The Interview — Matty Healy
18+! MDNI!!!!!! Explicit!!!
Okay so I've never written fanfic or smut before so this could be ass but I just love jealousy sex & the idea of being on a red carpet so...
CW: smut, choking, dom/sub dynamics, dom!matty, sub!reader, use of y/n, alcohol usage, jealous!matty, possessive!matty, established relationship, thigh riding, i think that's it?? lmk if i missed anything
WC: ~3k
Ok I hope y'all like it ENJOY!!
The Interview.
The cameras are almost blinding as you stare out into the crowd of photographers shouting your name, trying to get the best angle for whatever publication they’re working for. Being a top executive at Sony Music meant you mostly worked behind the scenes; out of the spotlight. However, seeing as 18 artists on your label (five of which you yourself handpicked) were up for awards tonight, you couldn’t not show up to The Grammys. Besides, it felt good to dress up once in a while, especially if that meant wearing custom Chanel.
Continuing down the red carpet, you’re stopped by a reporter for Rolling Stone, Bryan Wilson. From the few brief interactions you’ve had with him at industry parties and the stories that have circulated about him, you know the guy’s a sleaze. But, given that there’s a Canon XF605 pointed directly in your face when he asks if you have time for a short interview, you smile sweetly and comply.
“You look stunning tonight, as always, Y/N”, he begins, in typical sleazy reporter fashion, “Can you tell us a little bit about what you’re wearing?” His eyes travel down the expanse of your body, grazing (quite slowly, to be frank) over the daring V-cut of your gown.
You couldn’t really blame him for checking you out, you did look incredible in this dress. Layers of black satin expertly draped over your body created an elegant but sexy silhouette complete with a plunging neckline and a timeless backless design. You knew you looked good, you didn’t need Wilson eye-fucking you to tell.
“Isn’t this The Rolling Stone?” You giggle in response, half-joking, “Shouldn’t you be asking me about Sony Records and leave the fashion questions to Vogue?” To the untrained ear, your tone is light-hearted and sincere, however, there’s an intended edge you’re hoping is coming through.
If he was picking up on the edge, he wasn’t showing it. Wilson continues on checking you out, responding “We hear about Sony Records enough, but it’s a treat to see the woman behind the magic,” he looks directly into the camera and gestures to your body, “especially when the woman looks like this!” He looks at you now, “Why don’t you give us a spin, Y/N?”
You clench your jaw into a tight smile, “You know, I’d really rather talk about the artists up for awards tonight. It’s a record-breaking night for my company, and I’m extremely proud to be here…” You’re trying your best to refocus the conversation on the real reason you’re on the red carpet tonight, but Wilson’s wandering eyes are making it difficult for you to focus on anything.
Finally feeling fed up, you clear your throat, “Sorry, Bryan, am I boring you?”
He breaks out of his stare from your chest and goes red. “Oh! No, I’m sorry I was just… looking at your necklace!” He gestures to the Tiffany & Co. pendant that hangs (conveniently for him) right between your boobs.
“Stunning, innit?” You hear your boyfriend say from behind you as he comes up and possessively wraps his arm around your waist on camera in a way that will definitely be circulating Twitter tomorrow. “Just bought it for her yesterday when I first got to see the dress.” Matty grips your right hip so tight that the satin puckers under his fingertips. You get a feeling he’s been watching this “interview” from afar.
“A beautiful necklace for a beautiful woman, indeed,” Wilson so boldly responds, either not noticing or not caring that Matty was already quite irritated.
With that final comment, Matty grips your hip even tighter, “Right, then,” he says shortly, “Cheers, mate!” He yells over his shoulder while quickly ushering you away from the train wreck of a media appearance.
“I’m gonna kill that guy,” he leans down to quietly whisper in your ear as the two of you make your way into the venue, “Staring at you like a piece of meat live on camera, isn’t he embarrassed?”
“It’s really not a big deal, baby,” you try to reassure him. And to you, it wasn’t, really, compared to some of the other harassment and objectification you’ve experienced in such a male-dominated industry, “He’s just some stupid reporter,”
“Yeah some stupid reporter who doesn’t know how to keep his stupid fucking eyes away from what’s mine,” he growls under his breath.
You grow a bit warm at your boyfriend’s possessive words and decide to push him a little further. “So what, people aren’t allowed to look at me now? We’re kind of on a red carpet if you haven’t realized,”
Matty rolls his eyes as the two of you take your seats at your assigned table. “You know what I mean,” he scoots a bit closer to you, wrapping his arm around your waist, “People can look at you all they want, but these,” he trails his hand up your torso, palming your left tit and slightly grazing its nipple through your dress with his thumb. You gasp. “These are mine, and you know that.” he says lowly into your ear.
