Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It started small.

You needed to run some errands, and it was good for Doey to get out into the real world– so, on a hot summer day, you managed to squeeze him into the passenger seat of your truck, and you headed into town. The heat inspired some classlessness in you, so you left the house without putting on a bra– and while you were typically a little more put together than this, you let the strap of your tank top fall over your shoulder as you made a wide right turn. In your periphery, Doey watched. He deigned even to lay his arm along the back of your seat, his fingers touching your left shoulder, lightly. It was an invitation– one which you ignored for the purpose of mischief, and that…

… that was what had started it. You enjoyed pretending as though you hadn’t noticed at all how you were teasing him, and you enjoyed the idea that some part of him was growing frustrated, maybe even frustrated enough to take it out on you once you got home. That was the idea, anyway.

Doey, after the incident at Playtime, now a year ago and some change, had returned to you different– the Doey that you’d met in those awful few days was as complete of a person as he’d ever been, and the way that things had ended between you two had left him in shambles. He had died, and he’d come back as a new person– or, rather, he had come back as three new persons.

The separation between Matthew, Kevin, and Jack was no longer a fine line, but a canyon; sometimes, you still had the Doey that you loved back, but most of the time you were dealing with one or the other. Today, you mostly had Doey. You’d never tell him this, but Doey was your favorite. You cherished your time with him– that was perhaps why you’d started your adventure today already just a bit keyed up and ready for some excitement.

Your errands brought you to a clothing store. It was no easy ask to find something in Doey’s size, and you’d mostly been taking the largest clothes you could find at the store and altering them yourself with discount fabric from Joann’s. He had to wear something that would cover him entirely, and he had to disguise his head with hats, hoods, sunglasses– it was the only way he could go outside and live a semi-normal life… and for anyone who noticed that his skin was blue and clay-like– well, he had a condition. That had been enough to shut down almost any questioning. It was a miracle of human consciousness how averse people were to impolite questions, and how willing they were to accept that a playdough monster could simply be a man with a condition.

“Angel,” Doey whispered to you, just on the other side of a clothing rack. “You should get something for yourself. I feel so bad that you spend all your money on me, these days…”

You peered up at him over some 5XL Hawaiian print button-downs. Your expression was appreciative, and you took his suggestion at face value with a grateful ‘Aww…’, but you almost immediately gave him a brow raise, suspicion in it.

He smiled at you, and lifted up a white sundress. “You should try it on before you buy it though.”

Ah. There it was. You tilted your chin back, giving him a look . You draped the shirts that you had selected, and made your way towards him to take the sundress, and he took the shirts from you– predictably, Doey followed you to the changing rooms, and when you opened the door to one, he tried to follow you in.

You pushed him back by his chest, snickering, and you wagged your finger at him.

He started to complain. “Aw, wait, I can’t come in– hey...!”

His protest was cut short by you shutting the door in his face. You laughed to yourself, and started to pull on the dress over your clothes– you didn’t really like the dress, but you were still set on teasing him throughout your trip, so you obliged him just so you could egg him on.

Doey waited outside, and after only a brief minute or so, you opened the door for him to look.

“Oh– oh wow, you look amazing…!” He enthused, genuinely– the compliment was real, you felt, and merely a side effect to his initial ruse to get you to change in front of him. You bit your lip, happily, letting him see you– and, after you stuck your head out to make sure no one was looking, you pulled the top part of the dress down to flash him. You had pretty, small but perky breasts, one nipple sporting a new piercing that was still quite sensitive.

His eyes widened, before something intense flickered over his face, and he put a large orange hand on the door just as you moved to close it again. You started laughing again.

“You little shi– come on, let me in .” Doey pulled the door towards him, but after a moment succumbed to laughter too, and you put all your weight into trying to close the door again, leaning back on the handle with both hands. He let go and you accidentally slammed it shut– at that, you could hear a store employee come around the corner and ask if everything was alright.

“Yes! We’re fine, sorry, we were just… we’re fine.” You heard him quickly try and explain himself, and you smiled triumphantly as you pulled the dress off, and started to get dressed again in the clothes you’d come in with.

The next incident would be at the grocery store. You had taken him into the beauty section so that you could get some more soap– it was a task keeping half a ton of clay clean, so you were looking into the body wash. He had stuck closer to you after the changing room, picking up on what you were doing by teasing him, but powerless to do much about it until you both got home. While you looked for what you wanted, you did a double take at Doey– he was hunched over a display in the cosmetics, picking up some sample bottles and smelling them, one by one.

“...” You made your way over to see what he was up to. There were a few lotions out, all different scents.

