as if to try and cause the least amount of pain to the tattoo as possible, wincing still as you finally stood on shaky legs. 

You walk over to the mirror littered with stickers from before, gasping before you could even fully stand in front of it, the sight of the black ink etched into your lower stomach had your mouth falling open. Your eyes glued to the outline of the dragonfly as you turned your body every which way so you could see it from all angles, suddenly you didn’t care about all the pain you had endured, already deeming it worth it.

You tilt your head slightly and try to imagine what it might look like when it was all shaded in, thrill creeps up your spine at the reminder of what was to come, knowing that it would be far more intense than the line work had been, Matty might have to tie you down to keep you still - you throb at the thought. 

And then your mind was consumed by the tattooed boy all over again, the way his voice got rougher the further into your tattoo he had gotten, the words spoken that you couldn’t help but imagine in a different light, the way his fingers dug into your hip as he held you down, if you closed your eyes and pictured it now it was almost as if you could imagine him fu- 

You shake the thoughts as soon as they plague your mind, legs already starting to feel like gelatin as arousal courses through your veins and swirls in your stomach, your skin heating up all over again as you glance over to the front door of his shop. 

You couldn’t help but wonder what Matty was doing out there, what he might look like leaned against the brick wall, how his hair might look from the hand constantly running through it. The images have you feeling as though you could take a smoke break yourself, allowing your legs to carry you towards the front door and out of the tattoo shop before you could second guess yourself. 

The smell of smoke hits you immediately, the sound of the chimes at the top of his door have Matty jumping slightly, glancing over at you quickly before taking a deep drag of the cigarette held between his fingertips.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes fell to the way his lips wrapped around the end of it, swallowing thickly at the smoke that blew out the side of his pink lips, quick to bring the cigarette back between them as soon as the smoke was all out.

Your heart starts to race as your eyes take in the sight of the cigarette, not knowing much about them, but enough to know that with the amount of time he had been standing out here that it should have been burned way lower than it was, meaning that this had to be his second one already.

Thrill shoots up your spine at the thought of him needing to calm his nerves with the nicotine, that maybe he was just as affected by all of this as you were, just as desperate as you were to taste each other again. 

Matty tossed his head back, blowing a thick stream of smoke into the air above him before clearing his throat and finding the courage to look over at you, quick to avoid your eyes and stare at your stomach instead. 

“Looks sick, yeah?” The deep, raspy drawl of his voice sends shivers down your spine, you clench at the sound and Matty takes another desperate drag of his cigarette. 

“Yeah.” Your voice was breathy, quiet, too worked up to be anything but. Matty shifts his weight between his feet, running a hand through his hair. “I love it.”

Matty nods, eyes flashing between your stomach and your face before leaving both all together in favor of staring at the sidewalk, needing the break.

“You’re really good with your hands.” The impure thoughts whirling through your mind have the compliment coming out all wrong, scared that he was about to figure you all out, you were quick to correct them. “I mean, you're really good at what you do.” Cringing when it seemed as though you were just digging yourself into a deeper hole, desperate to clarify. “Tattoos.” You settle on. “You’re really good at tattooing.”

Matty huffs out a laugh but it’s strained, smoke cascading from his mouth. “I guess that’s good to hear considering I’ve made a whole career off of it.” 

He comments offhandedly, opening his mouth yet again but stopping himself to take another puff of his cigarette, the nicotine seemed to give him the courage. 

“You did so good for me.” Clearing his throat, seeming to have the same issue that you had, wracking his brain to find the right words to correct himself. “I mean, I know that a stomach tattoo is quite painful and you sat really well for me.” You preen at the compliment, his dark eyes flashing over to meet your own, hiding a smirk that he was trying to fight off behind his cigarette as he teases. “For the most part.”

Your stomach flips at him acknowledging the way that you couldn’t help but squirm anytime the needle made contact with your skin, the desire for the pain burning underneath your skin as you bit back whimpers from the sensation. 

You felt rather lightheaded now, sure that Matty had you all figured out, maybe that was why he had practically ran out of there and was already on his second cigarette in such a short amount of time. You found yourself reaching out for the cigarette dangling from his lips before you could even think twice about it, needing something, anything to take the edge off. 

“Do you mind?” Your voice was as breathless as you felt, tongue thick in your mouth with a sandpaper-like feel as the heat courses through your veins.

Matty’s eyebrows knit together, slowly pulling the cigarette from between his lips, his eyes flash between it and you. “I thought you didn’t smoke?”

Though he was offering it to you anyway, your fingertips brushing against one another as he passed the cigarette over, his dark eyes glued to the way the cigarette rested between your ringed fingers. 

“I don’t.” You answer truthfully, staring down at the foreign object between your fingers, embarrassment slowly creeping into your veins as you realize you weren’t quite sure what to do with it now that it was in your hands. “I just thought maybe it’d, you know-“ You hesitate, pulling your eyes away from the burning cigarette to glance over at Matty, stomach flipping at the way his dark eyes were already fixated on you. “take some of the edge off.”

Matty clears his throat, a hand running through his hair as he shifts between his feet, feeling as though he was about to explode now that his lifebuoy was taken from him and now resting between your own fingers. He was desperate for the cigarette back, skin crawling without the nicotine there to swallow down his desire, almost as desperate for the cigarette as he was to see it between your lips. 

“You just have to breathe it in, slow.” Matty instructs through a husky tone, clearing his throat in an attempt to bring his voice back to normal but failing. “Don’t suck on it too quickly.”

Your mind felt fuzzy, hazy at his words that you couldn’t help but hear as anything other than filthy. You were quick to follow the instructions, his dark eyes glued to your every move as you slowly brought the cigarette up to your mouth, wrapping your lips around where his had been previously, you couldn’t help but think how it almost felt as though you were kissing him again. 

The embarrassment that had creeped its way in had quickly been burnt out by the smoke that cascaded down into your lungs, Matty giving you the confidence. 

“That’s it, that’s good.” Matty mumbles and you were having a hard time distinguishing if the fire you felt in your stomach was from the smoke in your lungs or the way he was looking at you. “Now take the cigarette out and blow.”

You felt rather woozy, ignoring the filthy image of you getting on your knees on the middle of the sidewalk and following orders. But you don’t, despite how badly you wanted to, pulling the cigarette from between your lips and slowly exhaling the smoke out, mirroring how you had seen him do it before.

The smoke falls over Matty, washing him in grey and further clouding his mind as he blinks through the smoke to watch you staring at the cigarette between your ringed fingers. You couldn’t help but feel rather proud of yourself, happy that you hadn’t embarrassed yourself by coughing in front of him, already craving the taste again - maybe it’s because it reminded you of what was left on your tongue after Matty had kissed you. 

You bring the cigarette back between your lips, not needing Matty to instruct you this time, though you couldn’t help but miss the way he had talked you through it, inhaling a deeper drag this time to drown out the idea of him talking you through other things. 

Your eyes lock with Matty’s rather dark ones as you exhale another stream of smoke, your throat burned slightly more this time than before but you fought to let it show, holding the cigarette out for him to take, feeling as though he needed it more than you did with how rigid his shoulders were.

Matty accepts the offer, missing the feeling of your fingertips brushing against one another yet again as his dark eyes burn a hole into the ring of lip gloss left behind on the tip of the cigarette. 

The air between the two of you was thick, clouded by smoke, hard to breathe in as silence fell over the two of you. 

Though you didn’t sit in it for long, Matty only let it linger for a beat or two before he broke it, his voice rough and rasped. “Jewels.”

“Yeah?” The breathy tone of your voice had the word coming out more like a whisper, heart pounding against your rib cage as soon as the nickname fell from his lips. 

He stares at the ring of lip gloss at the end of his cigarette for another beat, swallowing thickly before sliding his eyes back over to you, slowly running up the expanse of your body before finally landing home against your own. You couldn’t help but hold your breath, knowing you wouldn't be able to breathe in the midst of the thick tension anyhow, silently begging him to cross the line that the two of you had been tiptoeing around since Sunday. 

His breathing grew heavier, you could hear it, could feel it - pinned to your place on the sidewalk as his dark eyes fell down to your lips for a split second, your stomach simmered at the sight. 

“I don’t know if I can pretend like nothing happened.” Matty’s husky voice spoke truthfully, his eyes betraying him yet again as they fell back down to your lips to watch the way your tongue peaks out to wet them.

You thought back on the conversation the two of you had earlier that day, how you had promised to forget that the kiss had even happened, over the moon to know that now you didn’t have to. 

“Yeah.” You nod, though it was small, breathless, time seeming to stand still as you stare into the dark brown eyes that were looking at you as though he could eat you alive, not that you would mind it. “Me either.”

The two words were barely spoken into the thick tension of the air between you before Matty was all over you, tossing what was left of the cigarette to the sidewalk beneath his shoes and doing his best to blindly stomp it out as his hands find home against the sides of your face, his soft pink lips kissing you as hungry and hurried as he had the other night. 

You felt as though you were on top of the world, finally able to feed the craving you had for his mouth, just as addicted to the taste now as you were a few days ago - even more so now that he wasn’t pulling away when you ran your fingers through the base of his hair, threading your fingers in the dark locks and tugging them in a desperate attempt to bring him closer to you.

The kiss was dizzying, all consuming, hard to keep up in as Matty slowly backed you into the brick wall that he had been leaning up against when you first came outside. You moan at the feeling of your body pushed against the rough material and Matty’s body pressing against your own, another moan tumbles from your lips against his at the feeling of his shirt rubbing against the fresh tattoo on your stomach - the pain that came with the contact had arousal swimming through your veins and pooling between your legs. 

Matty’s hands fell from your face in favor of trailing down the sides of your body, you were already drunk on the feeling, thankful that you didn’t have the layer of latex between skin anymore as his hands find home at your hips, squeezing them before slipping a denim clad thigh between your own. 

You gasp at the feeling and Matty takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, tangling with your own. He kissed you as if his life depended on it, full of desperation and pent up frustration - as if he was hungry, starving, craving. 

You find yourself squirming against his thigh he had pressed between your legs, desperate to relieve some of the built up pressure in your core that had been building since Matty first got his hands on you, tugging on his dark hair as you swallow a groan that fell into your mouth as Matty’s teeth grazed your bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. He pulls back until your lip falls back with a pop, quick to dive back in for more, his tongue meeting your mouth before his own lips did - a bruising kiss that you found yourself getting lost in, melting against the brick wall of 102 Tattoo.  

His blunt fingernails dig into your hips, sure to leave crescent moons behind, before spreading over you. He pulls his thigh from between your legs, a whine of protest on the tip of your tongue, yet dying there when Matty mumbles an order against your lips. “Jump.”

And you might as well have asked him how high with how quickly you were obeying, tugging on his hair before jumping into his tattooed arms, his lips never breaking from yours as he carries you blindly back into the shop.

The chimes above his door that ring out into space have thrill shooting up your spine, settling in your stomach as Matty lays you back out on the leather tattoo chair from before, a whimper falling from your bitten raw lips as his shirt rubs over your tattoo once more. You clench around nothing at the feeling, embarrassed by how quickly the pain had your core throbbing as you squirm against the all too familiar black leather. 

You fight to catch your breath as Matty breaks away from your lips in favor of leaving a trail of open mouth kisses down the side of your jawline, following the expanse of your neck, licking over your pulse point where you were sure that he could feel the racing rhythm of your heart. You felt lightheaded, overheated, dizzy as he grinds down over your core. 

You tug his shirt up his back, desperate to make contact with his bare skin as his teeth graze up the side of your neck, breaking away long enough to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it off to the side before falling back into you. 

You wrap a leg around his waist, running manicured nails along the expanse of his back as he kisses you with fever now. His calloused fingers toy with the hem of your cropped tank top, your stomach twitches at the feeling, allowing Matty’s tongue to melt you against the leather of the tattoo chair as he slowly pulls the material up your body. 

You shiver at the feeling, goosebumps raised along the expanse of your arms as Matty pulls away with the intention of taking your shirt the rest of the way off, though it doesn’t make it much farther than your tits before his head is dropping down in a groan. 

You weren’t quite sure if the guttural groan ripped from Matty’s throat was due to the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra under your tank top or the shiny silver metal pierced through your peaked nipples, either way, you were satisfied to see him so worked up over the sight of you. 

A smile slowly spreads across your face as a teasing remark builds up on your tongue, ready to fire, yet Matty steals all your ammunition by sticking his tongue out and licking a thick strip over the silver bar, all but growling as he leans down to fully wrap his swollen lips around your pierced nipple. Your eyes flutter at the feeling, trailing your manicured nails up his back to rake them through his hair, tugging on the strands as he pulls the piercing with his teeth. 

You squirm at the pinch of pain, quickly overtaken by pleasure as Matty swirls his tongue around the bud in a way that had you panting against the tattoo chair. Matty pulls off from the pierced nipple he had been playing with in favor of licking a stripe across your sternum, over to the neglected side and starting the process over again. 

