I Miss 2016

how is this the most erotic video ever to me oh my god??? the way matt’s not even able to stand on his own. the way he’s swaying and trying to hang onto ryan for support. matt watson please return to alcohol abuse i beg you!!! it’s so fucking hot watching you and your boytoy get inebriated!!!

anyways this is matt and ryan being emo for a singular moment. idc if its cringe i do get happy when they start singing fall out boy or panic at the disco or some shit like that😭

Detox Just to Retox by problematicworm

Maybe over the two years he’d been sober, Matt had forgotten just how bad it could get once he was deep in that hole. One he was wasted with no plan for how Future Matt would deal with the repercussions of Current Matt’s actions. Matt should have known it was a bad idea to drink. He could recognize that now, of course. Now that things had spun out of hand. Now that he was pinning Ryan down, watching his best friend gasp and rut up against his thigh like a dog that hadn’t been fixed. ——— Matt knows relapsing is a bad decision. Relapsing while hanging out with Ryan is an even worse decision.

Words: 6,743

Chapters: 1/1

Because, Ryan has a weird relationship with sex and power (he’s said something to the effect of, ‘you can control someone with sex’ on an episode of the pod, which like, woagh,,) so naturally i thought abt Ryan bottoming for the first time for Matt and how that would play out!!! 

Ryan propped up on his elbows and knees, resting his head in the inward crook of his bicep and forearm. The softer, vulnerable parts of him, the pale river trenches of stretch marks, the swell of his thighs. The more brackish, dead water parts of him, unpalatable and exposed, for Matt on his bed.

And in the space between the eddying breathes Ryan takes, the measured rise and fall of his ribcage, anticipation melds with fear. Because Matt has control over Ryan, over something as personal to him as his own pleasure. And Ryan’s yielding to him, completely at Matt’s will. It’s nauseating.

Matt sweeps a hand across Ryan’s thigh, thin jackknife curves of his fingers following the sure ridge of Ryan’s hip, heat from his palm spotlighting his lower back, and Matt’s telling Ryan to ‘relax’, absent-mindedly tracing the path along his spine. Open-palmed and experimental, a show of trust, like one would do with the downy underbelly of a puppy.

‘Breathe through your nose’ Matt’s voice is made of gravel, quiet and shot, echoing his own command in an attempt to coax Ryan to follow suit, pressing the tip of his cock to the rim of Ryan’s hole at his exhale, but Ryan’s still too tense. 

He feels humiliated, how he has to be guided by Matt like a herding pastor. And there’s some glum nostalgia in that feeling, that feeling of want conflated with hot shame, juvenile kudzu-like growths never truly pruned.