“This one is nice,” He said, offering you one to smell. You leaned in to give it a sniff– indeed, it was nice. Vanilla and orange scented.

You pointed at the lotion, and then pointed at his hand as if to ask if he wanted to try it on.

“Oh– can we? I thought maybe they were just here for us to smell…” He said, looking back at the different options.

You shook your head, and took the lotion from him. You squeezed a healthy amount of it into your palm, definitely way more than was socially acceptable to take from a sample bottle, but you then took Doey’s hand and started to massage it in.

Surprise melted into annoyance and realization in his face– he caught onto the fact that he had just walked right into another trap of yours, but it didn’t stop him from watching what you were up to. You spread both of your palms over his knuckles, over his wrist… one hand massaged his forearm, and the other hand slid slick through his fingers, closing over them– you watched his face as you started to pump each finger, squeezing lightly, your wrist moving in a technique that Doey was well familiar with on other parts of his anatomy. 

“You’re evil,” He sighed, leaning down for a kiss, but you turned your head to the side.

His other hand sneaks over to touch your hip, as if to ask for permission to grab your ass, and you shy away from him, shrugging in feigned innocence. You might as well have had a halo over your head. Your smile is insufferably smug, and you know it.

The next incident, you took a bit too far. Even you would admit that.

In the produce section, you look for some vegetables and fruits to take home, some for snacking, some for cooking. You have a particular affection for avocados, but that meant you were particular over them– so, Doey helps you sort, looking for ones without soft spots, ones that were ripe and large. You stood in front of the stand directly, sorting through what you could reach at the front, and Doey stood behind you. He was taller, so he could reach the ones that you couldn’t in the middle of the display.

That was when you had a truly, truly diabolical idea, especially since you were not alone– busy shoppers went past you, going about their lives without a single clue about what a freak you were. You’re not above knowing that you’re freaky. You had a clay monster for a boyfriend, after all.

But you were kind of a slut, too. That much was apparent when you pretended to see an avocado that you wanted out of reach, and instead of pointing at it for Doey to grab, you braced yourself against the stand to reach for it– and you pushed your ass square against his crotch.

Direct hit. No survivors. Doey let out a soft gasp, a noise you had never heard him make before, and it set your skin on fire. He grabbed your hip to push you off of him, instinctively, and it took everything in your power to pretend not to notice, so that you could hop for the avocado that you were pretending to reach– and do it again.

Your ass bumped into his crotch again, this time with extended contact with his lap. He let out another noise, and– “Jesus, Angel–” He hissed, tense.

The avocado dropped into your palm from an orange hand. He had grabbed it for you, hastily, and he then pulled away to grab your shopping cart, his head down.

You looked over your shoulder, watching him leave. You felt bad– sort of. You tossed the avocado back into the pile with another triumphant smile. It had served its purpose.

The drive home was quiet.

You had gone a little too far with the last stunt, but you really, really liked teasing him– and why couldn’t you? He did it to you. Your hands were glued to the steering wheel, but you noticed that this time, Doey made no moves to touch you– no laying his arm over your seat, no resting his hand on your thigh. You pouted. Had you really upset him that much?

But, you suspected something else was going on– you were keen to Doey’s shifts in mood, in personality, and you realize, with some annoyance…

He spoke, “When we get home, I can unload everything for you, Angel– thank you so much for taking care of us. You just relax, okay?” 

… fucking God dammit, Matthew had taken over.

You internally groan. You hadn’t had much experience with fucking the individual personalities just yet, but Matthew was far too much of a gentleman to take out any of the stress that you’d put on him on you– far too much of a gentleman to touch you without asking permission first. That wasn’t a bad thing, of course– but you had laid so much groundwork into riling him up because you wanted him to fuck you hard. That seemed like an impossibility, now.

You parked your car in the driveway to your apartment, and as he promised, Doey got out to grab all of the bags you’d just bought– you barely were able to pick up two of them, and he took care of the rest. You smiled. It was nice to be with someone so capable, and so willing to help you with things– that was new, for you, to date someone like this.

You sighed as you made your way into the apartment, exhaling through your nose and stepping out of your shoes. You were pretty worked up and you just wanted him to push you against a wall and have you. You’d been hoping for that all afternoon, but the Doey that followed you in does no such thing– instead, he immediately sprouted several arms to help him put away all that needed to be put away, sorting vegetables and fruits into tubs, meat into the freezer…

… you set the two bags that you brought in on the breakfast table, and you were about to unpack them when your landline phone rang.

“...” Doey glanced over his shoulder. He hadn’t been here long enough to actually ever see you answer a phone call, before, although clearly you had to, sometimes. He didn’t pressure you by staring, though, and you stepped forward to pick up the phone.

