#aches | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

64yrsold · 4 months

Text

ACHES (bonus - 10.5) lassitude

18+ (please see masterlist for cw) a/n: here's the bonus first-time blurb i promised. i don't think i'll write anything else for aches but i did say that the last time lol. hope u like it!! ♥︎ aches masterlist

“You look drunk,” I giggled, pressing a thumb into his cheek. It was rough and cold, still bitten pink from the wind.

“Mm,” he mumbled, then laughed, “Don’t look at me that hard.” One jagged edge of his tooth caught my eye, and I brushed over it with my thumb. He bit at it, leaving a shallow indent in the soft center of my thumb. I wiped his saliva on his cheek.

“But you’re so pretty,” I whispered, trying to stumble out of my shoes.

“Pretty?” He didn’t seem ashamed of the compliment, just probing for more. He knelt down, wrapping a hand around my ankle as he slid my foot from my boot. I shivered, his palm warm on my skin.

“Like silk,” I twisted one of his curls between my fingers. He hummed, pulling my foot out of my other boot. I dug my fingers into his scalp, raking through his hair.

“Don’t like silk,” he noted, looking up at me from his knees. I pulled a grey hair from his head.

“Ouch,” I said for him, turning the silver thread between my fingers.

“What?” he blinked, unaware, “Did I hurt you?”

“Yes,” I teased, and shoved his shoulders, toppling him onto his back.

“Shit,” he giggled, grabbing for my wrists and tugging me down. I tumbled on top of him, elbowing his ribcage.

“Oh, shit,” I sputtered, and he groaned and whined under me, cradling his torso. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby.”

He let out a choked moan, “I’m great, I’m fine.” His scrunched nose and gritted teeth gave him away.

“Where’s it hurt?” I whispered, dragging my hands up and down his chest.

“Where you fuckin’ elbowed me, babe,” he grunted, smiling a bit.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I chanted, giggling through my slurred tongue.

“Yeah?” he said lowly, hooking a finger into the neckline of my dress, “Really sorry?”

“Mhm,” I nodded, pouting and performing for him. I liked the way his tongue dragged against his bottom lip, remembering what I tasted like. He tugged harshly on my dress. My skin rose where the back of his finger brushed against my breast, my heart jumping and reaching for him.

“Come here,” he whispered, tilting up his chin. He looked at me, through lashes and heavy lids, cheeks pink and lips flushed. “God, do I have to beg?”

I grinned, leaning down and laying my forearms on his chest. I touched my nose to his, smiling into the warm space between us.

“I like your place,” I said, my lower lip brushing his. He sighed up into me, a crack coming from back of his throat.

“The hotel?” he said, reaching his mouth for mine. I turned my face, letting him kiss my cheek and jaw. He groaned, his hands balling into fists at my hips.

“Yeah, I like the hotel,” I pushed my hands into his hair, thumbs tracing over his earlobes. His eyebrows drew together at the friction, lips parting as I dragged my nails against his scalp.

“I like the hotel,” he repeated stupidly, and I giggled. I kissed his cheek, listening to him inhale through his nose deeply.

“Are you tired?” I asked, nudging his cheekbone with my nose. His hair was unbelievably tangled between my fingers, knotting in my hands. I imagined twisting it into rope, binding and tethering my hands to him.

“No, sweetheart,” he wrapped his arms around my back, sitting up. I sat above him, happy on his lap, my lips to his forehead and his mouth on my chest.

“This hurts my knees,” I complained, the carpet digging into the bone. He kissed my collarbone, lips smacking against the skin. His lips were wet when he looked up at me.

“Should we go to bed?” He reached for a strand of hair that had fallen in front of my eye, pulling it behind my ear. It popped out as soon as his hand fell to my back. I nodded.

The bed was soft when he threw me on it, and he laughed as I pulled the hem of my dress down.

“What?” I said, raising my eyebrows.

“You’re pretty,” he smiled, “Like silk.”

“And?”

He tutted, “Greedy.”

I nodded, “And?”

“Drunk.”

“I’m not!” I kicked at his thigh, which he dodged expertly. He pulled at his tie, tossing it on the bed beside me. I grabbed it, twisting it around my arm tightly. I liked the pressure building in my fingertips, the red blooming up my wrist. He laid down beside me, on top of the blankets. He kissed my palm, unwrapping the tie.

