T.W— Angst.
Knitted Shut...
"Gosh, stop fucking overreacting, it's just some overtime work." Satoru said to you, irritated and overworked. Fine, you gave up, he won, just like he does every single time you argue. You felt hurt and pained to know that your boyfriend barely has any time for you, no, for your relationship.
You slouched tired and frustrated from the fight you had with your dickhead boyfriend before you finally left to change. "Ugh, whatever, I don't even give a shit now." He said, visibly irked by your presence in the room. I mean— why would you even bother trying to convince him to not go overtime this time but he just won't listen.
And then here comes some girls who would be out there saying— "Gosh it's just overtime!" or "You're so obsessed!". No, they didn't know Satoru's relationship with you and they never will. You were going to the point of insanity by now, it was always overtime or night out with friends or family meetings! What about you? Did he even think about you during his entire life!? You were finished, this was too much negativity in your mind, all you can do now is just lay down and forget.
As you lay down on your bed overthinking about possibly everything in your love life, Satoru comes in. "Hey, doll~" he said in a 'loving' manner. "What do you want, Satoru." You replied to him, this time confused but still angry at him. "Y'know m'so so sorry about everything princess~." "I promise, I will never do it again~". Wow, apparently he's apologizing now? What a jerk he was. "Satoru, we talked about this, and before you mention it, No." You answered him sternly causing him to be angered. "What!?"
Satoru began to shout at you, his pent up frustration had erupted out of his mouth and the next thing you know he slapped you. "Satoru!" You exclaimed, the imprint of his hand on your soft cheeks burned painfully. "I'm sorry love! I didn't mean it!" "Forgive me just this once!" He tried to explain himself but you had already decided, and your decision made him mad.
"That was the FUCKING last straw Gojo!" You thought he wouldn't even have the guts to slap you like that because he loved you, but this just proved your thoughts wrong. His mind was racing with thoughts, what should he do? You weren't accepting any of his apologies and it was already clear that you were about to explode. "Fine." Satoru said.
FINE? That was all he wanted to say!? "FINE MY ASS SATORU!" "I WAS STUPID TO LOVE A SELFISH FUCKING MAN LIKE YOU!" You gasped covering your mouth. What the fuck did you just say..? Gosh, why were you so dumb? What is he gonna say now.?
BOOMBAYAH!!!! :3 YESS IM LAZY!!!
IDGAF
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Blurbs you say?? I am thinking thoughts… about matty’s dick in my mouth while he smokes a cigarette <3
This #unedited and sort of shit, but i promised myself to not to obsess over it too much. also i cant not post without a fancy title and banner bc im allergic soz xx
Go down - Matty Healy
A/N: im shit at blurbs, minors do not interact
wc: 1.5k
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The door shuts with a loud bang, Mattys footsteps echoing through the foyer. Ridding himself of his jacket, chucking it onto the couch, he sits down next to it, an exasperated groan leaving his lips. His voice was sore, raspy from tonight's gig. Sold out, ten thousand people, all screaming the house down as Matty sang his heart out. Fans went wild as he unbuttoned his crisp white shirt, leaving all but one buttoned unfastened.
It still was, the fabric now wrinkled and slightly damp from the sweat, clinging to his body. It took everything in you to not jump onto him right at that moment, take him then and there. No, he was tired, eyes shutting as he rolled his head back, resting it onto the edge of the sofa. His voice was low as he spoke.
“Darling?” you hum in acknowledgement, peeking your head around the corner, still trying to tow your shoes off. He waits for you to actually enter the room, a rough hand running through his gelled hair, tucking some of it behind his ear.
“Could you pour me some wine?” Despite having been drinking the entire set, Matty always liked a healthy glass of wine when he got home, exhausted and missing your presence. Usually, you would take the time to talk about the show, what the stagehands had fucked up this time et cetera, et cetera. This time, however, you had other things on your mind, and, based on the way his eyes dragged up and down your body as you walked by, he did as well.
You grab two glasses from the marble cupboard, setting them onto the counter. Pouring both of you a generous amount, you check yourself in the reflection of the microwave. Your hair was a bit messy, and your mascara was slightly smudged from dancing, but it didn't bother you.
“Thank you, love.” a grateful look spreads onto his face as he takes a glass from you, smiling. You place a chaste kiss on his lips, wiping a bit of dirt off his face with your free hand. Before you could even move to sit down, his hand wraps around your lower back, pulling you into an awkward kneeling position between his legs, the edge of the sofa digging into your knees. He kisses you like this, setting both your glasses onto a small table, freeing up both hands.
You shift, using his shoulders for leverage, lowering your body onto the floor in front of him.