You moan, squirm, tug, anything to try and relieve some of the pressure built up inside of you. You weren’t quite sure what to focus on; his tongue swirling circles of pleasure around your nipple, his teeth tugging at the silver bar pierced through the bud, his calloused fingertips running along the skin above the waistband of your bohemian style joggers before slipping under the band and slowly pulling the patterned cloth down your legs. 

You unwrap your leg from his waist on instinct, trying to make it as easy as possible for him to undress you, earning you a particularly hard suck before he was pulling away, panting through swollen lips as he tugs your pants off the rest of the way, tossing them in the same direction that his long forgotten shirt had gone. 

Matty groans at the sight of you laid out underneath him in only a black thong that matched the ink on your body, his eyes drawn to the unfinished dragonfly on your stomach, watching the way it almost seemed as though it was about to take flight with the speed at which your stomach was rising and falling through pants. 

You shifted against the black leather of the tattoo chair under his gaze, his dark eyes drank in every inch of you, almost as if he was trying to memorize it so he’d never forget. You allow your own eyes to be as shameless as his, able to get a better look at the unseen ink he had flashed to you earlier, trailing down his torso and squirming at the sight of a rose peeking out above the band of his jeans and the feeling of his spit drying against your tits. 

You were desperate for him to do something, anything, the heat from his stare burned through your already overheated skin and had your core throbbing around nothing. 

“Matty.” You find yourself whimpering his name, the first thing spoken between the two of you since Matty was ordering you to jump in his arms so he could carry you inside. “Please.”

The two words seemed to snap the chord inside of Matty, tongue meeting your lips before his own did, his hands quick to grab your hips and pull you closer to the edge of the chair. You fought to keep up with the pace Matty was kissing you with, proving to be quite difficult as his tongue explored your mouth and had your brain feeling as though it was melting out of your ears with each swipe. 

You trail your hands down his chest, allowing your nails to drag against his skin and raise goosebumps as a ringed finger hooks into the loop of his black denim jeans and tugs, Matty groans against your lips at the feeling, humoring you by grinding down over your core briefly. You moan, tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth as your hands blindly search to pop open the button on his jeans, thankful that you didn’t have to go through the layer of a belt. 

Matty pinches your hip before trailing down to swat your hands away, sucking your lip into his mouth and pulling back until it pops back in place, slowly backing away from you to stand between your legs. Your body follows him blindly, gasping when Matty pushes you back down against the tattoo chair, his nearly black eyes pin you to the leather as his tattooed chest rises and falls quickly through pants. You squirm at the sight, core throbbing. 

“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy.” Matty’s voice is deep, raspy, rough. “All day.” Spoken through pants as his fingers trail a random path down the expanse of your thighs. “Fucking squirming and moaning, teasing.” His blunt fingernails dig into the flesh of your thigh at that, you hiss at the pain. “Making an appointment with me just to get your stomach tattooed, needed my hands on you that badly?”

You nod, squirming against the tattoo chair, a whine falling from your bitten raw lips as his hand comes out to hold your hip down the same way he had been before.

“Yeah? This is what you wanted when you made that appointment, right?” His hand that had been tracing along the inside of your thigh slides up to meet the band of your thong, sliding a finger under the material but not yet pulling it down. “You wanted to tease and push until you got exactly what you wanted.”

“Yes.” You whine, unashamed, drunk on the feeling of his calloused fingertip drawing a pattern at your hip bone under the band of your thong. “Matty, please, I need you.”

“You need me?” Matty mocks in a condescending tone, practically pouting as his finger hooks across the band of your underwear. “Tell me then, love, what exactly is it that you wanted? Hm?” He hums, slowly starting to pull the black material down your legs. “That you need.” 

You felt dizzy, his raspy words shooting straight down to your throbbing core that he was slowly exposing, fighting to get some air down to your lungs. “You.” You whine, squirming against the tattoo chair in desperation as Matty pulls your thong the rest of the way down your legs. “I need you, Matty, please fuck me.”

You couldn’t find it in yourself to be ashamed by how desperate you were for the tattoo artist, not when Matty was groaning and falling back into you - fixing you with a kiss that showed he was just as desperate as you were, blindly fumbling with the button of his jeans and zipper alongside it as he licks, sucks, bites his way through a kiss that left you feeling rather woozy.

The sound of his zipper had thrill shooting up your spine and anticipation coursing through your veins, threading your fingers in his dark hair and giving it a tug, swallowing the groan that tumbles from his lips after. 

Matty slides his hand into his boxers, tugging himself free of confinement, pumping his length once, twice, forcing you to swallow a groan as he swipes a thumb over the tip. You squirm at the sound, whining at the fact that you couldn’t see him, your core throbbing and clenching around nothing as Matty runs his tip through your folds. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet.” Matty groans, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth before pulling back to stare down at you. Your breath hitches at the sight of him, hair tousled over his forehead, his nearly black eyes that stared down at you as though he could eat you alive. He was quite the sight. “This all for me?” Matty’s deep, raspy voice pulls you from the daydream, his dark eyes flashing with something more dangerous as if to clue you in to the fact that he had you all figured out. “Or for my needle?”

You whine, squirm, beg against the leather of the tattoo chair, dizzy at the fact that Matty had seen right through you. You were now more than certain that if Matty hadn’t finished your line work when he had that you would’ve been laid out and naked in his tattoo chair ages ago. You try to wrack your brain for an answer, hard to think when Matty was teasing his tip through your wetness and staring down at you expectantly. 

“Both.” Your voice through breathless pant, desperate, though you shake your head soon after - not liking the answer. “You.” You whine, wrapping a leg back around his waist in hopes that it would make him finally give you what you so desperately craved. “All for you, Matty, fuck, please.”

Matty groans at that, taking hold of the base of his length before slowly entering you, your mouth falls open in the same pace the deeper that he slides into you, gasping out what little breath that was left in your lungs when he finally reaches the hilt.

Your moan practically harmonizes with the groan ripped from Matty’s throat at the feeling of him bottoming out inside of you, already drunk on the feeling of him inside of you before he could even pull out once, slowly before thrusting back inside of you with much more force than the first time. 

It didn’t take him long to find a rhythm after that, hips that snapped into your own in a way that had your eyes rolling back, as though he had been fucking you for years.

His mouth finds a home back against your own in a kiss that was really more panting than actual kissing, your hands running greedily down the expanse of his chest, allowing your nails to scratch softly at his skin. Matty hisses at the feeling, trailing his calloused fingertips up the expanse of your body and capturing your hands in his own on the journey as he pounds into you. 

You were too wrapped up in the pleasure that bloomed through you to even notice that Matty was pinning your hands above your head until he was pressing them down onto the leather of the tattoo chair and groaning into your ear. “Be still.”

But how were you ever supposed to accomplish such a task when all you wanted to do was run your greedy hands all over his body, when he was fucking into you at a pace that you couldn’t quite catch your breath in, when you had been so desperate for this moment since the day you met him. 

You whine, clenching around his length as you try and squirm free from his grasp, wanting to be good for him but unable to stop your body from reacting to the pleasure that rolled through you. The hands that held your wrists squeeze to emphasize the two words that Matty repeats. “Be still.” 

A whimper falls from your kiss-swollen lips as you fight hard to obey, but Matty was dead set on making it impossible, fucking into you slower with each thrust now until your body had stopped squirming against the leather. 

“Please.” You beg, core clenching around his practically still length inside of you, desperate to have the mind blowing pace from before back - though your lungs appreciated the second to catch some air. 

Matty fixes you with a pointed look, a slightly raised brow, dark eyes that convey that he’d give you whatever you wanted as long as you could listen, obey. You whine pitifully, shifting against the tattoo chair one last time before pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and forcing your body to stay still. 

“Good girl.” Matty mumbles and you fight not to preen, only having to sit still for a mere second before Matty is snapping his hips back against your own, a singular thrust that makes your body jolt before stilling yet again. “See, you do know how to behave when you want something badly enough.” 

His words make your head feel fuzzy, digging your fingernails into the hand that holds your wrist down in an attempt to stop yourself from squirming. Matty tilts his head in a patronizing way, a strand of his hair falls down onto his forehead from the action.

“What happened to my little girl with the bold mouth who always has so much to say, hm?” Matty coos, condescending. “She never behaves, so you really must be fucking desperate for my cock, baby.”

You preen at the pet name, addicted to the way it rolled off of his tongue, a broken moan ripped from your throat as you clench around him, sure that he knew just how desperate you were - clenching around his cock like a vice, arms tugging for freedom under his hold. You didn’t like the arrogant look in his eye, staring down at you as if he had faced you with some form of challenge. 

You roll your eyes out of frustration instead of pleasure as you grumble. “Shut the fuck up and fuck me already.”

Your words were bullet less, a satisfied smile falling over his face as his hips finally snapped back into you, building back up to the mind numbing rhythm that he was fucking you with beforehand, cooing. “There she is.” 

You whimper, back to squirming as you try and adjust to the full feeling in your burning stomach. You hated the power he had over you, desperate to rattle him even just a little, knock him down a peg, make him feel as crazy as you did right now - though not knowing how until Matty gave you the ammunition. 

“He wanted you like this.” Matty all but snarled, nostrils flared ever so slightly as a rough hand comes down on the inside of your thigh, spreading your legs farther for him, the tattoo on your stomach burns slightly at the change of angle. “Would have taken you over that coffee bar any day of the week if I hadn’t been standing there to stop him.”

And suddenly you realize who he was talking about, Kian. 

Oh, you could have fun with this. 

“Maybe.” You sigh through a breathy tone, swallowing down a moan as you bat your eyelashes up at the tattoo artist with a lie spilling from your tongue. “Or maybe he already has.” You don’t miss the way Matty’s eyes flash with jealousy, growing impossibly darker as you dig yourself into a hole. “You did leave us with a lot of free time this week.”

Your stomach flips at the feeling of Matty’s blunt fingernails digging rather harshly into the flesh of your wrist, sure to leave marks that would serve as a reminder of him for days on end, his voice rough - eyes narrowed, challenging. “You’re lying.”

You shrug, a teasing smile twitching at your lips as you remind him of his request from earlier with a raised brow that he knocked loose with a deep, long stroke. “I thought we weren’t talking about Kian anymore.”

The look in Matty’s eye is dangerous as the name of the barista tumbles from your lips, he hums, already starting to slow down the pace of his thrusts again, already clenching around his cock to beg for more before he could even spit back. 

“And here I thought you wanted me to fuck you?” He mocks, giving you shallow thrusts now that are already driving you mad. “Can only do that if you’re a good girl and keep that smart fucking mouth of yours shut.” He emphasized with a quick snap of his hips that had your eyes betraying you and rolling back into your skull. “But I know how hard that is for you, right?” Matty coos, pouting, patronizing. “Always gotta have the last word.”

You fight to pull your arms free from his grasp, hating the way that he was able to hold both of your wrists down with just one hand, hating the way that arousal swirled in your stomach at the thought. 

Matty always knew how to get under your skin, capitalizing on the opportunity at any and every chance he could, but unlucky for him - so did you.

“Don’t believe me?” You challenge, the lies continuing to spill from your tongue as you swallow down a whimper at the feeling of him rolling his hips into you, still in a slow place. Matty scoffs, shaking his head, narrowing his eyes in preparation of what you would say next. “Maybe I should call him, then.” You hated how breathless your voice was, not giving you much of a leg to stand on as you do your best to get under his skin as he had done with you. “See if he feels like giving me what I want.”

Matty hums, finally releasing the grip he had on your wrist in favor of bringing both hands down to your hips, his fingernails digging to the flesh and sure to leave a mark as he pulls out of you slowly, his eyebrow twitching once before he was slamming back into you. A gasp rips from your throat at the animalistic way he was fucking into you now, jaw clenched and breathing heavy.

“Yeah, maybe you should call him.” Matty speaks through a tight jaw, taking a hand off of your hip in favor of using it to throw one of your legs over his shoulder, the skin on your stomach stretches at the new angle and causes the fresh outline of the unfinished tattoo to burn, you wince at the pain and it only encourages Matty further. “Let him hear what you sound like fucking purring underneath me, begging for my cock.”  

You moan, whimper, mewl at the feeling of his deep, hard strokes fucking into you in a way that had your free hands greedily finding a home against his back, digging your manicured nails into the skin of his shoulders as he rails into you, unrelenting and mind numbing. 

“You and that little fucking mouth of yours.” Matty groans, voice deeper and rougher than ever. “Makes me so fucking angry.” He emphasizes the last three words with particularly hard thrusts that you nearly drool at. “Every time you pop off something smart, all I wanna do is fill that pretty mouth of yours so you’ll shut the fuck up and learn a lesson for once.”

A guttural moan rips down from your toes as the filthy images of every single fight you and Matty had ever had ending with him making you kneel to the ground and wash your mouth out with - Your pulled from the dirty fantasy by the feeling of Matty slipping two of his fingers through the open gap in your mouth that was dropped open in pleasure. “If you don’t wanna act like a good girl, I’ll make you.”