“You could,” I swallowed, looking at the fabric in his hands, “tie me up.”

He chuckled, “Yeah?”

My heart tripped, “Yeah.”

“Guess I could,” he crawled on top of me, sitting between my thighs. My chest cracked open, my heart spilling out in front of him. My pulse drilled in my ears as I watched him pull the tie between his fingers, wrapping it around his fist. He dragged the fabric against my cheek, sweet and slow, watching my eyelashes flutter and chest rise for him. It was pathetic, how I was pooling and desperate for him, how my cheeks flushed and my fingertips went cold. It wasn’t fair, how his tie smelled like smoke as he brought it down my neck, over my shoulder, and down my arm. He raised my wrist, wrapping the tie around it gently. I watched his hands work, eyes wide and unblinking. My ears were ringing, the room suddenly quiet. He took his hands away, a pretty bow tied around my wrist.

“I–” I began to protest, quieting as he kissed at my wrist, around the bow.

“What?” He asked, looking at me with his lips on my skin.

I sighed, “That’s not what I wanted.”

“I know what you want,” he licked his lips.

“Then why can’t I have it?” I pressed, and he leaned low, kissing me softly.

“You can,” he said, and it was a promise. It was etched into my skin, engraved into the front of my skull. It looped in my ears, echoed down my spine.

“Today?” I whispered, and he kissed me again. It was gentle, just to feel me.

“I don’t know,” he murmured, his nose knocking against mine as he moved to lay beside me. He pulled a pillow under my head, pushing his leg between my thighs and his arms around my back. He kissed me, lazy and drunk, letting heat wash over my face and seep throughout my body. My dress was hitched up to my waist, his clothed thigh against the lace of my underwear. But he just kissed me, letting a haze fall over us, letting a hum sing between us as our hearts synced. He laughed softly when I gasped, his hand crawling up my spine. He kissed and licked my mouth, indulging in my every whimper. I was begging for more, for friction or pain, but he gave me feather touches and teardrop kisses. He held me like the ocean, he felt like a current in my blood. I was deeply, deeply in love with him.

“Do you like me?” I murmured into the dark, his lips catching my question. He brushed my hair back slowly, looking at me carefully. His eyes answered me before his mouth.

“I like you,” he said anyway, dragging a thumb over my eyebrow. “I like you forever.”

I giggled, “I like you forever.”

“I think you’re the only one,” he pressed a finger into the lines on my forehead, “I think you’re the only one.”

“I’m not drunk anymore,” I mumbled, holding his wrist. My lips were buzzing from his, but all I felt was calm.

“I could touch you,” he whispered, unsteady. My mouth went dry with lust, and I pressed my lips together. “No?”

“Yes,” I said quickly, kissing his palm, “Of course, yes.”

His hands found my back again, pulling me impossibly closer as his lips pressed to mine once more. He sighed when I kissed him back, mumbling baby baby as I took his lower lip between my teeth. I pulled open his shirt, button by button, his chest warm and heaving. I pressed my hands over his chest, palms pushing into his skin, running up and down his stomach and gripping his collarbones. I touched his throat, flattening my palm against it to feel him swallow. I moved to feel his heart in his carotid, bursting against my fingertips. His body was an entheogen, and I prayed to the desires he elicited in me.

“Have you thought about this?” I asked, and he took a deep breath when our lips came apart.

His hand met my thigh, squeezing as he replied, “Thought about what?” He was being playful, wanting to tease dirty words from me.

I kissed him, “Having me in bed.” He grinned at my blunt reply.

“What should I say?” He asked, trailing his hand up my leg, meeting the thin lace at the top of my thigh.

“Say you do,” I said, gasping as his fingers traced the frilly edge of my underwear. “Say you think of me all the time.”

“I do think of you all the time,” he rasped, and I believed him, “and I’ve been desperate to have you to myself.” He took the lace at my hip in his fist now, pulling it down my legs. He left it at my ankles, watching me closely as he pressed his thumb into the soft skin above my hip.

“Do you,” I started, my voice sounding weaker than I hoped, “touch yourself to me?”

He nodded, nose nudging my cheek. I smiled at that.

“What else?” I breathed, wanting to hear everything. Every dirty thought he had about me, everything he fantasized about me.