“What are you up to, mh?” he asks, his filthy smirk making your head spin.
“Could ask you the same thing, undressing in front of an audience.” you mention his little display, thrusting up into air as he danced around, the screams of the crowd only spurring him on. He pretends to look offended, shaking his head in protest.
“It's art.”
“It's insanely hot, is what it is.” you grin, hands settling right onto his belt.
His breath hitches, breathing pattern slightly irregular as you look up at him through your eyelashes, blinking innocently.
A quiet “Oh, fuck me.” leaves his lips, and he coughs, trying to remain composed. That proves more difficult than he thought, especially with you looking at him like that.
“Can I?” you ask, voice dripping like honey. The look on his face when you let things drag on like this was delicious, eyes drooping shut as he groaned your name.
“Shoot me if i ever say no to that question, fucking hell.” That's all you need, your hands making quick work of the black leather belt in front of you, the sound of metal against metal so unbelievably erotic.
Above you, you hear Matty shuffle, hands digging into the pockets of his suit jacket. Producing a pack of cigarettes, he sticks one between his lips, light not far behind. Something stirs in you when he lights it, the soft glow of the flame making him look even more attractive than he already was.
He’s hard against the palm of your hand as you work the buttons of his trousers, pulling them down along with his black boxer-briefs. The cool air makes him groan, a cloud of smoke leaving his parted lips. The smell doesn't take long to fill your senses, so distinctly Matty.
Not in the mood for a tease, his hand finds the thick locks of your hair, threading his fingers through it. Taking another drag of his cigarette, he watches you suck the tip of his cock into your mouth, moaning when the taste of him hit your tongue.
He gathers your hair up into a makeshift ponytail, keeping it out of your face as you take him in, hollowing out your cheeks in that way that makes him lose his mind.
His hand pushes your head down lightly, silently asking for permission. You let him, his cock brushing against the back of your throat, making your gag reflex kick in. Using a trick your friend had taught you back in highschool, you press your thumb between the rest of your fingers, trying to suppress it.
Matty is shameless above you, moaning and groaning whenever you bobbed your head, incredibly pent up and desperate.
Trying again, you let him guide himself deeper into your mouth, his sounds of encouragement spurring you on.
“So fucking good, just- yeahh, thats it, fuck” his words go straight to your core, and you clench your thighs together, trying to relieve some of the aching pressure between your legs.
Bobbing your head, you breathe through your nose, taking him as deep as you can without gagging, feeling him twitch in your mouth. His tip leaks salty precum onto your tongue, the smells of cigarettes the only thing you could concentrate on. You look up, your eyes meeting his right as he takes a drag, pushing your head down even further. Again, you sputter, but you don't get off.
“God, you’re so gorgeous, choking on my cock like this.” he groans, throwing his head back in pure ecstasy.
“Made for me, weren't you? Perfect mouth, shit.” his rambling lets you know he’s close, hips bucking up into your mouth, your tongue running over the vein on the underside of his cock, pulsing with need.
Taking one last drag, he lets the finished cigarette fall onto the concrete floor behind the sofa, both hands now on your head, fucking his cock into your warm mouth.
You moan around him, the vibrations sending curses falling from his lips, the sounds of his movements echoing through the living room.
“I’m not gonna last, fucking- oh god.” he warns you, quickly pulling off him. Shaking your head, you raise your eyebrows at him and a small smile spreads onto your face.
“When has that ever been an issue?” he laughs, brushing your hair out of your face sweetly. You rub your cheeks against his thigh, eyes set on his weeping erection, desperate for release.
“Now, let me take care of you, okay?” he nods slowly, both his arms spread out on either side of him, letting you have full control. You dive back in, switching from kitten licking the tip to deepthroating him as far as you can go, his gasps of pleasure like music to your ears.
“Jesus, you‘re a fucking wet dream.” he moans, hips bucking uncontrollably as he spills onto your mouth, hot ropes of cum painting the back of your throat. His legs shake as you hold your head there, taking everything he gives you, the salty taste of him like heaven.
You stick out your tongue proudly, showing it completely clean. His hands grab your shoulders as fast as they can move, pulling you up and onto his lap. He kisses you, hard, tongue forcing its way into your mouth before you could even react. Groaning at the taste of himself on your tongue, his fingers wipe at your cheeks, rubbing off your mascara, which had started to stream down your face.
“You're a temptress, you are.” he grins, kissing you again, softer this time. Rolling your eyes, you use your nails to scratch the back of his head, knowing how much he loved the sensation.
“You didn't even try to resist.” you spit back, giggling at the speed at which he’d pulled you onto him, not even bothering to take his shoes off before plopping onto the sofa.
“I didn't, did I?”
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