“H–” You didn’t get the first word out when the person on the other line started to yell.

[“Angel! Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling you for like an hour.”]

You groaned, out loud. It was your older sister– whom you did not get along with. This was an even bigger buzzkill. You started to reply, when…

[“--okay shut up SHUT UP, escúchame, I called to tell you– I forgot to tell you I’m getting married next week. Mama asked if you had your dress yet, and I was like– ohhh, I totally forgot to tell Angel, whoops! Anyway, so, you need to be at the venue at–”]  

You listened, but the shock that most people would have at the news that not only was their sister engaged, but getting married in a week, and also the fact that she had forgotten to even tell you– you aren’t shocked. At all. In fact, you looked a little bored as she explained this all to you– this was all typical Ximena, par for the fucking course.

You picked up a little notebook that you kept tied next to the phone, and started to write down some of the details that she was spouting at you. You had scratched down Ximena wedding, 2pm, next Saturday, when you saw Doey’s shadow cast over the notebook pad– you assumed that he was curious about the call, so you leaned to the side to let him see the notebook.

He put his mouth on your neck, instead, his hand sliding under your shirt and squeezing your breast, right over where your new piercing was, and you let out a loud, sensitive gasp.

Ximena continued, unabashed, [“-- I know, right?! I was surprised at the price, too, si mira that’s why I didn’t invite you, because they charge per head, so like, I’m just going to tell them you’re with the photographers, because–”]

You completely lost track of what she was saying, biting your lip as Doey starts to pinch and twist at your breast. You turned your head to look up at him, the phone tilting away from your ear in your relaxed grip– you gave him a wild, bewildered look, and he just smiled down at you. 

“You started this,” He reminded you, quietly, and you reddened. His candor is still calm, confident, and a realization hit you, something that warmed you straight to the core– this…

… is still Matthew.

You were still grappling with that when he shoved you against the wall, which made you fumble the phone and squeak– you grabbed it, haphazardly, although your mind was anywhere but listening to a wedding that you barely even cared about.

[“Hello? What happened, did you drop the phone? You’ve always been so clumsy. Like, Mama said you should come help with the decorations, but like, I was like, no way, Angel isn’t good at that kind of thing–”]

Doey had your head in his palm, and two other hands took your hips to crash your ass back against him, roughly, but this time, you felt something large pressing against your clothing, an appendage prodding right up into you so forcibly that you felt it start to penetrate you through your flimsy shorts.

You slammed the receiver down to hang up, suddenly, just before you let out an obvious moan.

“You–” Doey moved too late to stop you, but he laughed it off, grabbing both of your hands to pin to the wall.

“Oh, you’re so lucky that I didn’t catch that before you hung up– I thought this was a pretty clever punishment…!” He murmured into your ear, grinding into you from behind, the pressure on your hips pushing you back against his length.

You wiped your mouth on your shoulder, shaking your head. You were starting to drool. He grabbed a handful of your hair, suddenly, his grip tight–

“You wanna pull that again? What you did in the store– I can’t believe you did that in public , Angel…”

You let out another loud noise when he yanked at your hair, his hips driving the thick length against you with a strength that your clothing could not possibly match– you felt it press in by an inch, the seams tearing and giving way.

Matthew’s voice sounded through Doey’s mouth in a way that made your knees weak, his deep voice at your ear, an air of authority in it: “Take off your clothes or I’m going to tear it off of you.”

Oh, you felt dizzy. He let your hands go, and you immediately started to obey him, starting with your tank top, but–

… the phone began to ring again. You had quick reflexes, and you moved to rip the land wire out of the phone– but he was prepared for you, this time, and your wrists were snapped up by clay before you could even touch it. Oh no.

Doey plucked up the receiver, daintily, between two fingers, and gently put it against your ear.

Fuck.

[“Oh, wow, I think we got disconnected. Anyway, I was talking about the colors– so, on Saturday, the colors are going to be white, blue– like a green sort of blue, like a teal– or maybe, like a sage green– okay, I lied, I think it’s green–”]

You made some pathetic noises of fake agreement, and while one of his hands held the phone for you, the others moved to make good on his promise– you had reached for the phone instead of taking off your clothes, so the hands tore it off you.

Your shorts fell into pieces, and your underwear followed suit, a riiiip! noise sounding loudly, enough to cover that you had let out another aroused gasp.

[“-- well, don’t start to put a dress together yet, like I said, I might just have you pretend to be the help, so you could just wear a black button up and black jeans, and maybe–”]

If you could listen to this call on mute, you would have been so glad that Doey was helping you get through this, because you think you might have blown your brains out if you had to listen to this without doing anything else– but the prospect of making too loud a noise was enough of a risk that you also somewhat regretted teasing him.

