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mrssturnioloo · 1 day ago

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don't wanna sleep alone.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 chris sturniolo x fem!reader

content warning: nsfw content. mentions of alcohol. porn with some plot. unprotected sex. strangers. one night stand. backshots. cream pie. fingering. oral (m receiving). mentions of biting. spanking. light choking & dirty talk.

word count: 2.8k

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you hate going out. you never know why you agree to it. sure, you love a more intimate pregame; a few friends, your favorite drinks and shared playlist playing at a respectable level through someone’s bluetooth speaker. but going out? you’re always looking for an excuse to leave.

too many sweaty bodies crammed into some shitty bar, that you’re sure is over the capacity because why is everyone so close to you? you’ve lost most of your friends, wandering off to leave you to fend for yourself. the friends that remain are all swaying, blinking slow and giggling at nothing. your friend always get too drunk.

the single drink you ordered for yourself only loosens you up enough that you’re sure you won’t tell some stranger to watch where they’re going. you decide to go to the bathroom because jesus, if standing here wasn’t already painful enough the pressure building on your bladder is.

when you exit the bathroom, mentally preparing yourself to go back over the drunken gaggle of your friends and people that have gathered with them, you think you might see it. your chance to leave.

you noticed him on the way into the bathroom. a guy sitting with no more than three people, who looks like he wants to leave this bar even more than you do. he almost looks sad, slumped back in a booth, eyes downcast as he swirls the remnants of his drink around in his cup.

he noticed you too, on your way into the bathroom. his bottom lip has been trapped between his teeth since you disappeared past the door, just thinking. when you come back out, you can almost tell he was waiting for you because he looks up from his cup, almost shyly, but like you just saved him.

he’s up on his feet before you can get back to your friends, and he steps in front of you. not a threatening presence, just to get you to stop. you look up at him, lips parting to speak but he cuts you off before you can get out any words.

“do you wanna get out of here?” he asks. his eyes dart over your face, taking you in but also searching for the formation of your answer. you peer around him to the last bit of your friends and when a girl you don’t recognize laughs obnoxiously loud and pulls one of your friends into a messy hug, you nod.

“yeah.. yeah that sounds good.” you say, nodding as your eyes meet his again. he gives you a curt nod, gentle smile pulling at his lips as he takes your hand into his and guides you through the crowd to the exit of the bar. he holds the door open, gesturing for you to walk in front of him “i’m chris, by the way.” he mentions as you walk past.

you’re not a stranger to hookups and one night stands, though you don’t prefer them - they’re always a sure way to leave somewhere you don’t want to be with it seeming like you’re still having fun.

chris’s apartment is quaint, small but just enough space. it looks lived in, which makes your shoulders loosen at the idea that is his is space. that he lounges around here in his free time, and you can tell he actually spends a lot of time here.

he isn’t touchy with you, keeping a comforting hand intertwined with yours as he walked you back to his place. he leads you into his room and plops down onto the bed, pulling his phone out to scroll aimlessly, head hung between his shoulders.

you shift awkwardly, because why the fuck is he on his phone? did he bring you here to watch him doom scroll? you notice a door off his room that’s cracked open, and it looks like a bathroom.

“can i use your bathroom really quick?” you ask him. he lifts his head, just barley and nods “yeah, of course. go ahead.”

you give him a simple nod and slip off into the bathroom with the intent to splash some cold water on your face and maybe fix up your appearance. but you freeze when your eyes fall to the counter. bottle of perfume, a few skin care products that certainly don’t belong to him.

you ditch the cold water and step quietly back out into his bedroom, and he looks up again when the door creaks as it comes to a full open.

“do you have a girlfriend?” you blurt out, not unkind but almost panicked at the prospect you’re in his apartment and whoever owns those products could come home at anytime.

“because i- i’m not a homewrecker i don’t do-,” he cuts you off with a gently raised hand, locking his phone and setting it on his bedside table.