You moan around his digits, clenching around his cock, feeling rather dizzy as the cool metal band of his Tigers eye ring rests against your swollen lip. Matty’s hips falter at the sight, groaning as you swirl your tongue around his fingers, batting your eyelashes at him and fluttering them closed when his breathing grew heavier and his thrust grew more frantic. 

“See how much better this is?” Matty speaks through breathy pants, pressing his fingers down on your tongue. “Should’ve done this ages ago.” He teases, you graze your teeth along his knuckles, his hips snapping into yours in a way that had you drooling around his fingers. “Such a fucking brat.”

You moan around his fingers, dizzy at his words, digging your manicured nails into his back at the sight of the chain around his neck swaying in your face with each passing thrust. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted you like this.” Your heart jumps at his admission, though he’s quick to deflect from real feelings. “How many times I had to stop myself from bending you over and fucking the attitude out of you, fuck.”

Matty drops his head down in a groan, addicted to the feeling of your walls throbbing and clenching around him, only lasting a few more thrusts before he was missing the sound of your voice, pulling his fingers from your mouth in favor of bring the two spit soaked digits down to your neglected, aching bundle of nerves.

Your body jolts at the pleasure that shoots through your veins as his calloused fingers swirl mind numbingly tight circles around and around and around until you feel as though your brain was melting out of your ears. 

“Matty.” You moan his name as if it’s gospel, ripped from your throat and pleading, heat swirling in your stomach and lighting your skin ablaze. 

“Admit it.” He speaks through a clenched jaw. “Tell me you were lying about Kian.” His hips snap into you with a particularly hard thrust at the other guy's name, his nostrils flaring as he stares down at you with dark, dangerous eyes. “That you only said that to make me jealous.”

Your head was shaking in disagreement before the words could even finish falling from his pink lips, not ready to admit it just yet, wanting to make him suffer for leaving you all alone in his shop without a second glance for a little while longer. 

“You sure have a big ego if you think I’d lie about something just to make you jealous.” You scoff, rolling your eyes for good measure, hoping that he couldn’t see right through your tongue full of lies as you add on for good measure. “Maybe I actually like him.”

The five words had barely fallen from your tongue before the hand that was drawing tight figure eights over your clit was being ripped away in favor of wrapping around your throat, smearing your spit and wetness all over your neck as he squeezes, fucking into you so hard that you were scooting up higher on the tattoo chair you were laid out on with every snap of his hips. 

Matty groans at the sight of his Tigers eye ring flashing in the light against your neck alongside the matching necklace that he had gifted you sitting on your chest, his hips faltering at the sight of the pair - almost feeling symbolic. He tightens his hold on your neck, effectively cutting off your air flow as he leans over you, dark eyed and intimidating. 

“Don’t make me fill that pretty mouth up again.” He warns and your lips part on instinct, he smiles at that, a wicked smile as he leans down to spit in your open mouth, melting against your tongue as your eyes roll back in a moan. Matty squeezes your windpipe one last time to emphasize. “Tell me.”

And then his hand was off of your neck, you gasp for air, deep breaths that turn into pants as Matty’s hips snap into yours rougher, harder, deeper. 

“I-I was lying.” You admit, deeming the pleasure coursing through your veins more important than your need to be stubborn. “I didn’t sleep with Kian.”

Matty hums at that, rewarding you with his calloused fingers back at your throbbing, aching bundle of nerves. Your fingernails digging into the skin of his back at the intense pleasure that coursed through your veins, building up inside of you and desperate for release. 

“Did you kiss him?” Matty asks, jaw ticking as he swirls tight circles around your clit, hips fucking into you in a way that had you desperate for the interrogation to end so you could focus on the pleasure blooming through your veins. 

“Once.” You admit, white hot shame rolls through you even though in reality, you didn’t have anything to feel guilty about. You see the way Matty’s eyebrow twitches, the way his nostrils flare, the way his hips deliver a particularly rough thrust at your honesty. “Before you.” You find yourself explaining, desperate to ease the jealousy in his bones now that he was fucking you like this, feeling more vulnerable the closer your got to your release. “I haven’t even seen him since you kissed me.”

“Good.” Matty groans, doubling his efforts on you, leaning down to fit his mouth over yours in a hungry, possessive kiss - almost as if he was trying to wipe the memory of how Kian’s lips felt against your own clear from your mind. “Should’ve been me.” Matty mumbles against your lips, tugging on your lip before pulling back, his dark eyes locking with your own. “He should have never even gotten the chance.”

“It could’ve been you.” You bite back, thinking back on your history with Matty and how much easier things could have been between the two of you if he would have just admitted the feelings he had for you instead of trying to bury them with insults and petty arguments. 

Matty nods. “From now on it will be.” He moans through the promise, kissing down the side of your neck and mumbling against the skin there. “Only me.” Your heart flutters at what he was implying, that you meant something more to him than a heat of the moment hookup, that he actually felt something real for you. ”My girl.” He mumbles against your pulse point, trailing a path of open mouth kisses down your chest. You clench around him at the feeling of his teeth pulling at the Tigers eye necklace he had gifted you, mumbling around the stone that matches the ring slid on one of the fingers that swirled around your clit. “Mine.”

Matty doubles his efforts on you, hips snapping against yours in a way that has your eyes rolling back into your skull, fingernails dragging down his back as his calloused fingers rub tight circles over your clit, driving you closer and closer to the edge. He drops your necklace from between his teeth in favor of licking a strip down your sternum, mumbling. “These drive me fucking crazy.” before his pink lips find home around a pierced nipple, only swirling around the bud once before tugging the silver metal bar between his teeth. 

You were stuck in an endless cycle of moaning Matty’s name, clenching around his cock and dragging your nails down his back, sure to break the skin and draw blood. Your skin was on fire, fighting to catch your breath, the pleasure that bloomed throughout your veins was quickly coming to a peak, desperate to snap and release. 

Matty tugs on your piercing one last time before releasing it all together, staring down at you with dark eyes full of desire and passion, his hips stuttering - letting you know that he was just as close as you were. 

“You wanna cum for me, baby?” Matty groans, the hand that wasn’t between your legs finds home against your throat, threading his fingers in the chord of your necklace before wrapping around your windpipe, squeezing.

You preen at the pet name, addicted to the way it rolled off his tongue, you nodded as best as you could with his hand wrapped around your throat.

“Yeah? Think you deserve it?” You whine, clenching around him, nodding once more - your mind starting to grow fuzzy from the lack of airflow. “Yeah, that’s right, you do deserve it. You’re such a good fucking girl, my good girl, fuck.” Matty praises, tightening his hold on your windpipe before releasing it all together. “Go on, then, baby. Cum for me, show me who you fucking belong to.”

You gasp for air as your orgasm crashes into you, falling apart almost as soon as Matty gives you the permission, your body convulsing against the tattoo chair before melting against the leather as Matty fucks you through your high. 

“Fuck, that’s it, baby.” Matty groaned, leaning back so he could watch the way that he was fucking into you. “So fucking good for me.” Your manicured nails drag down the expanse of his back as his thrusts come harder, faster, more erratic as he chases his own release. “Fuck, I’m-”

His rough voice groans through panting breaths, his fingernails digging into your hip bone as his hips falter, thrusting once, twice, three more times before pulling out of you and pumping a tattooed hand over his length until he was releasing all over his hand with a guttural groan, careful not to get any on the already irritated tattoo on your lower stomach. 

He was still fighting through a heaving chest as you reach out to grab his hand in your own, mesmerized by the sight of his cum painted over the ink, holding eye contact with Matty as you bring his hand up to your mouth and lick around his palm until it was all clean, your tongue swirling around the Tigers eye ring on his finger - the sight had a whimper falling from his bitten raw lips.

You quite liked the sound of that, suddenly feeling as though you could go for another round. You flash your clean tongue at him and his hands fall back at your hip. 

“Christ.” Matty groans, tossing his head back as he fights to get some air down to his lungs. You understood the feeling, fighting to catch your own breath, proving to be quite difficult as you watched the rapid rise and fall of Matty’s chest. He rolls his head to the side so he could get another look at you, his eyes immediately drawn to the dragonfly on your stomach. “Fuck, I didn’t finish.”

“Oh, I think you did.” You tease, giggling when Matty pinches at your hip at the awful joke. 

Matty huffs out a laugh, still trying to get his breathing back to normal as he nods down at your stomach. “I meant your tattoo.”

“Oh.” You glance down at your lower stomach, grimacing at the red, angry skin, the black outline of the dragonfly raised and irritated. “Yeah, I guess you didn’t.”

Matty hums, pinching at your hip yet again, a playful gleam in his eye. “Guess that means you’ll have to come back.”

“Oh, please.” You scoff through a laugh, rolling your eyes at his antics. “As if I don’t share a wall with you.” 

Matty shrugs, running his greedy hands aimlessly along every inch of your body, his touch softer now - not desperate or needy like before, your heart skips a beat at the feeling. 

“Fuck, we can never tell Carmen about this.” Matty fixes you with a puzzled stare, as if to convey the question unspoken. “She told me this would happen and I refuse to give her the satisfaction of being right.”

Matty’s shoulders shake through laughter, his head mirroring the action softly. “Yeah, well, while we're at it, can we not tell George either?” It was your turn to fix him with a puzzled stare, squinting your eyes ever so slightly as Matty fights off a small. “He said the same thing.”

Your laughter mixes alongside his as the two of you fall back into one another, smiling into a kiss that eventually faded into one that was much more slower than any kiss you had ever shared with Matty. Any other one had been hungry, rushed, dirty but this one was different - soft, tender, real. 

It made you feel alive. 

You missed the feeling as soon as it was gone, your eyes fluttering open to glance up at Matty who was already staring down at you, your heart skipping a beat at the sight. You reach out to rest your palm against his face, thumbing his cheek, having to touch him to ensure that he was actually real and this wasn’t all just some sick and twisted dream. Matty leans into your hand, kissing the side of it, proving that he was real - that this was real. 

You couldn’t help but be vulnerable.

“Please don’t run away this time.” You find yourself begging, almost in a whisper, swallowing down the nerves that threaten to climb your throat at the thought of coming into work tomorrow and Matty’s shop being closed permanently this time. 

“I won’t.” Matty assures you, shaking his head at the idea, bringing a hand up to cover the one you had resting on his cheek, squeezing it as he looks at you more seriously. “I promise, okay? No more bullshit.” You nod, swallowing down the lump in your throat, heart swelling as Matty leans down to kiss you softly, mumbling against your lips. “I want to give this a real shot.” Kissing you once more before leaning back to look at you, the faintest tint of pink on his cheeks. “If you’ll have me.”

You giggle, using the hand on his face as leverage to pull him back down into you in a kiss that was really not much more than the two of you smiling against one another, shaking your head softly at how stupid the two of you had been over the past year. 

Matty pulls away to stare at you expectantly, making you realize that you hadn’t really given him a real answer, you knock your knee against his hip in a way that feels all too familiar as you roll your eyes in a playful manner, teasing as you sigh. “God, at least take me to dinner first.”

“Okay.” Matty huffs out a laugh, leaning back down to kiss you again, addicted to the feeling of your lips against his own, mumbling into your mouth. “You got it.” You hum, threading your fingers through your hair and ready to melt back into him, nearly pouting when Matty pulls back to fix you with a pointed look. “As long as it’s not a vegan restaurant.”

You couldn’t help the laughter that poured out of you, tugging on his hair to bring him back into you, nodding your head through a smile as you whisper. “Deal.”

—

You walk down the sidewalk, sipping on an iced coffee in your hand and humming along aimlessly to a song that had been stuck in your head ever since you woke up. 

It was a Friday, the middle of May, not a cloud in the sky. 

You rest the plastic cup that you had been sipping out of in the crook of your elbow as you reach out to open the glass door of 102 Tattoo, the chimes at the top of the door ring out over the low music that hummed from the speaker. A boy with hair as dark as his clothes, shaved at the sides and leaving a thick strip of hair down the middle, glances over his shoulder - a bright smile breaking out over his face at the sight of you. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey.” You smile, walking across the all too familiar flooring of the tattoo shop, over to where Matty was currently leaned over and in the middle of tattooing someone - George. You shoot the brunette a small smile, waving as best as you could with both hands full. You stand behind Matty and he is quick to lean back against your frame. “Thought you could use a little pick me up.” 

You shake the ice around in the plastic cup, drawing Matty’s attention away from the line work on George’s leg. 

“Oh, I love you so much.” Matty draws the words out, resting his head back against your stomach as you lower the cup so he could take a sip from the straw, knowing that he couldn’t grab the coffee with his gloved hands that were currently still holding the tattoo gun. You thread fingers through his hair, staring down at him and your heart skips a beat when he tilts his head back against your stomach so he could get a better look at you, pursing his lips in a way that had your cheeks painted pink as you lean down to press your lips against his own in the upside down position. “Thank you.”