But, even if he fucked you now, that had kind of been what you had wanted, and now to find out that Matthew of all people was capable of fucking you roughly– it made you wonder if it had always been Matthew that fucked you like this. The way that he gave you commands, the way that he smiled as he did it– you had always somewhat assumed that it was the influence of Jack or Kevin that had made Doey so irresistibly dominant with you, but now…

You were excited. You wanted this. Only…

You suddenly smelled vanilla, and oranges. Your head snapped back to get a look, and you saw the lotion in Doey’s hand, a brand new one– you gave him a wide-eyed look. You stole that?!

He grinned at you, and emptied it into his palm. His hand slid between your legs, and lathered the lotion onto your thighs, slowly, sensually, his thumb pressing against your cunt every few strokes, as if by accident. He was ridiculously good at this kind of thing.

You let out a squeak, melting into his touch, forgetting yourself for a moment. Ximena kept right on talking– she barely ever focused on anything but herself, which you usually hated, but it served you well in this moment. You ached between your legs, and you were getting so wet– the prospect of that length that had just been pressing into you through your clothes returning was turning your mind nice and numb, and you almost wanted to tell Doey to hurry the fuck up.

What he did instead was close your legs, tightly. His hands slid from your hips to press your legs together, and the thick appendage pushed between your slick thighs instead. 

That wasn’t what you had been hoping for, but God is it hot! It isn’t relief, though, just the opposite– he started to fuck your thighs, slowly at first, his shaft pushing through your soft legs. He tried to quiet his own noises down, exhaling, and his cock slid up enough that the length of it rubbed mercilessly against your cunt, so close but so far. Every few thrusts angled in such a way that his clay grinded against your clit. The friction was so terribly hot that it was driving you crazy.

You bit your lip to keep from making noises, inhaling and trembling, and he murmured into your ear again, too quiet to be heard by the phone:

“Not fun getting teased, is it?” He kissed your ear. “ So, are you ready to be a good girl…?”

You let out a high-pitched moan at that, you couldn’t control yourself. Matthew calling you that lights every nerve in your body on fire. Your sister responds in your other ear, casually, mistaking your noise as one of disgust in reference to whatever she had been talking about.

[“-- oh, it’s not THAT bad, don’t be a baby. My rash isn’t anywhere anyone can see, the dress I picked totally covers it. By the way, did I hear a guy over there, earlier?”]

This question totally snapped you from your haze, and you stood up straighter, looking caught. You chewed on an answer slowly, but you settled on a half-hearted mhm in response. Not really wanting to get into it right now.

[“It’s not Dominic, is it? You better not be with him again pendeja so help me God.”]

Doey stopped, briefly, looking down at you with a raised brow.

You gulped, meeting his gaze. You kept eye contact with him as you quickly murmured a no into the receiver.

[“Bitch why do you have a new guy over at your place every time I see you? It looks so bad on us as a family, you know. Mama said to say that you can bring your new boyfriend but personally I don’t think you should. Your lifestyle is so embarrassing.”]

You rolled your eyes. There were no right answers with her. You sighed, brow furrowing, and Doey let go of one of your hands– you gave him a grateful look as you took the phone in hand. Finally, it sounded like she was going to let you go.

[“Okay, don’t forget all the shit I just told you, and I’ll see you Saturday. Byeeeeee.”]

You mumbled bye, and hung up the phone… you hoped that he wouldn’t ask you to clarify what she’d been asking about just now, and thankfully, he didn’t.

He did, however, grab you by your hair again, yanking your head back once more as he started to fuck your thighs. This time, he didn’t hold back, and the movement of his cock popping through your thighs was rapid. You let it all out, finally, moaning loud, begging him to stop and take you– he let out a snicker, sprouting more hands to grope your breasts, one hand for each.

“You’re getting so wet. You wouldn’t cum just from this , would you? Not after being sooo–” His voice hitched as he groaned, his thrusts slowing but intensifying, his clay slapping against your ass so hard that your skin was starting to turn pink. “-- sure of yourself, earlier… next time I might just fuck you right there. I should have just had you in that changing room…”

The lotion had helped at first, but it was entirely unnecessary now– he was right, you were so wet that his cock slid easily without it. He let go of your other hand, abandoning whatever guise of control you had over the situation– because you could not do anything to stop him, anyway. He grabbed your hips again, and leaned back, pulling you away from the wall until he was basically just thrusting into you while standing. Every thrust came tantalizingly close to just pushing inside of you, but he was intent on not letting that happen.