“no,” he starts, huffing a quiet sigh “no. i don’t have a girlfriend,” he affirms “not anymore.”

the end part is almost whispered under his breath, but you caught it. sad and empty. “not anymore?” you repeat softly, a bit of sympathy creeps up your spine.

and suddenly it makes sense. the abrupt approach and almost awkward of asking if you wanted to leave the bar, like he was just ripping off the bandaid. the fact that he just sat on his bed to go on his phone as soon as you got here. he’s never done this before. and he’s doing it for a distraction. or at least trying to.

he nods “we uh- broke up a couple of weeks ago. she hasn’t been by to get the rest of her shit and i just-,” he sighs, not having an excuse as to why he hasn’t at least hidden her things “i just haven’t put it away.” he admits.

only more confirmation that he hasn’t done this before, or wasn’t even planning to. you nod understandingly, it’s not your business why he hasn’t gotten rid of her things and it doesn’t seem appropriate to ask. you do notice now that there seems to be empty patches around his room, likely where the rest of her things used to take up space.

“you don’t do this, do you?” you ask quietly, gesturing between the two of you. he scratches the back of his neck, a sad, sheepish smile pulling at the corners of his mouth “is it that obvious?” he asks.

you laugh softly, shaking your head “just a little bit.” you move closer to him to sit next to him on the bed, looking at him kindly. “but, do you want this?” you can’t help but ask “i won’t be offended at all if you just thought-,”

and suddenly, the chris you thought was nervous, shy even, cuts you off again but it’s with his lips smashing roughly against yours. his hand comes to cup your jaw, brushing your cheek with his thumb before you can feel him realize it’s too intimate of a gesture. probably a reflex. his hand slides back into your hair, lacing through the roots and tugging you closer to him.

you let him pull you onto his lap, straddling his waist as your hands come to wrap around his shoulders, whining softly as his tongue slips past your lips to swirl around the inside of your mouth. his fingers find the hem of your skirt, yanking it up so that it rests around your waist, big hands coming to palm the plush flesh of your ass as he rocks you against his hardening cock under his jeans.

you pull away from his mouth to press soft kisses along his jawline, occasionally nipping gently at his skin as you trail your lips down his neck. he tilts his head back fully, breathing catching in his throat as you take advantage of the new space.

you lick a flat stripe up the column of his throat before pulling back, sliding off his lap to settle onto your knees in front of him. the wood of his floor is a contrast to your already heated skin, and you look up at him while reaching for his belt.

“fuck,” he pants quietly, reaching for his belt himself when you stop him, moving his hands away “let me,” you say quietly. he swallows thickly, instead leaning back on his hands as he looks down at you while you discard his belt.

the metal clangs as you set it next to you on the floor, and you make quick work of the zipper to tug his jeans and boxers down his thighs, letting them pool at his ankle. his cock springs from his boxers and rests heavily against his still clothed stomach, already dripping precum.

you try not to focus how he’s the perfect size, how he’ll feel deep inside of you if it gets to that point. your hand grasps at his heavy length, pumping him a few times as he squirms.

you watch him carefully for a moment, to see if they’re squirms of discomfort or anticipation, and when his head tips back when your thumb brushes over his tip and a soft whine slips from his throat, you know it’s anticipation.

you lean forward, gathering spit into the front of your mouth before letting it drip past your lips and onto his aching tip. you smear it against your lips, still watching him carefully and when he looks down at you finally, you wrap your lips around him and start bobbing your head down his length.

“oh my-,” he gasps lowly, one hand shooting into your hair to grip the roots tightly again. you hum softly around him, sending vibrations through his cock. you work what length you can’t fit into your mouth with your hand.

your free hand comes to his bare thigh, just resting there for presence, and you almost coo when he uses both of his hands to brush your already messy hair out of your face into a makeshift ponytail, gripping it with his fist.

his hips buck slightly off the mattress, short, shallow thrusts into your wet mouth and you whine softly, feeling drool start to dribble out of the corners of your mouth. looking up at him, his brows are pinched together, jaw slightly slack as he watches his cock slip past your shiny lips.

you feel him twitch against your tongue, his breaths growing heavier and you’re ready for the warning that he’s about to cum, when he tugs you by your hair off of him.

“wanna fuck you,” he pants, dragging you up to his lips again “need to fuck you.” and his lips are on yours again, messy and hungry.

you go to slip back into his lap, but his hands stop you once you’re standing again. he yanks your skirt down your legs, panties going with them too and you squeak softly as he pushes you to lay flat on your tummy against his bed.

your cheek presses against his sheets, looking slightly over your shoulder at him. your folded over the side of his bed, upper body flat as you’re bent at the hips, legs hanging off the side of the bed. he looms over your back, and you watch him reach for the neckline of his shirt to tug it over his head and discard it to the floor.

he settles over your back, cock nudging between your soaked folds as he leans over to press a wet kiss to your exposed shoulder. he braces on hand by your side, the other coming between your legs to run over your slit.

he hums lowly against your ear as you gasp softly, watching your head tilt back and eyes flutter shut “so fuckin’ wet.” he mutters.

he rubs the tip of his cock between your puffy folds, your breath hitching every time it catches on your entrance but never slips in. your hands grip the sheets beside your head as you wait, and you cry out when he sinks into you slowly, his hips pressed tightly against your ass.