George’s groan breaks the two of you apart, sending the two of you into a fit of laughter. “I didn’t know I was going to be subject to watching a porno while getting a tattoo done.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes as Matty fixes George with a pointed look, flipping his friend off before getting back to work. 

You twist your body to rest the coffee down on the counter next to you, peering over Matty’s frame in an attempt to see what George was getting done. “How’s the tattoo going?”

“Hurts.” George grumbles and Matty rolls his eyes.  

“He’s being dramatic.” Matty scoffs, teasing, tilting his head to the side before leaning down to shade an area he had forgotten before. “It’s not that bad.”

“Dramatic?” George all but gasps, glancing over at you to confirm. “It fucking hurts.” Before looking back down at Matty who was too fixated on shading between the lines he had previously tattooed to pay him any mind. “And do you tell her she’s being dramatic when she’s getting a tattoo done?”

“‘Course not.” Matty shrugs, glancing up at George and fixing his friend with a smug smile before defending himself. “She’s pretty.”

The flush on your cheeks deepen as you roll your eyes at their antics. “Alright, you two, that’s enough.” You gently scold, glancing down at George’s leg. “You almost done?”

“Yeah, just got a little more shading left.” Matty mumbles, his dark eyes hyper fixated on making sure that he hadn’t missed any other spot. “Shouldn’t be too long.”

“Okay, I’ll just go wait over there.” You decide, massaging his scalp with your manicured nails for a split second before unthreading your fingers from his hair all together.

You step away from your boyfriend in favor of making your way over to the couch near the window, plopping yourself down on it and making yourself at home, glancing around the shop and reminiscing on how different 102 Tattoo looked now compared to a year ago. 

The shelves on the wall that had been scattered with random trinkets now had various crystal carvings thrown in between the empty space of the objects that already lived there. The shop was more green than before, various types of plants sitting in the windowsill, hanging from the ceiling and tossed in the corners - mixing well with the black walls and decor from before. The bohemian style rug that laid under his tattoo chair, contrasting against the grey concrete from before.

102 Tattoo seemed to be a perfect representation of the two of you, and the best part was that you had absolutely nothing to do with any of it. Matty had made all of the changes on his own slowly over the year that the two of you had been together, claiming that the new decor helped him feel close to you while he was at work - ironic considering the two of you shared a wall. 

You were so wrapped up in looking at the different vinyl covers hung up on the wall, blushing when you noticed a few of your own favorite albums scattered amongst his own, that George’s voice so close to you startled you. 

“I’m glad I got to see you.” You focus your eyes on the brunette before you, accepting the hug that he was offering to you. “Even if it was just for a little bit.” You return the sentiment, glancing down at his leg in hopes to see the new tattoo Matty had just finished, confused when you saw it already wrapped up. “Yeah, your boyfriend didn’t even let me take a picture of it first.” He scoffs and you giggle, rolling your eyes. “Think he’s ready for me to fuck off so he can have you all to himself.”

“I am.” Matty calls out from across the shop, glancing over at the two of you with a playful smile as he cleans up his area. “Fuck off.”

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving.” George mumbles, holding his hands up in defense. “I’ll see you both on Saturday, yeah? Half priced drinks down at Lucky’s. I’m trying to get sloshed.” Smiling when the two of you confirm the plan. “Alright, I’ll fuck off then, see you Saturday.” His long legs carried him over towards the front door of 102 Tattoo, lingering on the handle to call over his shoulder before leaving the building. “Please don’t fuck on the counter.”

Your laughter mixes with the chimes at the top of Matty’s door as George walks out without another word, shaking your head softly as you stand up off the couch and make your way over to your boyfriend who had just finished cleaning up, glancing over at you before tossing the paper towels in his hands into the trash. 

“So, what do you say?” Matty mumbles, turning his attention solely on you, crossing his tattooed arms over his chest and wiggling his eyebrows. “Should we fuck on the counter?”

You snort through a laugh, hitting him softly on the arm as you roll your eyes before reminding him. “Poppy’s birthday is tomorrow.”

Matty nods. “I know.” His eyebrows furrowed together as he teases. “Not quite sure why you’re bringing my sister up while I’m trying to get in your pants, but.”

You reach out to hit his arm once more, shaking your head. “And did you get your sister a gift?”

“Yeah, ‘course I did.” Matty shrugs, eyes shifting to the floor to avoid the way you were staring at him as if you already knew the answer. “Fine.” He sighs, bringing his eyes back to meet your own. “I was sort of relying on you for that.”

“Some things never change.” You tease, rolling your eyes playfully as you turn on your heels and start to walk towards the glass door of 102 Tattoo, turning over your shoulder to call after him. “Come with me.”

Though you didn’t even have to instruct him, Matty was already on your heels, following you like a lost puppy as you walked out of his tattoo shop and into Seven Wonders. Matty didn’t stick out so bad in the space of your crystal shop anymore, some of his artwork hung up on your walls, an ashtray of his sitting on your orange countertop, little reminders of him littered throughout the space. 

You stand in the middle of your shop, glancing around the space as you try to decide which section to tackle first. Matty stands behind you, sliding his arms around your waist, kissing the top of your head before mumbling into your hair. “So, what are you thinking?” 

Your eyes scan over the shelf full of various tarot card decks and suddenly, you couldn’t help but allow the déjà vu to wash over you, memories of the two of you in this very shop a year ago - trying to decide on a birthday gift for his sister. 

“How much has changed.” Your voice is soft, not answering his question in the way that he meant it, turning around in his arms to face your boyfriend who was looking down at you with a puzzled gaze. “I mean, we were barely even friends a year ago, sitting up on that counter and trying to find a way to talk to one another without ripping each other's heads off.”

“Hey, speak for yourself, it wasn’t your head I wanted to rip off.” Matty teases with a raised brow, you giggle, hitting his chest softly, watching the way he turns his head to glance at your orange counter. “Yeah, if I remember correctly, you had insisted on reading my fortune.” Matty grumbles. “Which ended up being terrible, by the way.”

A breath of laughter falls from your nose as you think back on the cards you had pulled for Matty, how well they all seemed to fit, all three of them. You knock your foot against his own, threading your fingers in his dark hair. “They weren’t all terrible.”

“No.” Matty smiles easily, pinching your hip. “It is a bit crazy to think about though, huh?” Matty huffs out a laugh. “How hard everyone was rooting for us.” He trails off. “Carmen, George, Poppy, The Universe. I mean, what are the odds that we both pull The Lovers card, right?”

Your stomach flips at the memory of the air knocked from your lungs when you had flipped Matty’s last tarot card over and it was the same one you had pulled for yourself previously. The same card that ended up being stuck to the bottom of your shoe after what was almost a moment between you and Matty, knowing in the moment that the two of you pulling the card was no coincidence - just as sure as you were now staring into his eyes. 

“I mean, that’s got to be some sort of cosmic pull or something.” Matty comments, trying to search for the right word, his eyes gleaming when he finds it. “Kinda like fate.”

Your heart flutters at his choice of wording, the same three words he had said to you on the very first day the two of you had met after sliding the Tigers eye ring onto his finger. 

Two strangers who never quite felt like strangers at all, teasing banter over knocked knees and pink cheeks, stealing glances at the other in moments where you thought you wouldn’t be caught. 

You had always trusted that the universe had a plan. 

A plan that you had never doubted, not even once, even when the universe took your world and flipped it completely upside down.

And as you stood in the middle of Seven Wonders, wrapped up in the tattooed arms of your boyfriend, the same ring that he fell in love with on the first day you met him still sitting proudly on the hand that pinched at your hip - you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you found yourself breathlessly agreeing. “Yeah, like fate.”  

[lonesome--street]

[celestialgallaghers]

Double Dare Ya pt 2 [18+]

Part 1

I’m sorry this took so long I kept changing my mind on where I wanted it to go. I hope you enjoy <3

Summary: Still reeling from your encounter with Noel, you find yourself not wanting to see him again. That is, until you run into him in a place you really should've expected, now face to face with the memory that’s been haunting you.

Word count: 7.6k

--------------------------------------------------------

You paced the length of your flat, chewing at your thumbnail. You weren’t entirely sure why you felt this way. 

Well, maybe a little. 

Jo already knew, obviously. She’d guessed as much. But that wasn’t what had you on edge.

It was what came next.

She’d want to talk about it. Pick it apart. Ask you how you felt. And a week after the incident, you still didn’t have an answer.

What you did know was that you felt guilty. You’d been avoiding her calls for days and it was starting to weigh on you.

Soon after she’d caught you, she had her little "told you so" moment, but the second she started prying, you shut down. You’d barely been able to process it yourself, let alone talk about it. Instead, you mumbled a half-assed promise to talk soon and basically ran all the way home without saying another word to anyone.

But now, after days of radio silence, you had no excuse.

Taking a deep breath, you picked up the receiver and dialed her number. 

"Finally," Jo answered on the first ring, exasperation evident. "I was about to send a search and rescue team to make sure you were still alive."

You winced. "I know, I know. I’m sorry. I should've called sooner, I just… didn’t really know what to say. And I still don’t, so don’t expect much," you warned.

You could practically hear the smug smile in her voice as she waited for you to continue.

Then, a sudden realization struck, sending a wave of panic over you. You weren’t her only source of information in this situation. 

"You… uh, didn’t talk to him about this, did you?" you asked hesitantly.

"Noel?" she half-laughed. "No, I trust you way more to tell me the truth."

Your pulse slowed, but only slightly. At least that was one less thing to worry about.

"But," she continued, "I did see him briefly, a few hours after you left. Completely off his head with some other bird, doing god knows what." She huffed. "Sorry." 

She added it as an afterthought, as if you’d be hurt by this information.

"No, no, it’s not like that at all," you said quickly. "This was just a one-time thing. I really couldn’t care less who he’s screwing."

It was easier that way. Knowing it wasn’t a big deal to him. And yet, somewhere deep in the back of your mind, there was a flicker of something that you didn’t want to name. It was quickly smothered.

"I think I just want to put the whole thing behind me," you said, hoping to make it sound final. "Chalk it up to a moment of weakness."

She was quiet for a moment. "Really? Well that’s a shame. I think you two would get on well."

You huffed out a laugh, trying hard to downplay her words. "I think I’ve had enough of your matchmaking, thanks."

Silence stretched between you. She was obviously waiting for you to continue.

You twirled the phone cord between your fingers anxiously. "So, um, I guess you already know what happened, but I don’t really know where to start and I know you have questions so—" 

"You sucked him off, right?" she cut in bluntly.

You choked. "Well, no, I—"

She gasped. "Oh my God, you fucked him? Right in that dirty field? You little slut!"

"Christ, let me finish," you groaned, pressing your fingers to your temples. "I just gave him a handy. That’s all."

God, what was happening? You weren’t a prude by any means, but just saying the words out loud made your face burn like you were confessing some deep, filthy secret.

"Oh, that’s all is it?" she teased, amused by your flusteredness. "Must not have been a good one if he was fishing for more after."

"Oh, shut up," you shot back. "It was good enough."

"Was it?" she prodded, clearly fishing for more.

You hesitated. "Yes it was." 

Flashes of Noel’s trembling body beneath you surfaced in your mind, unbidden. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing them away.

"And that’s all you’re getting," you added firmly.

She tsked. "What’s the point of having girlfriends if we can’t talk about how men are in the sack?"

You sighed. "This is different, and you know it. He’s… well, him. And you’re friends with him too. It doesn’t feel right."

And while you knew Noel didn’t exactly shy away from bragging about his sex romps, something told you that whatever happened in that field wasn’t exactly routine for him. Or at least you thought so. Although you could be entirely wrong. You barely knew him for fucks sake. 

Either way, the idea of sharing the details didn’t sit right with you. Jo could keep a secret, sure. But still… you didn’t want to tell her.

"Then what’s the point of even calling me?" she grumbled.

"Fine," you huffed. You had to placate her in some way. "All you’re getting is that he’s a good kisser. Spread the word I’m sure it’d inflate his ego even more," you said dryly.

She sighed dramatically. "Fine. D’you think you want to see him again?"

You bit your lip. You didn’t really know the answer to that. 

The logical answer was no. You should avoid him. Avoid every place he might be. The idea of facing him again made your stomach churn. Would it be awkward? Would he act smug about it? Or worse—would he brush it off completely?

And yet another part of you was saying yes. Because what if he wanted more? The thought had never fully formed before now, but the moment it did, it burrowed deep. The whole thing had been amusing and incredibly filthy. 

But would he want it again?

Would you?

It seemed impossible. He was famous. He did this all the time, didn’t he? It was meaningless. That’s what you should believe.

And yet, that glimmer of vulnerability, of realness, it had enthralled you much more than you would've liked to admit. 

Not that you’d ever admit that to Jo.

"I don’t know," you admitted. "I don’t think so."

"Why not?"

"It’s…too confusing. Like I said, it was just a one-time thing." 

She was quiet for a moment. Like she was holding back her disappointment. 

"Well, I’m not gonna force you," she said, "but I think you should reconsider."