This was going to be a long night.
—
Seven wins, two acceptance speeches, and a few too many bottles of champagne later, the ceremony was coming to an end. You were so proud of your artists, even those who hadn’t won tonight.
To your (and your aching feet’s) misfortune, your boyfriend was insistent on “making an appearance” at the afterparty, to “touch base with some important blokes”. You weren’t thrilled about the ordeal, but you had a nice buzz going from the free champagne earlier and figured a gin and tonic to top off the night wouldn’t hurt anyone. Boy were you wrong.
You were standing by the bar by yourself, watching Matty “touch base” with the aforementioned “blokes”. Nursing your second gin and tonic, you wonder how much longer their conversation will take, and when you can finally go home (and take your boyfriend to bed). As your mind indulges your fantasies of being fucked to sleep later, you hear an annoying and familiar voice from behind you.
“It breaks my heart to see such a gorgeous woman drinking alone,” no one other than Bryan Wilson saunters up beside you at the bar, “Where’s your man? You think he’d be smarter than to leave such precious goods unattended…” he slurs to you, obviously a few more deep than you were at this point in the night.
As Wilson drunkenly gets too close to you, you turn back to where Matty was talking to see him staring holes into the man’s skull, clenching and unclenching his fists. Your nearing-on-past-tipsy mind flashes back to your boyfriend’s words earlier, and his reaction to the reporter’s initial efforts towards you. You consider your options: 1) tell Wilson to fuck off and continue being bored by yourself at the bar, or 2) play this up a bit, make Matty jealous, have some fun, and probably go home early. Your sixth drink of the night tells you option two is far more enticing, and you agree.
You lean into Wilson a bit, closing some of the distance you were intentionally making. “Ever the flatterer, Bryan,” you lean back and give him a once-over, “I’m shocked that you’re still single, a handsome guy like you with such a smooth mouth on him.”
“It’s intentional baby,” he puts a hand on your arm - uh oh. “Why would I tie down this smooth mouth to one lucky lady? There’s plenty enough to go around…” and just as you think he’s about to make a move you feel a bruising grip on your upper arm tearing you away. Away from Bryan Wilson, away from the bar, away from the party.
You get your bearings and find yourself in a secluded hallway outside the party with your very angry, very sexy boyfriend staring you in the face. “What the fuck was that?” He spits at you, fuming.
“What was what?” You respond, looking up at Matty with your best doe eyes.
He cages your body in between his own and the wall of the hallway, “Don’t play stupid with me now, things can only get worse for you from here, pet.” As you look up at your very jealous partner, and feel the energy radiating off of him, you think to yourself that things can probably only get better.
You maintain your look of faux-innocence as you reply in your sweetest voice “Baby I was just talking to-“
“Don’t ‘baby’ me,” Matty growls as he grabs your throat and pushes you harder into the wall behind you. “You were letting that perv practically fuck you in front of everybody here. Making everyone think you’re anything but mine.” He pushes his hips into yours to punctuate the word, and you can feel how hard he is. Oh dear. Maybe it’s time to drop the act.
“I’m sorry, you were just taking so long talking to those guys, and I was getting so impatient and needy for you,” You bat your eyelashes in an attempt to seduce your way out of undoubtedly being fucked silly in some corner of this hotel right now. “I just want you to take me home, baby,” You run your hands down his chest, the way you know he likes.
Matty scoffs at this. “Aw, my poor little slut can’t wait longer than an hour for me to take her home and fuck her?” You feel a heat pool at your center from his words and absolute condescension. His hand around your neck comes up to grip your jaw, holding your head so that you can’t look anywhere but his eyes. “So fucking pathetic. Having to whore yourself around in public so that I can give you some attention? Trying to embarrass me in front of all our colleagues meanwhile, the only thing embarrassing is how stupid you look letting that scumbag put his hands on you,”
He holds your face an inch away from his own, his eyes searching for a response in yours. “I think you may need to be reminded just who you belong to.” He says darkly. And with that, he’s dragging you again, this time into the bathroom at the other end of the hallway.
As soon as the door closes he has you pressed up against it face-first. He wastes no time undoing the back of your dress, practically ripping it off of your body. You hope he doesn’t do any damage to the new gown, but to be honest, you’re not sure you care in this moment either way. Upon removing the dress, your boyfriend can see that you’ve forgone any undergarments (half because of the dress itself, half because you knew it would drive him crazy - which it does).
“Oh my fucking god,” he practically moans when he sees your now naked form pressed up against the door for him. “You’ve been ready for me all night, haven’t you princess?” He whispers in your ear, pressing himself to your back, slightly grinding into your bare ass. You squirm with his words and the minimal stimulation he provides.
