Matty Healy Imagines

Selfish

Word Count: 2,302
Warnings: Smut! And a touch of angst.
Summary: "I know you have loads of prompts, but I saw this photo of Matty wearing a simple white tee with the sleeves rolled up and black slacks and he looked so pretty and made me imagine his girl seeing him and thinking he looks so good and healthy and she goes up to him and wraps her arms around him to hug him and they share a kiss which turns into her rubbing his stomach and going lower and slipping her hand inside his boxers, and of course that leads to some v nice intimate slow sex! I'm trash."

Matty had always been a stunner.

Something about him effortlessly screamed that on a daily basis. His jet black hair that curled and swirled soft as a cloud, his chocolate brown eyes that bore deeply into opposing eyes and searched for meaning and emotion - they chiseled this thin boy into an attractive man, one that girls hardly could keep their eyes off of. You were one of those girls.

A friend from the past, a fuckbuddy that kept in touch over the years, you had come to know Matty well in time. You knew his favorite food, what he liked to watch on the telly when his days grew boring, how he loved his head scratched. You heard his deepest secrets, mostly because you were that third party he could always rely to be there when things came up for him. You provided him with someone separate from the band, not swept up in his life yet still informed enough to act like a decision maker for when his hazy mind grew too clouded up to properly choose the path to lead him down. You appreciated him, and he appreciated you with sex. That was simply how your relationship worked. It was very inherently selfish on Matty's side, but you did not care. You knew some day, when the time came fit, Matty would not be opposed to you indulging yourself in a bit of selfishness with him.

The time had come.

Meeting up with him at an old club for old time's sake, you were shocked to see that the stunner you knew and came to admire for his looks and mind was absolutely handsome that night. The man you were used to seeing in all black and grungy looked positively dashing and incredibly healthy in a white tee with his sleeves rolled up and black slacks, his face flushed pink and lips as pink as ever. As he went to the bar and asked for a drink, probably some form of tequila if you knew him well enough, you felt your heart skip a beat. You knew that in this night, in this light, you were going to take your turn in the selfish game you both played. You knew that, by the time the two of you left that club, your lips would have touched and clothing would have been wrinkled from being discarded carelessly on the ground. Tonight, it was your turn. As you approached him, you tapped his shoulder. His face lit up as it met yours, not fully registering yet your intentions.

"{Y/N}! I was wondering when you'd show up. Fancy sitting down for a drink with me?"

"Actually," you said after toting a smile in greeting, "I have something else I'd fancy doing."

He still looked oblivious. Probably the tequila. "Oh?"

"Hug me, Matty."

He did it without further instruction. Hugs were easy, platonic even. He hugged everyone, guy or gal, as if it were a handshake or a simple hello. Even in his tipsy state, he still saw them as such. It was only when you pulled back and then closed the distance between your mouths that Matty realized your intentions were not of the same nature. He could feel the power grab between the both of you switch, with him on the losing side for once. It tantalized him, bringing him to the conclusion that the only way this would go down would be with him inside you, getting absolutely trashed by the shape of your body and the movements of your hips against his. You were needy, and this time, he had to be the one to give himself up to that need. Poetic justice, he thought to himself.