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "Jo."

"All I’m saying is that you guys would—"

"Jo, I’m hanging up now."

"Wait!" was all you heard before you slammed the phone back onto the receiver, exhaling sharply.

Fucking hell what had you gotten yourself into.

❦ ❦ ❦

True to your word, you became hyper-aware of everywhere you went. 

The city was massive yet it suddenly felt suffocating, like you were navigating a minefield. No matter how much you tried to avoid him, Oasis was inescapable. Their songs followed you into every shop, their faces stared back at you from every magazine stand. It was maddening. Everywhere you turned, there he was. A reminder of that night. It was like the universe was playing some cruel joke on you.

One night, you flicked on the telly only to be met with Noel’s face. He was on some late-night interview show, sprawled lazily in his seat, exuding that signature self-assurance. Your thumb hovered over the remote, hesitating. Watching him now, it almost felt like you knew something about him that no one else did. Because for all his bravado, for all his sharp words and easy smirks, he was actually quite malleable. Quick to break if you knew where to apply the right pressure. 

Then, as if on cue, he flashed the camera a crooked smile, and for a moment all you could think about were the broken moans that had fallen from that very mouth. The weight of him in your hand. The way he had unraveled beneath you. 

A flush of heat curled in your stomach, creeping lower before you could stop it. 

With a sharp inhale, you grabbed the remote and switched off the TV, tossing it aside like it had burned you.

You needed to get a fucking grip.

Nights out had become a hassle too. 

Jo kept trying to drag you along, promising Noel wouldn’t be there, but you didn’t want to tempt fate. No matter how much you didn’t want to, you spent night after night in your flat, drinking alone, watching trashy TV with a scowl on your face. You knew you couldn’t keep this up forever, but it needed to blow over before you were less on edge. 

Yesterday, though, Jo had finally lost her patience.

"I don’t understand what’s so bad about what happened that you won’t even face him. This is starting to get a bit ridiculous. You're gonna have to come out of hiding at some point."

She was right of course. What was so bad about it? You were starting to feel too much like a coward. 

Her words still rang in your mind tonight. And after one too many glasses of wine, irritation was starting to creep in.

Why the hell were you letting him dictate your life like this? You’d spent weeks holed up like some estranged recluse, avoiding places you used to love. And for what? Noel fucking Gallagher?

It was pathetic really. And you were over it. 

Before you could overthink it, you were rifling through your closet, yanking out the most flattering dress you owned. Twenty minutes later, you were out on the streets, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. Like shedding an old skin. A rebirth. A good fuck would be just the thing to snap you out of this.

You hadn’t even registered where your feet were taking you until you found yourself outside the same club where this whole mess with Noel had started. 

Well. If there was ever a place to begin again, this was as good as any.

The fleeting thought that he might be inside entered your mind, but you ignored it. You were too determined to care. And besides fuck him. You didn’t owe him anything.

It didn’t take long before a man approached you. He was attractive enough, at least for what you needed tonight. When he offered to buy you a drink, you let him. You laid it on thick—laughing at his mediocre jokes, brushing your knees together, a coy smile curving your lips.

When he asked you to dance, you didn’t hesitate. This new version of you liked dancing. For a while, you let yourself melt into the music, let the bass vibrate through your bones, let the alcohol dull the edges of everything sharp.

His body was pressed against yours, radiating heat and hands roaming. It was making you feel alive. Letting yourself revel in the heady mix of sweat, liquor, and fleeting affection. It felt good. It felt easy. 

You were breathless and flushed, and when he leaned down and asked if you wanted to get out of there, you agreed without a second thought.

The two of you stumbled through the club, laughter bubbling in your throat as you leaned into him, ready to disappear into the night. But the moment shattered when you rounded the corner and collided heavily with another pair of bodies.

"Watch it, cunt," he voice was sharp, impatient. Familiar.

Your stomach plummeted.

Noel.

His eyes locked onto yours, and you felt rooted to the spot. Your mind was suddenly infuriatingly blank. For all the time you’d spent avoiding him, you hadn’t once considered what you’d say if you actually saw him again.

For a fleeting second, something unreadable flickered across his face. Was he thinking the same thing? Or had you not even crossed his mind since that night?

"Sorry mate," the man beside you muttered, breaking you out of your sudden trance. You’d nearly forgotten he was there. His arm slipped around your waist, and the touch suddenly felt like acid burning your skin. 

Noel’s gaze flicked down, tracking the movement. His jaw tightened just slightly, just enough for you to see it if you were looking. And you were looking.

You forced yourself to look elsewhere. That’s when you noticed he wasn’t alone. A brunette clung to him. Not the same one as last time, but close enough. 

Right. 

This was what he did. Moved from one woman to the next like it meant nothing.

Again the irritation flared hot in your chest. Now you remembered why you were avoiding him.

"Noel," you greeted smoothly, summoning every ounce of detachment you had.

His lips curled into something smug, his usual arrogance snapping back into place. "Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again, love."

"Yeah, well," you tilted your head, mirroring his smugness. "Let’s hope this is the last time."

His eyebrows lifted slightly, amusement glinting in his eyes as his gaze dragged over you before flicking dismissively to the man at your side.

"Enjoy her, mate," he said, voice light but laced with something else. "She’s a right good time."

Then he winked at you and sauntered off, pulling his brunette along with him.

You exhaled sharply, tempted to grab the nearest object and hurl it at the back of his head. 

So that was it then.

"Was that Noel Gallagher?" The guy beside you squinted after him. "Do you know him?"

You clenched your jaw. "Not really."

He studied you for a moment before adding, almost absently, "Y’know, you kinda look like that girl he was with."

Something twisted violently inside you. Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked away.

"Hey, wait! Where are you going?"

You ignored him. His voice sharpened behind you, something ugly creeping into his tone, but you didn’t stop. You just kept moving, his thick Mancunian accent you hadn’t noticed before faded into background noise.

This had been a stupid idea. A really, really stupid idea. 

Gripping the edges of the sink, you stared at yourself in the club’s bathroom mirror, swaying slightly. The fluorescent lights cast sharp shadows across your face, making you look as wrecked as you suddenly felt.

You exhaled hard, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. The night had gone sideways. Now you were just drunk and alone. Again.

You reckoned you should probably go home, but your limbs felt restless, skin too hot, mind buzzing with unspent frustration.

With a heavy sigh, you pushed open the door and stepped back into the hallway. 

As you passed the exit leading to the alley, your eyes caught on it for a moment.

What the hell might as well. It was hallowed ground now.

You pushed the door open, welcoming the rush of cool air. You had just wrapped your fingers around your pack when a voice cut through the quiet.

"Where’d your man go?"

You froze. 

No fucking way. 

Sure enough, Noel emerged from the shadows, cigarette perched between his lips, the ember casting a faint glow over his face.

You scoffed, shaking your head as you tried to suppress the aggravation rising in your chest. "Where’s your model?"

"Sent her home." he replied easily, smoke curling from his lips.

You considered walking away. That would be the smart thing to do. You didn’t need to stand here and entertain his bullshit. But there was just enough alcohol in your system, just enough lingering frustration in your chest, to make you stay. To push back.

"Were you waiting out here for me?" you accused, narrowing your eyes at him.

A slow smile tugged at his lips. "Maybe." He shrugged, taking another drag. "Thought it was worth a shot."

Oh. You hadn’t expected him to be upfront about it. Something about the way he said it so casually made it worse. Like he already knew you wouldn’t walk away. And you knew it too.

His gaze dragged down your body, eyes lingering in a way that sent a prickle of heat across your skin. 

"S’nice dress."

"Thanks, I was dying for your approval," you deadpanned.

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, unfazed. "So, what brings you back here tonight?"

"Same thing as you, I presume."

His brows lifted. "What, him?" He jerked his head toward the club. "C’mon. You can do much better than that."

"Oh yeah? Like what, you?" you said, not even considering the implications until the words were out of your mouth. 

His grin widened, all teeth, all ego. He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, you said it. Not me."

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. "Jesus, do you ever stop?"

"Stop what?"

"Deflecting. Acting like nothing ever gets to you," you said, folding your arms. "Like you're untouchable."

His smirk didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes.

"And what, you think you’ve got me all figured out, yeah?"

"I think you're exhausting."

He let out a low chuckle. "Yeah, well. Can’t win ‘em all."

You narrowed your eyes. "So that’s it? That’s the whole act?"

"Dunno what you mean."

"Yes, you do," you pressed. "This little performance you put on is bullshit. You always go on about how real you are, but this—this is fake as fuck. And I can’t believe more people don’t see through it."

Something flashed in his gaze. It was subtle, but it was there. He took a slow drag, exhaling through his nose, like he was buying himself time.

"And what if there’s nothin’ to see through?" His voice was even, but there was an edge to it now. "What if this is just who I am? Arrogant cunt."

You studied him, trying to pick apart the layers he kept so tightly wound. He was good at this. Keeping people at arm’s length, at never letting anyone see past the smirk.

But you'd seen something else.

You tilted your head slightly, voice quieter now. "No. I know that’s not entirely true."

His amusement faltered, just slightly. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I happened to really like the version of Noel I met in that field."

His expression flickered again. And for the first time since this conversation started, he didn’t have a response ready.

His mouth opened slightly, then shut. He inhaled deeply, tapping ash from his cigarette, gaze flicking away for just a second.

"And which version was that?" His voice was different now. Lower. Cautious.

Your stomach flipped.

There were two versions, weren’t there? The one who had been laid-back, at ease, warm in a way that had caught you off guard. And then the other one. The one who had let you undo him completely. The one you couldn’t stop thinking about, no matter how hard you tried.

The silence between you was tight, buzzing. A question waiting to be answered.

You weren’t sure if he wanted to go there. If he wanted to acknowledge what had happened. Or if he’d rather let it fade into nothing.

There was really only one way to find out. 

You swallowed before speaking. "You know which one." Your voice was lower now. Careful. Calculated. Just in case he chose to pretend he didn’t hear the subtext.

His gaze flitted away for the briefest moment, like he was considering his next move, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to acknowledge it. When he looked back at you, something in his expression had shifted. Less cocky, more guarded.

You grinned. "What? No witty comeback?" You stepped closer, emboldened by his silence. The longer he stayed quiet, the bigger your smile grew.

The cigarette between his fingers hung idly, forgotten. You reached out, plucking it from his hand before bringing it to your lips, dragging slowly. Your fingers barely brushed, but the contact sent a spark skittering up your arm.

He watched you silently, his expression unreadable. Even as you blew the smoke directly into his face, he barely reacted. He just kept his eyes on you, like he was working something out in his head. 

Then, like he’d been holding it in for too long, he asked, "Why’d you run off?"

Now it was your turn to be thrown. You hadn’t expected him to confront you on that. 

Why had you run? Because staying had felt like stepping off a ledge. Because the weight of the moment had pressed too hard against your ribs, and the uncertainty had been suffocating. 

What would he have said afterward? Would he have just rolled over, lit a cigarette, and acted like it was nothing? The fear of the unknown had sent you running before he had the chance to make you regret staying.

But you weren’t about to tell him that.

You took another drag, letting the smoke linger in your lungs, buying yourself a few extra seconds before responding. 

"Look, I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of groupies overstay their welcome. I just figured I’d make things easier for you by leaving before you had to ask me to, okay?"

He stared at you for a long moment. 

"I don’t think of you as a groupie," he said finally.

You narrowed your eyes. "Don’t you?"

He exhaled a soft laugh, shaking his head. "No groupies don’t usually make me work this hard."

You raised a brow. "Is that what this is? Work?"

He tilted his head slightly, considering you. "Let’s just say you’re not making it easy for me."

You weren’t sure why, but that response sent something sharp and unexpected through you. Maybe because it felt dangerously close to admitting something.

Silence settled between you, thick with something unspoken. The air between you had become charged and neither of you seemed to know where to go from here.

You took one final drag on his cigarette before flicking it away, the ember sparking briefly against the pavement.

At some point the space between you had shrunk, unconsciously drifting toward each other. It was like he had some sort of magnetic field that you’d gotten pulled into. And now you were now stuck in it. 

Your gaze lifted to his. He was already watching you, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

You parted your lips slightly, but no words came out.

His gaze dipped to your mouth. Then back up. 

Your heart pounded.

Oh, fuck it. 

You closed the shrinking gap and kissed him.

He responded instantly. His hand slid to your back, pulling you against him, the heat of his body searing through the thin layers of fabric between you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, and the noise it pulled from him, deep and needy, sent something sharp and electric surging through you.

He tasted just like you remembered. Or maybe better. Just as intoxicating, just as addictive.

At first he seemed tentative, unsure. But then he melted into it, kissing you back with a quiet urgency that made your knees weak.

"I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you," he gasped against your lips.

Heat flared in your chest. And something else. Something akin to pride.

"Me either," you admitted, voice just above a whisper.

You felt him smirk. "Oh really?"

"Yeah." Your fingers tightened around his waist, pulling him closer. "But don’t let it go to your head."