“Oh, I love how you practically beg… ” He breathed out, and you shuddered. He was so right. You would cum just from this.

“You’re so cute, I can’t stand it sometimes– How much control I need to have o-over…I just wanna–”

He let out a moan, and you felt him throb between your legs.

“ Ruin you, Angel…”

Those words strung through you, coiled you inside so tightly that you could hardly fucking stand it either. You’re practically adrift, now, just letting him do what he wanted with you, letting the tide take you. You hardly even realized that you murmured something which stops him entirely: you moan his name.

Not Doey. You had breathed out the faintest, most pathetic Matthew, lust overtaking you in the moment– you reddened out of embarrassment when he stopped, eyes wide. You weren’t even sure that this was who was talking to you, and when he stopped thrusting, you were certain that it was probably because you’d made a mistake, or maybe it was weird–

But, he lifted you up, skirting his hand down to part your cunt with his fingers– on his next thrust, the head of his length pressed against you, but popped away as he shoved in, and he let out a growl as he tried again, thrusting, his fingers spreading you wider. The second thrust was less coordinated than the first, as if he really was just losing control– he made one last frustrated noise, before the last thrust finally drove into you solidly, his size filling your walls until you made a strained noise akin to a gag. He had pushed so much into you that your stomach bulged.

One of his hands closed entirely around your waist, and you put both of your palms on it, as if simply holding on for the ride.

“Good girl,” He hissed, “Good fucking girl, moan my name again…”

You felt like a toy in his hand, and you obeyed him, of course, moaning his name louder. You let out a cry of pain as he yanked your legs open, and then started to fuck you by moving you with the hand on your waist, pumping himself into you like holding a fleshlight.

“Fuck– fuck, you’re so cute…” He hung his head over your shoulder, and you felt him drip onto your hot skin. The way he melted was so, so captivating, and pride swelled in your chest for being the one to cause that– his grip on you shifted ever so slightly as his body turned to putty, although the appendage that he pumps in and out of you was very solid.

Your moans started to pitch higher, and you could tell already by the way that your extremities started to warm and tingle that this was one of those orgasms that would rock your entire body . His thick length bucked up into you in addition to his hand pumping you down onto him, and that motion sent you over, the friction between you both much too hot for you to handle. You whined and whimpered and cried out his name again, begging him for something, anything, falling apart in his grip. The orgasm washed over you, saliva dripping from your mouth again, your hands curling against the hand on your waist.

Doey started to thrust, and he groaned along with you– his cock throbbed, and he shoved you all the way down to the base when he finally started to cum– you screamed, the feeling filling you. 

“Oh, baby, ” He breathed out, shakily, running his melting hand over his face, leaving all kinds of smears on you from where he’d been holding on. He’d made a mess of you.

He shuddered, holding you still, keeping his cock buried inside you for a few moments longer. It wasn’t nearly finished exploding inside you, some last hurrahs pulsing every few seconds, each one causing a sensitive jolt to flash through you as you felt more pump in. You closed your legs on him, squirming, riding out the last vestiges of pleasure. Your throat felt sore from screaming and moaning so much.

Finally, he pulled out of you, setting you down onto your feet, politely holding his arm out still to help you keep your balance. Despite everything, you reddened a little bit at that gesture– it was still Matthew, after all. Still such a gentleman.

“Jeez. Uhm– sorry about your clothes,” He said, surfacing from whatever psychosis he had just gone through. You eyed him strangely– he was, even when he wasn’t Doey, a mess of contradictions– you understood, suddenly, how someone who was usually so calm and sweet could have such a craving for something just a little bit less civilized. You liked that about him.

He picked up the pieces of your shorts and underwear. “Maybe you should have bought that dress,” He teased.

You rolled your eyes, and tried to make it to the sink without dripping too much onto your kitchen floor– you were not succeeding.

Doey pulled his boxers back on from where he’d dropped them in the kitchen, snickering. “Well, maybe I just think you’d look nice in white.”

You were catching your breath, leaning against the counter. You gave him a look like, you can’t be fucking for real. You gestured down at yourself, covered in blue and red and orange and yellow– and you turned to start to get at least a little bit more clean in the sink, when the exact meaning of his words hit you, and you paused.

Oh. You tried not to blush even worse– you had never, ever seen yourself getting married. You don’t want to think about the logistics of any of that, and Doey seemed to pick up on your hesitance to even acknowledge his joke. He stepped forward to help you wash.

“So– plus one for your sister’s wedding?” He asked, gently. “Do you think I could really go?”

You look up at him. You’re not sure, but going without him sounded horrible to you. You nodded, slowly.

What could go wrong?