“You don’t want to know,” he said, joking. I huffed, and he smiled. “I don’t want to tell you.”

“Say–” I groaned, shuddering as his fingernails ghosted over my lower stomach, “Say you want to fuck me.”

He kissed me, deep and heavy, tongue between my teeth, pulling all the air from my lungs. He dragged two fingers between my thighs, groaning thickly into my mouth. He caught every choked gasp, every tiny moan and aching whimper I passed to him, licking for more eagerly. He let his fingers trace around my entrance, bored or just savoring me, guided by my quickened cries. I was fixated on the way his mouth mimicked his hand, pushing and pressing, gentle and circling, his tongue and fingers filling me. I held his hair in fistfuls, twisting my legs around his waist as he teased and coaxed.

“Love you,” he murmured, as if he had said it a thousand times, “love you, love you.” I kissed him harder, hands behind his neck, hoping to weld our bones together. I stuttered, thighs tensing as his thumb edged against my clit.

“You feel—” I managed, then buried my face in his neck as he found a pretty rhythm, my eyes squeezing shut. I was gasping heavily now, my chest meeting his quickly, my dress feeling tight and restrictive over me. The bow on my wrist was untying, draping over his back. It twisted under his arm as I brought my hand to his jaw, stealing a few kisses and panting into his mouth. He seemed to like my nails in his jawbone, his throat reverberating against my skin. Each swipe of his fingers left me hungrier, left my mind circling and wondering about what he would feel like.

I let go of him, finding the hem of my dress instead, trying to wrestle it over my head. He smiled against my cheek, withdrawing his hand to help me with my dress. He pushed it up to my ribs, then pulled me to sit up. I sat in front of him, legs crossed, looking up at him. His eyes were bright, lips red and swollen. Looking at him seemed to soften time, blurring the minutes together. He kissed my shoulder as he pulled my dress over my head, the weight of it all lifting off of me. I felt vulnerable, but noticed his eyes didn’t fall or wander. He just watched my eyes, watched them wonder and beg.

“You’re so pretty,” he finally said, lip between his teeth. I twisted a smile off my mouth, undoing his belt carefully. “I have to be so careful.”

I shook my head, “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” he whispered, shouldering off his unbuttoned shirt. “I want to.”

If I thought about it too hard, I would cry.

“Can you take these off?” I murmured instead, tugging at his waistband. He bit his cheek, unzipping his pants.

“These?” He teased, discarding his pants to the floor. I rolled my eyes weakly, laying on my back. He spread my legs with his thighs, tucking a hand behind my head. My legs were already shaking, caused by the cruel mixture of cold air and my desperation.

“I really need you,” I confessed, and he pressed a paper kiss to my cheek. His head fell to the crook of my shoulder, a sigh falling from his mouth as he stroked himself. I reveled in the way his breath fell over my breasts, a delicate warmth I craved as soon it was gone.

“I’m gonna be slow,” he said, grainy and shaking. I didn’t care, but I nodded quickly, my hands soft and brushing his back. I whined as he dragged his tip against my core, reaching a hand down to feel him. He was slow when he pushed into me, my hand still at his base. I whimpered, hand trailing up his chest to let him sink into me.

“Fuck,” I mumbled, brain spinning in my skull at the fullness of him.

“Fuck,” he returned, rocking into me gently. He pushed through my cracked groans, his punishingly slow pace leaving me restless and wanting to scream. He soothed me with his hands, palming at my breasts and pressing into my neck, always gentle but heavy enough to placate me.

“Please, I–” I begged, sounding wrecked and breathless. He seemed desperate to fuck harder into me, his hips stuttering with each stroke. “Let me on top.”

“You feel so good,” he groaned, but pulled out of me with a sigh, lying on his back. He was gorgeous, eyes fluttering and mouth gently open. I kissed the pink on his cheeks when I threw my leg over him, feeling weak but too frantic to care. I knelt over his thighs, feeling watched as I took his length in my hand. My body throbbed just looking at him, stiff in my fist, his stomach tightening with each breath. I dipped my head down, looking up at him as I flattened my tongue against his cock, licking up the underside of it. His mouth opened softly, a quiet groan escaping his throat. I circled my tongue around his tip, watching his brows pull together. I took him into my mouth, his jaw flexing, and let him hit the back of my throat.