You deepened the kiss, swallowing the groan that slipped from him. The sound sent a shiver straight through you, and fuck you wanted more of it. More of him.

You nipped at his lower lip just to hear him again. Another soft noise escaped him, and you drank it in greedily.

Now you knew. Knew where you could take him. And god you wanted to see it again.

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, your grip on his waist tightening. "Come back to mine."

A slow, knowing smile spread across his face before you turned, making your way down the alley.

He followed.

The ride back to your flat had been…eventful. 

Noel had called his driver, and the two of you had slipped into the backseat, your legs brushing together. Neither of you spoke at first, but the silence was thick, pulsing with something electric, something inevitable.

Then his hand found your knee.

His touch was barely there, but you felt the weight of it hit you hard. A jolt of heat shot through you as he began rubbing small circles against you.

That was it.

Before you could stop yourself, you turned to him, capturing his mouth with yours in a kiss that sent him back against the seat.

He barely had a second to react before you were climbing into his lap, fingers diving into his hair. His hands shot to your waist, gripping hard. The feel of him beneath you again was dizzying, sending heat rushing straight to your core.

A low moan slipped from his throat as your weight settled over him. His fingers tightened, digging into your ass, pulling you flush against him. 

"This dress," he groaned against your lips. "God."

You smirked, lips brushing his as you teased, "You like it?"

His breath was ragged as he rasped, "So much."

You leaned in, dragging open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, down the column of his throat. His skin was warm against your lips, his pulse wild beneath your touch. He shuddered when you reached the spot where his neck met his shoulder, grinning to yourself before biting down, just enough to make him gasp.

His grip on you tightened. His body tensed.

And then—

The car jerked to a stop, sending you both lurching forward.

You let out a quiet curse, quickly sliding off his lap as the driver cleared his throat from the front. 

Face burning, you smoothed down your dress, stealing a glance at Noel. He was still slumped back, breathing heavily, hair a mess, lips wet and parted.

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes dark as they watched you.

Neither of you spoke as you stumbled out of the car and into your building, the silence thick with anticipation, charged with everything you hadn’t said.

Now, standing in the middle of your flat, the reality of the moment sank in. The mess you’d left behind suddenly felt glaring—clothes draped over chairs, an empty wine glass perched precariously on the coffee table.

But Noel didn’t seem to notice. Or care.

His eyes were on you. Watching. Taking you in.

Then they lifted, met yours, and held.

"Hi," you breathed, suddenly shy in a way that felt ridiculous after everything that had just happened.

"Hi," he murmured back.

And then he was on you again, pulling you into a slow, deliberate kiss. It was different from before. Less frantic, more controlled. Like he wanted to take his time.

You let him take the lead this time, curious to see where it would go.

He backed you against the wall, his hand cupping your jaw, thumb brushing lightly over your cheek, while the other found its way to your waist. His grip was firm, grounding. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself as he deepened the kiss, tongue brushing over yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

He seemed much less overwhelmed this time. More sure of himself. And, god, it was sexy.

Not that the other version of him wasn’t, but you were beginning to understand why he had a reputation for this. 

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, attempting to regain some semblance of composure. "So… is this your move then?" you teased, though your voice was slightly uneven.

His lips ghosted over your jaw as he hummed, "What move would that be, love?"

You swallowed, heartbeat unsteady. "Oh, come on. You know. The one that drives all the girls mad with desire." You tried to sound mocking, but it barely landed.

He chuckled, low and knowing. "Depends." His thumb stroked idly along your cheek. "Do you feel mad with desire?"

Your pulse stuttered. You hated how good he was at this.

"I bet you’d just love for me to say yes, wouldn’t you?" you challenged.

"You will," he said, completely self-assured.

Then, he dipped his head, lips grazing over the curve of your neck.

You sucked in a sharp breath, body tensing as he found a particularly sensitive spot. He lingered there, lips warm, tongue darting out just slightly. Testing. Teasing.

You could feel his smirk against your skin.

And then he bit down. Not hard, but just enough. Enough to send a shock straight through you.

A strangled sound tore from your throat before you could stop it.

Noel pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your eyes, a smug look settling on his face.

"Bastard," you muttered, though there was no real heat behind it.

He only grinned, unbothered, before moving to the other side of your neck, continuing his slow, torturous assault.

You pressed your lips together, refusing to give him the satisfaction of another noise. But then, one particularly well-placed kiss just below your ear had a soft whine slipping out before you could stop it.

Noel pulled back again, eyes dark, lips wet.

"Feeling mad yet?"

You exhaled sharply, realization hitting you. This was payback. For last time. You were going to have to admit to something if this was going to continue. And god you wanted it to continue. 

"Absolutely barmy," you muttered, conceding just this once.

His smirk widened before his lips crashed onto yours again, this time with a heated urgency that made you lightheaded. Your hands roamed him, desperate to feel as much as you could.

You weren’t sure how this would end, but right now you didn’t care. You just wanted more.

You pulled him toward your bed, kicking off your shoes, heat pooling low in your stomach as he pressed his body flush against yours. His breath was heavy, lips brushing along your jaw as his hands skimmed down your sides.

He exhaled a quiet laugh. "I haven’t been able to stop thinking about touching you. You didn’t let me get a turn last time." 

Your stomach tightened, heat licking up your spine. You tilted your head, lips grazing the shell of his ear. "Then you’d better make the most of it, yeah?"

A low sound rumbled in his chest, his grip tightening on your hips as he pushed you back onto the mattress, covering you with his body. His fingers traced the curve of your jaw, his gaze dark and searching.

"You always such a tease?" His voice was low, almost accusing.

You smirked, fingers threading through his hair. "You always so easy?"

For a second, you let yourself soak in the weight of him, the heat rolling off his skin, the way his breathing had shifted. Then, with a slow grin, you flipped him onto his back and straddled his hips.

A surprised sound escaped him, low and unguarded. His hands instinctively found your waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress. The shift left only the thin barrier of your underwear between your aching core and the rough denim of his jeans. The friction sent a delicious shiver up your spine, your breath catching in your throat.

Noel shuddered beneath you. For a moment you wondered if he wasn’t comfortable with this dynamic again. But when you met his gaze, you searched his eyes for any hint. There was no sign of hesitation, no resistance—just raw, unfiltered desire. The realization sent a fresh wave of heat surging through you. 

You leaned down, pressing slow kisses along his jaw, trailing down his neck as your fingers worked open the buttons of his shirt. When it fell open, you let your nails drag lightly up his chest, reveling in the way his breath stuttered.

Then, unable to help yourself, you brushed a thumb over one of his nipples just to see what he’d do.

A strangled groan tore from his throat, his head tipping back against the pillows. The sound, deep and wrecked, sent a sharp pulse straight between your legs.

You were mesmerized. You needed to hear more. You moved to the other, teasing it with the same deliberate touch.

This time, the noise that left him was broken, raw, coming from somewhere deep inside him. The sound sent sharp heat twisting through you, your clit jumping at the noise. The need was possessing you, urging you to draw more out. 

You bent to kiss down his heaving chest. You couldn’t resist flicking your tongue over the hardened bud. This time his hand flew to your hair, and a breathless, high-pitched noise escaped him.

"Fuck—" His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "Please, I... I can't—"

"I know you can," you spoke against his skin, trailing your lips lower, down his stomach.

He shivered beneath you, body taut with tension. His breath came in uneven, shallow gasps, and you relished every single one.

You traced your fingers over the sensitive skin just above his belt, feeling him tense beneath you. Then, dazedly, you murmured against his stomach, "Do you let other people see you like this?"

His breath hitched. "Not often," he admitted, voice strained. "Doesn’t fit the image."

"Shame." You pressed an open-mouthed kiss just above his waistband. "You’re so pretty like this."

A weak laugh escaped him, breathless. "Pretty. That’s a new one."

You glanced up at him, your fingers toying with his belt. "But you are. And the noises you make are also so, so pretty."

He exhaled sharply, like your words had knocked the wind out of him.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me," he muttered, voice wrecked, desperate.

You grinned, trailing your fingers lower. "Oh, I think I have some idea."

You pressed your palm against the bulge beneath his jeans, feeling him jolt beneath you.

You reached for his zipper, hands eager, impatient. The rasp of metal sounded loud in the quiet room as you shoved his jeans down, dragging them off with no pretense.

Then your eyes landed on him.

The thick strain against his boxers, the way a damp patch was spreading at the front. Your mouth went completely dry.

Noel was panting now, his chest rising and falling in ragged gasps. "Love, you need to—"

His words were cut off by a strangled moan the second your fingers traced over him, pressing just enough to make him twitch beneath your touch.

You exhaled sharply, warmth pooling low in your stomach. He was right there in front of you, already leaking through the fabric, the evidence of his need making you lightheaded. Your breath ghosted over him before you leaned in, brushing your lips over the damp spot.

Then, with a slow pull, you closed your mouth around it, sucking gently through the fabric.

Noel let out a ragged curse, his hips jerking up against you. "Fuck."

The desperation in his voice sent a fresh wave of arousal straight through you.

Hooking your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, you dragged them down, drinking in the sight of him. The way his cock bobbed, standing heavy against his stomach, had something hot and primal unraveling inside you.

A small, unguarded whimper escaped him, his hands clenching into the sheets so tightly his knuckles went white.

You flicked your tongue over the bead of precum gathering at his tip, tasting the saltiness of him.

His entire body shuddered and a broken moan tore from his throat, raw and wrecked. He seemed to be struggling to form words, his lips parting, closing again, as if searching for something to say.

But he didn’t need to. You could see the silent pleading in his eyes.

And christ it undid you.

The heat coiling low in your stomach was nearing a breaking point, the relentless throb between your legs getting to be too much. You wanted to keep tasting him, wanted to hear more of those breathless, ruined sounds. But if you did, you knew he wasn’t going to last. And you needed him inside you.

Now.

Without a word, you spun, moving your hair over your shoulder. "Help me out."

His hands were shaking as he reached for you, dragging the zipper of your dress down in one slow, trembling motion, exposing every inch of you. His fingers traced along your spine, and goosebumps skittered across your skin in response.

You let the rest of the dress slip off, stepping out of your underwear in one fluid movement before turning back to him.

Noel’s gaze swept over you, his jaw tight, hands clenching into fists as if he were holding himself back.

Not for long.

You captured his mouth in a slow, deep kiss, guiding him back onto the bed, settling over him once again.

His hands grasped at your body, touch hot and desperate, sending wave after wave of need crashing through you. Your bodies were flush, nothing between you now, and the feeling of him hard against you sent a helpless moan tumbling from your lips.

You grasped him, positioning yourself over him, your breath coming in shallow, uneven pants.

"Can I?" you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

Noel’s pupils were blown wide, his lips parted as he looked up at you, utterly wrecked. He nodded, unable to form a single word.

Slowly, you began to sink down onto him, gasping at the stretch, at the heat, the way he filled you completely. Your fingers dug into his chest as you took him inch by inch, your thighs shaking from how overwhelming it felt.

His hands shot to your hips, gripping you like a lifeline as a strangled moan tore from his throat.

You could feel him deep inside you as you finally seated yourself against him. You took a moment to adjust, shivering at the contact. The white-hot heat in your veins was everywhere.

"Fuck," he choked out, his voice breaking. His body trembled beneath you, every muscle tensed, struggling to hold on.

You glanced down at him, and his dark, desperate gaze met yours.

"Christ, you feel so incredible," he rasped, voice wrecked and rough. "Need you—fuck, I need—" His words dissolved into a sharp gasp as you shifted slightly, searching for the right angle.

You settled a hand against his chest and rolled your hips experimentally. The reaction was immediate.

A guttural moan tore from his throat, his hands tightening on your hips, guiding you into a rhythm he clearly needed just as badly as you did.

Your body was drowning in sensation. Every nerve alight, every muscle quivering, every inch of you focused on where you were joined. You rocked against him, getting lost in the pleasure. 

You barely registered when he planted his heels into the mattress, bracing himself. But you felt it the second he used all his force to thrust up to meet you.

A sharp, helpless cry ripped from your lips.

The force of it would have knocked you off balance if he hadn’t been gripping you so tightly, keeping you flush against him as he snapped his hips upward again.

"Fuck—Noel." His name broke from your lips as another surge of pleasure hit you like a shockwave.

Each thrust sent lightning shooting down your spine, pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable. You tried to meet him, to match his rhythm, but the way he was hitting so deep, so perfectly, made it nearly impossible to keep control.

You felt him everywhere. Filling you, consuming you. It was dizzying.

His grip on your hips tightened suddenly, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you down onto him harder, deeper. His own hips surged up to meet you with every thrust, dragging you into the frantic, unrelenting pace he so badly needed.

The sounds filling the room were obscene—skin meeting skin, ragged breaths, broken moans spilling from both of you.

Your mind had gone completely blank, overtaken by pleasure, your body running purely on instinct. The only thought was ‘Noel Noel Noel’. Your own moans were getting higher, more desperate, your broken off sounds of "No-el" between each thrust spilling out. 