“Well let’s just take a look,” He reaches his hand around from where he’s standing and drags a finger through your soaking folds agonizingly slowly. Your breath hitches. “Oh my poor girl,” he tuts, “how long have you been soaking through your dress baby?” He resumes his teasing, touching everywhere that isn’t your clit or your entrance. You whine and push your hips back in protest.
Matty grabs you by your waist and holds you in place against the door. “I think I asked you a question, slut.” He barks. You only grow wetter at his words and his toying.
“Since-“ you start, but you’re cut off by a moan when he takes his free hand to pull on your left nipple. His teasing is almost overwhelming, and you’re not sure you even remember the question the way your head is clouded with lust and need.
You’re pulled out of your hazy state by a hard slap to your pussy, “Since what? Huh? I haven’t even taken my cock out and you’re already fucked dumb. Answer me. How long have you been this wet?” He asks again, rolling your nipple between his fingers while inching closer and closer to your entrance with his calloused hand.
“Since you were grabbing my hips on the red carpet,” you manage to stutter out “during the interview.”
With that answer, he removes both of his hands from you. You put your hands up to brace yourself from slamming into the door from your newfound loss of support. Matty laughs darkly.
“So that’s what this is about, huh angel?” He grabs you by your hips, spinning to face him and pushing you even harder into the door behind you, “you like it when I get riled up, so I’ll treat you like the whore that you are?”
You look up at him with your glazed-over eyes and nod dumbly.
“Well here’s the problem with that,” Matty begins sucking on your neck harshly, no doubt leaving bruises, “You… are… my… whore… no… one… else’s…” he punctuates every word by leaving a new mark on your chest with his mouth. He takes a step back, admiring his handiwork. “Gorgeous,” he mutters as he admires your now hickey-covered tits, “you should really see this baby.”
Matty leads you over to the sink of the bathroom, turning you around to see your naked and marked-up form in the mirror. Looking at the new marks on your chest, you realize that he’s left them in the distinct pattern of your dress’s neckline, meaning there’s no hiding them. No hiding the fact that you’re his. You squeeze your thighs together at the thought.
Leaning over your shoulder in the mirror, you watch as your boyfriend trails his hand down your body to the place you need him most. Unsurprisingly, though, he doesn’t touch you, he simply ghosts his hand over the outside of your now sopping heat. You press yourself into him.
“Please, baby,” you whine, making your best puppy eyes in the mirror at him. “Please, I need you to touch me.” You’re so desperate he doesn’t even need to ask you to beg.
“Do you think you deserve to be touched?” He responds, continuing his teasing, “You’ve been quite a bad girl tonight, baby. And bad girls don’t get what they want.”
“I’ll be good, I promise,” you beg even more, tears forming at your eyes with the desperation he’s built in you.
“Prove it,” Matty responds, trailing his hand up to your mouth. You gladly take his digits in, watching as he toys with you and stretches you out, wishing he would do that in other places. You hear the clinking of his belt, and you perk up, thinking that maybe he’s just going to put you out of your horny misery and fuck you already, but of course he’s not.
“Can’t have you getting yourself all over my nice trousers now can we love?” He says as he pulls his pants down to his ankles. You watch still with all four of his fingers in your mouth as he takes his newly naked thigh and roughly slots it in between your legs from behind. Your eyes roll back at the much-needed friction it provides. Matty leans in, “Right then. Be a good girl and ride my thigh, hm? You’re gonna have to get yourself off before I believe you after tonight’s theatrics.”
Embarrassing as it may be, you are in no condition to care in this moment. You immediately start feverishly fucking your boyfriend’s thigh, moaning around his fingers at the friction you’ve been needing all night, a ball already forming in the pit of your stomach. Not more than a second after your head falls forward in relief, your boyfriend grabs you by your hair to force you to look in the mirror, “Nuh-uh” he growls, “You’re gonna watch while you fuck yourself on my thigh. You’re gonna see just how pathetic you are, crying with relief and coming undone when I’ve not even touched you.”
Matty’s words and the sight of him and you in the mirror add to the very quickly growing warmth in your body. Your skin is on fire as you grip the sink in front of you, trying to use whatever leverage you can to get yourself off faster. You take one hand to start kneading your tits, playing with your nipples, hoping some added stimulation will help; you whine at the new sensation.
“There you go princess, that’s it,” he coos in your ear, “so good f’me, taking directions so well baby.”
The praise goes straight to your core and you can feel yourself clench around nothing. Matty can tell by your breathing that you’re close, so he grabs you by your hips to help you, moving you back and forth on his thigh, assisting in your rhythm. “Come on my thigh,” he demands in your ear; and you do. That white-hot pleasure you’ve been chasing since you saw your boyfriend on the red carpet this afternoon finally washes over you. But it’s not enough.