“you feel so good,” he whispers against your neck, placing a light bite there when your head tilts heavily to the side. he notices how you’re already gripping the sheets tightly, and he tuts under his breath.

you whine when you feel the warmth of his body over yours disappear, but gasp sharply when his hands rip yours from where they’re clutched in the sheets, tugging them and crossing them behind your back. he uses the grip he has on your arms to start thrusting into you, groaning softly as his hips plap against your ass.

he feels just as good as you thought he would, if not better. reaching the perfect place inside of you with every stroke. you moan airily when he hits a deep thrust, pulling out slowly until just his tip is nestled inside, before slamming back into you.

he notices your eyes fluttering against the sheets, one hand leaving your arms crossed behind your back to deliver a sharp spank to your ass. not hard, just enough to get your attention and your eyes snap back open, lifting your head to look at him over your shoulder.

“good girl,” he coos softly, arm returning to intertwine your fingers with his behind your back, leaning back over you to capture your lips in a messy kiss.

you can tell he just got out of a relationship, because his soft, intimate touches still make their way through the cracks, most of them seeing like habits. you find yourself jealous of a girl you’ve never even met before, knowing she was getting this every night.

he pulls away from your lips, a string of saliva still connecting you too before it breaks and slips down your chin. “gonna let me cum in this perfect pussy?” he asks lowly, eyes unwavering on your lidded ones.

you nod dumbly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as he calls your pussy perfect. you know it’s just dirty talk but it feels like he means it. he smirks slowly as he nudges your nose with his, his thrusts picking up a pace that tells you he’s close.

the knot in your tummy builds, and your moans grow airier and higher pitched and he can feel you tightening around him.

“fuck-,” he almost hiccups, “squeezin’ me in so tight.” he breathes, his hand coming to wrap loosely around your throat “cum for me pretty girl, m’right there.”

and that’s just what you do. your body tenses as flashes of warmth surge through your limbs, eyes rolling back into your head as you feel him spill into you almost immediately after. his thrusts slow to a stop, not wanting to overstimulate either of you.

he lets go of your arms that were bound behind your back, and they fall limply to your sides. he presses a few messy kisses against your shoulder before pulling out of you with a quiet hiss. you turn around to look up at him but he’s already gone, reappearing seconds later with a damp washcloth.

he gently wipes the insides of your thighs, shushing you quietly whenever you whine from being sensitive. he tosses the washcloth into his hamper and flops heavily onto the bed next to you, a kind smile pulling at his lips as he takes in your fucked out expression.

“you alright?” he asks, lifting his hand to brush a damp piece of hair off your forehead. he sounds so genuine.

you nod, forcing yourself up. he brows pinch together as you glance around on the floor for your skirt and panties, but it’s gone as soon as it’s there.

he props himself up on his elbows, chewing the inside of his cheek. “will you spend the night?” he blurts. blush creeps onto his cheek as your eyes meet his, the same sheepish expression from before.

“you want me to stay?” you ask, a bit incredulous. he shifts on the bed, and you can tell he’s regretful from asking. he swallows thickly, nodding. “i mean- you don’t have to at all if you’re not comfortable or anything.” he all but sputters.

“i just don’t wanna sleep alone.” he admits quietly. then you remember. the girlfriend. broken up a couple of weeks ago. he must be going through hell sleeping alone if he’s asking you to stay.

you shift, nodding softly. “yeah, i’ll stay.” you murmur sympathetically, slipping back into the bed. he tugs the comforter over you both, flicking out his bedside table lamp. his arm drapes heavily around your waist, tugging you back against his chest. his thumb rubs soothing circles over your stomach, and you know this is how him and his ex girlfriend fell asleep every night.

you wonder if she’ll miss this touch. you don’t even know if he’s a bad person. fuck, he could’ve been the worst boyfriend and she dodged a bullet.

even so, you don’t know how anyone could ever get a taste of what he just gave you and leave.