"Fuck—" his breath came in ragged, labored gasps, his words shattered. "You feel—so fucking—good—don’t stop—"

Your thighs were trembling from exertion, but stopping wasn’t an option. Not when you were this close. Not when every nerve was buzzing, your entire body tightening around him, the telltale buildup coiling inside you like a live wire ready to snap.

"You’re so close, love," he groaned, his grip tightening. "I can feel it—I need you to—please—I can’t hold on much longer—"

His plea sent another wave of heat crashing through you, tipping you closer to the edge.

Desperate, you moved a hand between you, flicking his nipple again, watching as he arched into your touch with a helpless, ruined moan.

"Fuck—" His voice broke. His hips stuttered, losing rhythm. "You’re gonna make me—fuck—I can’t—"

Then one deep, perfectly-angled thrust sent you spiraling.

Pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body seizing as you cried out his name. Your walls clenched around him, dragging him over the edge with you.

A strangled moan ripped from his throat as he came, his hands gripping you so hard you were sure there would be bruises. His release flooded inside you in sharp, pulsing waves.

You collapsed against him, body giving out entirely. Every muscle felt spent, useless, like you’d been wrung dry. His chest rose and fell beneath you in quick, uneven bursts, both of you still gasping for air.

For a long, breathless moment, the only thing in the world was the two of you. Bodies tangled, limbs shaking, lungs fighting for air.

You figured you should get off him to allow him to fully breathe. You slid off and onto your stomach, melting into the mattress. You could feel him leaking out of you and onto the sheets, but you made no move to stop it. 

Then finally, finally, the world came back into focus.

Noel shifted onto his side as he caught his breath, his fingertips resting along your spine in slow, soothing strokes. The touch sent a shiver through you, but not from arousal this time. It was something softer, something more dangerous.

The intensity of what had just occurred was overwhelming, but unlike last time, you didn’t feel the need to run.

His voice broke the quiet, rough with exhaustion. "You alright?"

You forced yourself to lift your head, meeting his gaze. His blue eyes were heavy-lidded, searching yours.

"I think so," you murmured, still breathless.

His fingers brushed damp strands of hair back from your face, the gesture unexpectedly tender. "You’re shaking," he noted, voice softer now.

You blinked. You hadn’t even realized.

Something stirred inside you at his tone. It was unfamiliar—giddy, weightless. It felt like… affection. A small smile tugged at your lips before you even realized you were doing it.

"Yeah well that’s entirely your fault," you mumbled.

He huffed out a quiet laugh before tugging you closer. His fingers resumed their slow, steady circles, and the warmth of it seeped into you, easing some of the lingering tremors.

This kind of intimacy wasn’t something you were used to. Fucking him was one thing, but this… this was something else entirely. Something you weren’t sure you should allow. But you weren’t stopping him either.

If this was what the real Noel Gallagher was like then you were in trouble.

You laid there for a moment before a nagging thought entered your mind. "I’m sorry I left you in that field."

He stilled for half a second, body tensing before he relaxed again.

"I think I was scared," you admitted. "So I ran. I’m not even sure what I was scared of, really. But… I am sorry."

Noel exhaled through his nose, considering. "I get it," he said finally. "I’m sorry if I was being, uh… too much."

You let out a quiet laugh. "No, I liked it," you confessed, cheeks heating. "I think that’s what scared me. Everything changed so fast, and I wasn’t ready for it."

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were warm. "Well I’ve been known to overwhelm people with emotions."

You nudged him playfully, laughing.

"Don’t deny it, love," he teased, his voice dipping into that cocky lilt again. "You know you can’t resist me. I’m magnetic."

"Don’t you start with that again," you warned, pushing up onto your elbows.

He let out a low chuckle, but his gaze flickered down, roaming over your body now that you weren’t caught up in the haze of lust. His expression shifted, less teasing, more appreciative.

"Oh, but it’s true," he replied, his tone cheeky and playful. "You’re completely captivated by me."

You pursed your lips, fighting back a smile. "That’s yet to be proven."

"Is that so?" he murmured. He closed the space between you with a soft kiss. "I think I’m more than capable of proving it to you."

Then, in one swift motion, he flipped you onto your back, drawing a startled laugh from your throat. He grinned against your skin, pressing playful kisses along your jaw, your cheek, your neck.

"See?" he said, punctuating his words with another kiss. "Captivated."

You laughed breathlessly, fingers tangling in his hair.

You were starting to think he might be right.

--------------------------------------------------------

I know this is another Noel post but I pinky promise that I have concepts of a plan for a Liam post coming next. 

[daddy-issues-galore]

Reminice

90's Noel Gallagher x pregnant!wife!reader

Warnings: 18+ readers, smut, pregnancy sex, oral f-recieving, fingering, swearing, loss of virginity

Chaos. That’s how you would describe Oasis. And loud. Very loud. But you were used to it all.

You’d been friends with the boys since you were kids. Growing up on the same street as them and being a couple of years older than Liam, often meant you got asked to babysit him when he was little. It also meant you were around at the Gallagher house most of the time, which meant you were always around Noel, and although he was a few years older than you, the two of you were quite close. You were one of the few people he genuinely liked having around. He didn’t kick you out of his room or hide his guitar playing from. He’d even let you read over his songs that he’d write. You’d always fancied the pants off him, but you were too shy to ever say anything and just assumed he thought you were a mate that looked after his little brother every now and then.

It wasn’t until he was going off to roadie for ‘Inspiral Carpets’ did things change between you.

----- 1989 -----

A load of your mates had decided to throw a leaving party for Noel the night before he left (it was just an excuse to party and get pissed) and you’d decided to miss it. You weren’t in the mood to celebrate because you selfishly didn’t want Noel to go.

So, at 8pm instead of getting pissed and dancing with your mates, you were sulking on your bed listening to a record Noel had leant you as the rain came down outside, when your telephone began ringing.

“Yeah?” You answered with a huff.

“Meet me at the bench. I’m setting off now from mine.”

“Noel? Why aren’t you at that party?”

“Y/n, just meet me at the bench, will ya’.”

“Aye? It’s pissing it down-" Noel hung up before you could protest further. “Bastard.” You muttered and set about getting your stuff together before setting off to the park.

It wasn’t really a park, just a large grass land that had a broken swing set on it. There was a hill behind the swing set and at the top was a bench that you and Noel sort of claimed as your bench.

With your umbrella in one hand and a torch in the other, you carefully made your way up the hill, the rain only seeming to get worse as you climbed to the top. As you got near the top, you spotted a figure slumped on the bench. You could see it was a floppy haired Noel wearing  a thin coat with no hood, shivering.

“Noel?” You called out as walked towards him.

He looked up to you and nodded, “Alrigh’.” He shifted on the bench so you could sit down beside him.

“You could have picked a better place to meet, ya’ know.” You huffed as you sat down beside him. “’Ere.” You gave him the umbrella to hold since he was a bit taller than you.

Noel slipped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to him as you both settled under the umbrella.

“Why aren’t ya’ at the party?” You asked.

“No point if you aint.” He muttered. “Why weren’t you?” He asked.

You sighed and chewed the inside of your cheek. “Dint fancy it.” You shrugged not looking at him.

Noel scoffed, “Fuckin’ liar.”

“Am not.” You argued still refusing to look at him.

“Bollocks. I know when you’re lyin’, Y/n… You can’t look at me.” Noel smirked to himself as you gaped at him. Noel looked down at you with a furrowed brow. “I thought you’d have wanted to see me on me last night ‘ere?”

You nodded, “I did… I do…” You sighed, “I just-” You huffed feeling tears form. “I couldn’t come to that party, Noel… I couldn’t, fake bein’ happy… because I’m selfish… I don’t want ya’ to leave.” You admitted and wiped your tears away. “I’m bein’ so selfish because this is an amazing opportunity for ya’, and I am so proud of ya’. But I’ve never gone a day without speakin’ to you or hearin’ ya’ play your guitar or listenin’ to ya’ and your kid argue… I don’t want to… but I have to.” You cried.

“That settles it then,” Noel sighed.

“What?” You frowned as you wiped your tears away.

“I ain’t goin’.”

“What?” You shook your head, “You have to. You can’t just not go because of me. That’s daft.”

“Knowin’ you won’t be happy without me, would make me unhappy. Your happiness is more important-”

“I am not more important than your own happiness, Noel. You have to go.”

“You make me happy, Y/n.” Noel confessed, “And to be honest, this past week... I’ve been thinkin’… maybe me goin’ was a mistake.” He mumbled the last part as he looked away into the dark.

Noel very rarely shared his feelings and when he did, you were the only one he spoke to about them. You didn’t laugh at him or call him a wimp. You’d offer him a smile and reassure him things would be okay, or you’d find a way to help him.

“Why would you think that?” You frowned up at him.

Noel shrugged, “I… don’t want to leave ya’.”

You sighed heavily, “You can’t let my silly insecurities be the reason you miss out on this. I’ll get over meself eventually, Noel.”

Noel shook his head, “It’s not that. I’ve, sort been thinkin’ the same things as you, I guess. The thought of not seein’ you every day… or, seein’ ya’ little excited grin and giggle you do when you get some new fancy gadget for, ya’ camera,” Noel smiled to himself as he pulled you a little closer into his side. “It’s terrifying… ‘casue I need ya’, love.”

Your brow furrowed as you looked up at him, “You don’t need me, Noel.”

He nodded, “I bloody do, love. You keep me sane.” He chuckled making you smile. “And… well, I love ya’.”

You gasped, taken back by his confession. The sound of the rain hitting the umbrella echoed as you stared up at Noel, your heart racing in your chest. “You, love me?”

Noel nodded, “Always have.”

You’d never expected him to say that to you. You went quiet as you looked away from him, your mind racing. Did he really mean it?

Your long silence filled Noel with regret and worry – you were never quiet for this long. “Y’know what, forget I fuckin’ said anythin’, yeah? I need to get home. ‘Ere.” He said as he practically shoved your umbrella into your chest as he stood up. Before you could react, a gust of wind took it and blew it away from you.

“Wha- Noel.” You jumped up and followed him as he started walking away. “Wait, stop.”

“Just leave it, Y/n.”

“No,” You grabbed his jacket and pulled him back, the pair of you getting drenched by the rain, “I bloody won’t. You can’t just say you love me then bugger off!”

“Why? You want to laugh in my face or somet?” He sulked.

“Of course not.”

“Then what? ‘Cause you weren’t sayin’ anythin’.” He huffed and shook his head. “Look, just drop it. I’ll see ya’ when I get back.” Noel said as he began walking away again.

“Noel Thomas David Gallagher, I swear if you don’t fuckin’ stop, I’ll clip you round the ear, so hard!” Noel stopped but refused to turn back. You huffed and grabbed his arm, pulling him back around to face you. “Dickhead, ya’ can’t just tell me ya’ love me and not expect me to be shocked.”

Noel smiled to himself. He did always love your way with words. “Yeah, sorry.”

You shook your head with a small chuckle, “You mean it?”

Noel nodded, “’Course I do. Yer just ‘bout the only person I can tolerate.” He teased making you giggle. “Ya’ don’t need to say it back. I know me timin’ is awful and that… but, I had to say somethin’. It’s drivin’ me mad… you, drive me mad.” He chuckled.

You rolled your eyes and smiled down at your wet feet. “I do.”

Noel’s brow furrowed, “You do what?”

“Love you… always have.” You smiled shyly as you looked up at him.

Noel broke out into a grin, “Have ya’?” He asked as he stepped closer to you and placed his hands on your hips.

You nodded. “’Course I have.” You smiled softly up at him. “So… ya’ gonna kiss me or what?” You asked making Noel blush.

Noel nodded and ran his hand over the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah, can do.”

Your brow furrowed, “Can do? Don’t make it sound like a bloody chore or-”

Noel leaned down and gave your lips a firm kiss, cutting your teasing off. You moaned softly into Noel’s mouth as you slipped your hands up his chest and over his shoulders until you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You pulled back and drew in a deep breath, looking up to Noel with a shy smile. A brief silence settled between the pair of you as you stared at each other, the elephant in the room (or grassland) looming over you.

“You have to go. Ya’ know that, right?” You said to him.

Noel nodded with a heavy sigh, “What about you… and me?”

You let out a heavy sigh, “It’s probably for the best if we, just… leave it.” You shrugged.

Noel’s brow furrowed, “Aye? Don’t you want us to be together?”

You nodded, “But you’re going away, Noel. You don’t need to be tied down when you’re goin’ to be off havin’ fun.”

“Then I won’t go. Easy.”

“Noel, you’re goin’. End of.” You gave him a soft smile. “We can, sort things out when you get back.”

“Come with me then.” Noel blurted out making you smile.

“Can’t can I. Off to uni.” You smiled up at him and brushed his wet hair back from his face. “If we’re meant to be, it’ll happen when the time is right, yeah?”

Noel nodded, “I’d wait for ya’, ya’ know.”