Matty takes his fingers out of your mouth but keeps you firm against him. As you come down from your high, you look at him in the mirror desperately. Your orgasm was, well, an orgasm, but you know it could be so much better if he would just fuck you.
“Matty please,” You whine, still making sweet eye contact, “Baby, I need more.”
Matty nods his head in the direction of the door. “Put your dress on, love,” You think you might cry, until he whispers in your ear, “I’m not done with you yet, princess.”
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Ahh!! Should I write a pt. two when the couple gets home?? Thank y'all for reading my first smut omfg I can't believe I did this...
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Gin Gagamaru's music taste headcanons!
I would say he does listen to mainstream music, but the 2000's type of music.
Of course he knows what's popular now, it's just not his cup of tea.
He likes the classics that probably everyone knows.
It gives the 'ride with your parents to your holiday destination at 3 a.m.'.
He also enjoys some timeless hits, such as Modern Talking and ABBA.
As for the bands on his playlist, it's literally every single music genre known to human.
I would have him classified as Deftones boy, but in this lonely way. Due to him living away from society in his little forest.
He also listens to TV Girl, but does not know that some of the lyrics are showing extreme misogony and how bad society can get when it comes to women.
Your average Oingo Boingo enjoyer, which means he is the 'kind of weird, kind of cool' friend.
Likes Ghost, but has never seen any of their music videos — bless his "innocent" soul.
Would also love Red Hot Chili Peppers. Scar Tissue is one of his fave songs, due to his ear being ripped and him almost losing to the bear.
He enjoys Gorillaz and Daft Punk, but does not listen to them often.
Also knows The Weeknd, Tame Impala.
Got to know Air afer he watched the Virgin $uicide$ movie. He finds it confusing because be never was a 14 year old girl.
He has Mother Mother saved up on his playlist, but only listens to it when he is in specific mood.
Radiohead listener. Nothing else, just a weirdo.
Also loves Pink Floyd. I just have the feeling yk.
He loves the soundtrack from 'Hercules'. Knows every song's lyrics by heart.
He grew up with Disney, so he knows more movies.
Definitiely has a Hercules poster in his room and other stuff related to that movie.
Owns these 2005's type stereos and has a stack of CD's right next to it.
Had a walkman is some point of his life, now he just owns some JBL or Sony wireless headphones.
Music is not a big part of his life, but he does listen to it very often.
Loves cleaning and doing his homework to Pitbull music.
Reference pictures (Pinterest) :
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What do you think of the Horizon series?
I'm sure they're fine. They sound fun. They look fun. But there's also this weird vibe where they are maybe the most "Here is a shrine we built to spending a lot of money."
There's this sense that Horizon games kind of "fake" being important. They fall in to a specific archetype of open world game but never really set any standards or really evolve the genre or have much lasting impact beyond the standard six month release window.
Like, I'm still seeing people sharing Breath of the Wild videos of crazy things they pull off in that game. They never stopped. That game came out in 2017 and regardless of how close or far away the sequel was, people have always been buzzing about Breath of the Wild.
Same might be true Elden Ring. That game's over a year old and people are still doing weird things with it. It still has a presence.
I mean, heck, people are still doing wild things in GTA5, and that game is like a decade old!
Neither of the two Horizon games have that kind of presence. They came out, the mainstream said "yea that's good" and then moved on. Nobody in my purview is like "yeah guys I really love Horizon Zero Dawn so let's start a weird gimmick run where I try something new."
Which is fine. Games don't always have to shake the pillars of heaven. You can just be a regular old " good game" and that's okay.
But Aloy gets treated like this big important ambassador of a titanic Sony game franchise. I remember when Fortnite started doing game crossovers, we got Master Chief, Kratos, Lara Croft, Ryu and Chun-li, and then the next big character was... Aloy.
Who, at the time, only had one game to her name. And Fortnite was putting her in the "Gaming Legends" series next to people with decades of success behind them.
And now, y'know, there's a Genshin Impact crossover, there's all this merch, and she's on the cover of Vanity Fair... and it's like, really? For Horizon? The robot dinosaur game?
Like I said, I'm sure they're good games. I'm not doubting that. But they're not industry defining. They're not really risk taking. But they're being treated that way, when I have a hard time seeing Horizon being this timeless, eternal franchise with much staying power past, say, a third game.
It'd be like if Fortnite added, I dunno, Cole from inFamous as a "gaming legend." Like, in 2023, you're like "Who? Why?"
Horizon's popularity feels forced to some degree just because they throw a lot of money at it, but if it wasn't for that, it wouldn't get nearly as much hype or merchandise. And it's weird to realize that.
I have no immediate desire to play either of them.
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