“Fuck, fuck—“ he moaned, his hands reaching up to grip the headboard. Warmth pooled in my stomach at the sight, and I hollowed my cheeks, trying my best to please him as I bobbed on his cock. He hissed each time I pushed him into my throat, mumbling incoherently when I maintained a steady rhythm.

“I’m gonna— fuck—“ he groaned, and I let him out of my mouth with a pop. I straddled his hips, his eyes wide.

“You okay?” I asked, and he nodded, swallowing quickly.

“Fucking perfect, sweetheart,” he said, grasping my waist as I ground against his length. He let out a slow sigh through tight lips, flittering between squeezing his eyes shut and staring up at me, lust hazy in his eyes. I unclasped my bra, his eyes flicking downwards, then back to me.

“You can look,” I giggled, leaning forward with my palms on his chest.

“Shit,” he grunted, “I can’t believe how fucking perfect you are.” He pushed a hand between the valley of my breasts, gripping the side of my neck firmly. I watched him as I reached for his cock, lining him up with my center slowly. His chest quickened, and I leaned into his hand on my neck as I sunk onto him.

“Fu-uck,” he cried, fingers digging into my hip as I let him fill me, my head feeling light. I moaned into the space between us, circling my hips for my pleasure only. He didn’t mind, grabbing both of my thighs when I started to rock against him. He felt fucking delicious, and I couldn’t help but ride him faster, breath catching in my throat each time my hips met his. His hands crawled over me, whispering pretty praises as I senselessly bottomed out, again and again until my vision blurred. He groaned, fucking up into me as my pace slowed from exhaustion, his hands guiding my hips.

“I can’t,” I gasped, “much longer.”

He nodded, and flipped us over swiftly, maintaining the reckless pace I set. I grasped for his bicep, then trailed a finger down his chest, awe-stricken and spoiled. His curls stuck to his forehead as he thrust against me, kissing my cheek every chance he could. He was overwhelming, but kept finding my gaze to make sure I was still there. I anchored myself to his sound, his quiet groans, the sound of our skin. He pressed two fingers into my clit, rubbing until I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I reached to claw at the sheets, then his back.

“I’m—“ I mumbled, and he listened, fucking me steadily until I choked through a scream, burying it in his neck. My orgasm cracked through my body, catching me by surprise. I wanted to last longer, to last forever, but the pleasure splitting through my veins dulled this desire.

“Can I—“ he breathed, jaw slack above me. He was gorgeous, fucked-out and begging for me.

“Inside, inside,” I whispered, still hazy and burning with bliss. All I could hear were his strained breaths, melodic to my ear. His hips stuttered once, twice, then he pulled out, spilling warmth on my stomach.

“Shit,” he growled, forehead stuck to my collarbone. He nipped at the skin there as he rolled beside me, his sticky chest pressed against my arm. I turned my head to kiss him, and he was tender against my sore lips. He kissed it all better, his hands soothed and stroked the pulse in my neck, taming me and bringing me back to him. I could feel it between us, some eternal thing, glowing against the back of him and onto me.

He hummed, knuckles soft on my cheek, “So pretty.” He kissed my forehead, ducking into the washroom and returning with a damp cloth. It was cold when he pressed it over my stomach, and he laughed under his breath at my dissatisfied cooes. He had the blankets over me, sliding in behind me before I could mouth another complaint.

“You want a bath?” he asked, lips in my hair.

“I want you again,” I said, feeling his chest shake with a laugh.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing my shoulder. I slept in his arms, having cotton-like, frothy dreams, waking to a new one each time he tossed in his sleep. I’d wake him up with kisses on his wrist, or he’d wake me, a thumb circling my stomach, then dipping into me, wet and waiting for him always. He’d be slow and languid, both of us in a comfortable state of lassitude, coaxing me to finish with compliments and breathy moans.

“You’re so pretty when you sleep,” he would murmur, fingers curling inside of me. “I can see you dreaming.” I could only whimper, cheeks flushing as he pushed me over, waiting for me at the bottom. I curled into his chest, kissing the sweat off his sternum until we slept again.

“Love you,” I would whisper, only when I was sure he was asleep.

#matty healy #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty the 1975 #matty x reader #matty healy x reader #64matty #aches #matty healy oneshot #matty healy smut

207 notes · View notes