You moved your hands down to cup his face. “Me too, but it wouldn’t be fair on either of us.”

Noel nodded and offered you a weak smile. “I do, love ya’.” He whispered as he pressed his forehead against yours.

You smiled softly, “I love you too.” You gave him a small kiss.

Noel cleared his throat and looked down at his watch, “We can still make it, to that party if ya’ like.”

You shook your head as you chewed the inside of your cheek. “If you don’t mind, can we go home? Me mam and dad ain’t home for the night and I want to give you somethin’, before you leave.” You admitted with a blush.

Noel nodded, “Yeah, okay… Ya’ dint need to get me owt, love.” He smiled.

“It’s somethin’ I’ve been wantin’ you to have for a while.” You blushed.

“Oh?” Noel raised his eyebrow, “And what’s that then?” He asked.

You bit your lip before breaking out into a grin. “My virginity.”

That night as clique as it sounds, you and Noel made love. Early the next morning, the two of you headed back to his so you could help him pack because he’d left everything to last minute like he usually did. Liam wasn’t best pleased to have the pair of you moving about the bedroom making a racket, so much so he went down to sleep on the sofa after calling the two of you cunts. A couple of hours later (at a more reasonable hour), along with everyone else, the two of you said goodbye.

“I’ll call ya’ every day, love.” Noel promised as he held you close in his arms.

“No, you won’t.” You giggled and looked up at him. “Just call when you can.” You smiled up at him.

He nodded with a smile as he reached up and cupped your face. “I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you, too.”

Noel leaned down and kissed you, taking Liam and Peggy by surprise. Let’s just say, the moment Noel had driven off, you were bombarded with questions from the pair of them.

----- 1991 -----

“Where is she?!” Liam paced back and forth outside the pub as he smoked his third cigarette in the past hour.

“She’ll be ‘ere, mate. Y/n, never misses a gig.” Guigsy tried to reassure Liam, hoping to calm him down. The last thing anyone wanted was a pissed off Liam.

“She fuckin’ better not. I’ll never forgive her.” Liam huffed dramatically as he put out his cigarette and went to roll another.

“Oh, stop bein’ a dramatic fucker, would ya’.” You called out to him as you rounded the corner with your camera in hand. “Am not even that late.”

Liam frowned at you. “You said you’d be ‘ere for sound check.”

“Sound check?” You laughed, “Sound like you’re in a proper little band.” You teased making the others chuckle.

“We are a proper band.” Liam argued.

“With a shit name.” You teased.

“Fuck off, will ya’.” Liam snapped at you making you laugh.

“Fuck, your easy to wind up.” You nudged him with your elbow making him push you back as he told you to fuck off. You laughed and grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him towards you, “Come ‘ere, William.” You cooed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressed kisses to his cheek. “I’m so proud of my little, Willy-bum.” You kissed his cheek again and again making him screw his face up in disgust.

“Get off!” He shoved you back as the others laughed at the pair of you.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, I haven’t heard you call him that for fuckin’ time.”

You gasped, untangling yourself from Liam and spinning around. “Noel?” You gaped at him in shock. He looked completely different to when he left but the exact same. You couldn’t believe he was there.

He grinned at you, “Alrigh’, love.”

You nodded, unable to form any words.

Liam’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline as he watched you, “Fuckin’ ‘ell. Never seen you speechless.” He laughed and gave you shove closer to Noel, nearly knocking you over.

Noel grabbed a hold of you before you could fall. Liam and the others disappeared backside the pub leaving the two of you behind. Not that either of you noticed, lost in your own little world as you stood together.

Noel smiled down at you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Tell me yer not seein’ anyone.” He whispered.

“And what if I was?” You asked.

Noel shook his head, “I’d still kiss ya’.”

A smile broke out on your lips, “I’m not seein’ anyone… so kiss me all you want.”

Noel’s smile widened before he reached up to hold your face as he leaned down and kissed you. It felt like your first kiss all over again, but this time you didn’t need to worry about running out of time.

You pulled back from each other with matching dopey smiles. “When did you get ba-” “You look fuckin-” The two of you began laughing at each other.

“C’mon, let’s get a drink, yeah?” Noel took your hand and led you inside the pub. The pub was packed, so it was hard to move from one side to the other. Noel pulled you under his arm and kept you close as he led you through the crowd until he found a suitable spot. “Stay ‘ere, love.” Noel pressed a kiss to your cheek before he left you in a quiet corner of the pub and went to tackle to bar.

“Oy!” You heard Liam shout as he walked up to you with a frown, “Don’t let lover boy distract you from your job.”

“Job would imply you’re paying me, Liam.” You rolled your eyes at him but still smiled.

Liam nodded, “And you will be once we’ve made it big.”

“Not with a shit band name, you won’t.” You muttered teasingly.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You shook your head with a smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll be ready. You just focus on your singing, yeah?” You gave his hair a ruffle making him huff and push your hand a way.

“Stop.” He sulked off as you laughed at him. God, you loved winding him up.

“Not missed that mardy bastard.” Noel said with a smirk as he appeared with your drinks.

“Don’t be mean.” You giggled. “And don’t lie.” You smirked at him over the rim of your glass. “You’ve missed him.”

Noel frowned and shook his head, “Piss off.” He took a swig of his drink as he watched you. “I missed you.” He smiled softly. “Those pictures helped.” He winked at you making you blush and look away.

“Oh god,” You giggled. “You better not have shown anyone else ‘em.” You gave him a warning look.

He shook his head with a grin, “Don’t you worry, love. They’re just for me.” He looked towards the ‘stage’ where the band would be playing. “So, what’s this lot like?” He nodded towards the stage.

“Uhm,” You chewed the inside of your cheek as you tried to choose your words wisely. “Well… they’re good at playin’ their instruments.”

Noel began laughing, “Is r’kid that bad?”

You shook your head, “Look, Liam’s voice is… great.” You smiled proudly. “Surprisingly so, actually… it’s his songwriting that’s not…” You winced making Noel laugh. “He needs help.” You smiled softly at him. “They need help, Noel. Someone to write songs…and the music… to lead them…” You stepped closer to him and placed your hand on his chest and began fiddling with the button on his shirt. “They need a Noel.” You whispered as you looked up at him through your lashes.

Noel rolled his eyes, “Are you in on this bollocks?” He huffed.

“They need you Noel.” You pleaded.

He shook his head, “I’m not bein’ their manager.”

You opened your mouth to say something else, but the lights went low, signalling the start of the gig. “I need to get to the front, ya’ comin’?” You asked Noel as you pulled your camera out of your bag.

Noel shook his head, “Nah, I’ll stay ‘ere.” He took your drink from you.

“Party pooper…” You giggled making Noel grin. You reached up and pressed a kiss to his cheek before you quickly disappeared into the crowd.

Noel watched you disappear with a smile on his face. He wasn’t letting you go again.

----- 1999 -----

Noel smiled to himself as he watched you from his sun lounger. You were stood by the pool snapping pictures (like you always were) looking happy and relaxed, something that neither of you had been for what felt like years.

The recent album had been utter chaos to do. Add on top of that the two of you recently finding out that you were expecting your first child together and Liam opening his big gob to an interviewer who was more than happy to spread the news. So, Noel decided as soon as the album was finished, he was whisking you off somewhere warm, preferably with a pool or the sea so he could see you in a bikini. It was one of his favourite sights, especially now that you were pregnant. You looked like a goddess.

“You alrigh’, love?” He asked as you stood in front of him.

You hummed and pressed your left hand to your lower back. Your wedding ring glinting in the sunlight as you did, “Backs hurtin’ a bit.” You scowled.

Noel’s brow furrowed and he shifted on his sun lounger, moving his left leg off onto the floor and patting the spot in front of him. “Come ‘ere.” He held his hand out to you.

You smiled and took his hand, slowly lowering yourself onto the lounger in front of him. You let out a satisfied hum as you settled against Noel’s chest, lifting your legs up onto the sun lounger. Noel wrapped his arms around your waist and placed his hands over your belly as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“We can go back to the room if you like. Or could book you into the SPA.” He said as he placed another soft kiss to your cheek.

You shook your head. “Not in the mood for some stranger rubbin’ their hands all over me.”

Noel smiled to himself. “I could always do it.”

You giggled, “You mean you want to have a grope.”

“I can do that whenever I want, love.” He said as he gave your breast a squeeze making you giggle and swat his hand away. “C’mon, you’ll feel better.” He gave your thigh a soft pat.

“That’s what I said to you the night we created this.” You giggled as you rubbed your bump.

You’d done the maths and worked out the night of conception was after one mega hectic, chaotic, frustrating day of recording in the studio. Liam and Noel had been arguing all day, hardly getting anything of use recorded. Noel was angry and annoyed with Liam, close to calling it quits. You’d taken him back to your shared room in the big house that had been rented to record the most recent album to calm him down – and you really did calm him down.

“Then you know what I’m ‘bout to do.” Noel said with a cheeky grin as he helped you up off the sun lounger.

Ever since finding out you were pregnant; Noel had spent more time worshipping your body (not that he didn’t already) but he’d become obsessed with you. Pregnancy looked good on you.

Noel slowly peeled your clothes from your body, pressing his lips against your sun kissed skin as he did. He gently laid you down on the bed and spread your legs wide. "Fuck," He moaned as he gently ran his lips up the inside of your thigh. He leaned forwards and ran his tongue up the length of your pussy making you moan loudly. Noel worked his tongue up and down, moaning at your taste.

You moaned rolling your eyes back as Noel sucked on your clit. “Fuck, Noel.” You gripped Noel’s hair as you began rolling your hips against his mouth.

Noel pulled back with a smirk as he lifted his left hand and ran his knuckles through your wet lips making you jump and bite your lip. Your eyes rolled backwards as you felt his wedding ring. God, it turned you on, knowing he was your husband.

He slowly coated his fingers in your wetness before he pushed two of his fingers inside of you. Noel began flicking his tongue against your swollen clit making heavy moans fall from your lips as he moved his fingers in and out of you.

You groaned, "Fuck, Noel,"

Noel moaned against you. He twisted his hand and curled his fingers as he sucked on your clit. Noel smirked as he pulled back from you, "You gonna cum?"

You nodded, "Yes."

"Good girl," Noel reached up with his right hand and grabbed your breast, running his thumb over your hard nipple as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. "Cum all over my fingers, baby."

You let out a deep moan as Noel ran his tongue over your clit, pushing you over the edge.

Noel smirked proudly as he withdrew his fingers from you and sucked his fingers clean. "Perfect." He hummed before he stood up and began to push his boxers down, letting his hard cock spring free.

You let out a low moan as you stared at his beautiful cock.

“How do you want me, baby?” He asked as he gently stroked his cock.

You bit your bottom lip, “From behind.” You blushed.

Noel’s grin widened. “On your side?”

You nodded, excitement bubbling in your chest. Noel leaned forwards and kissed you before he moved to lay on his side behind you. You bent your left leg as Noel took a hold of his cock. Your mouth fell open as Noel pushed his length inside of you. “Oh, god!” You cried out.

“Fuck,” Noel moaned loudly as your cunt squeezed around his cock. “Ya’ feel so good, love.” Noel slipped his right arm under your neck, his calloused hand cupping your breast being gentle knowing they were sensitive. He moved his left hand from your hip and slid it over your bump.

“Please, Noel,” You moaned.

Noel kissed your bare shoulder as he moved his hips back and forth. “What? Tell me.”

“Need to come.” You panted, your fingers digging into his forearm.

Noel kissed your neck as he reached own with his left hand and pressed his fingers against your clit working your clit in time with his thrusts

“Oh, fuck!” You cried out.

“Tell me… say it.” Noel panted against your ear. “Please,”

“Mine… My husband… You… Noel!”

He pressed his lips against yours and kissed you hard, his hips still moving back and forth. You kissed Noel back with as much force, your tongue tangling with his.

You pulled back from Noel needing to breath, groaning loudly as your orgasm hit you, causing you to scream out in pleasure. "FUCK!"

"FUCK, BABY! YES!" Noel snarled as he hit deep inside you, cuming hard. Noel held you in his arms as your breathing slowed down, your back flush against his chest as his hand once again rubbed your belly. “I’ll stop. I promise.” Noel whispered out of nowhere.

“What ya’ mean?” You asked as you reached up with your left hand and threaded your fingers through his hair.

“The drugs and the drinkin’.” He pressed his face into your shoulder and kissed your skin. “I’ll stop smokin’ anorl.”

“Noel,” You smiled to yourself, “You don’t need-”

“I do. For this one… for you, for us.” Noel wrapped his arms around you’re a little tighter, being careful not to squeeze you too much. “I want to be a better man.”

You hugged him back the best you could in the position you were in. “You already are, Noel. I wouldn’t have married you if you weren’t.” You smiled. “I love you.”

Noel smiled against your shoulder, “I love you too.”

[shes-thunderstormssss]

don’t think I’ve ever heard him this happy before he’s so cute