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authors note: someone tell this guy to put on slut era interlude and thug it out smh.

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mrssturnioloo · 1 day ago

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~⠀✿ ͙۪ 𝑷𝑰𝑵𝑲 𝑴𝑨𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑶𝑵

- a short fluff blurb where your boyfriend chris gets you a pink macaron jellycat, and leaves a sweet little note on your pillow :)

warnings!: super sweet fluff gonna blow ya face off !!

You’re strewn out lazy on the couch, in your pink glossier hoodie and little white brandy shorts, carrying out your default evening ritual - (scrolling on TikTok for hours) until you peep a video of the new pink macaron jellycat, earning a gasp from you.

“What?” Chris says jolting up to see your phone. “There’s a pink macaron jellycat!” You tell him excitedly. “Oh cool.” He says looking at the video, playing it off like he doesn’t care.

You assume he’s disregarded the information by now as he turns back to his game, but he’s actually busy writing into his notes app ‘Buy her the pink macaron’.

You repost the video and scroll, forgetting about the macaron. And for all you know- Chris probably has too.

Until days later … As you return home from work, strolling into yours and Chris’ room, you see a Pink macaron jellycat placed on your pillow, tucked into the blanket like it’s lived here forever, you run over to it.

Next to it is a handwritten note from Chris, which reads, (in messy handwriting, but you can tell he tried to make it his neatest)

To Y/n, I got you the jellycat you wanted. I hope you like it I named it Pinky. I had to go to like twenty stores for it but it was worth it. I Love you.

A smile spreads across your face as you read his adorable note and pick up Pinky, holding her to your heart. You’ll always love this little pink macaron.

a/n: my pinned post has my taglist linked where you can ask to be added anytime and get tagged every time I post! hope u enjoyed <3

taglist babiesss!!: @matthewsroses @starrii-sturns @pvssychicken @ivysturnss @mattsbitchh @sturniolo-fann @matts-myloverboy @emely9274 @sophand4n4 @uncannyguava @chrissweetheart @slut4chris888 @courta13 @izzylovesmatt @chriscantwhisper @mattsplaything @angel-sturn1 @sturniolo-szn2 @aaliyah-sturns @chrispycremedonut @matts-babytomatoes @lezleeferguson-120

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mrssturnioloo · 1 day ago

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more matt and chris sturniolo p!links!

all links are twitter affiliated. you must be logged in to view them.

matt sturniolo

teasing matt and making him cum with your tits

dry humping matt

giving matt head after a car video

riding matt’s thigh

sub!matt finally getting to fuck you after a week apart

cowboy!matt making you grind against his jeans

using matt’s fuzzy handcuffs

chris sturniolo

chris ruining your tights and his shorts after the gym

chris using your body for more than pleasure

chris fingering you late at night

early morning sex with chris

older bf!chris fucking you after dinner

mean!chris punishing bratty!reader

rough sex with chris after shopping all day

a/n: i had a few more saved too but they all unfortunately got deleted :( will look for more soon!

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mrssturnioloo · 1 day ago

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yummyy

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mrssturnioloo · 2 days ago

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bro look at me like that and its wraps #sub!matt

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mrssturnioloo · 2 days ago

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꒰ #:: 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𓂃 m.s.

Your birthday had always been one of those days that stung more than it should. Growing up, it never quite felt like yours—it was just another date, rarely celebrated the way you dreamed as a kid. So when your twenty-first rolled around, you expected the same: maybe dinner out, maybe just Matt pulling you close on the couch and making sure you felt loved in his quiet way.

But instead—this year was different.

It started with Madison Beer texting you, “Come by my place tonight. Casual, promise.” Nothing out of the ordinary, considering she was practically family to the Sturniolos at this point. You didn’t suspect a thing.

Matt drove, his hand squeezing yours the whole ride, a little too calm. You didn’t know he’d been holding onto this secret for weeks—that Madison had been the mastermind of your party idea, telling Matt, “She deserves her Matilda moment. Let’s make it unforgettable.”

When you walked into Madison’s house, the first thing you noticed was the faint glow of fairy lights strung up across the living room. Then, the chorus of voices:

“SURPRISE!”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Everyone was there—Nick and Chris grinning like idiots at your shocked face, Madison beaming from the corner, Madi waving, Tara Yummy shouting, “Happy birthday, babe!” And beyond them, Sam and Colby, their arms wrapped around Malia and Sofia, holding up little party horns.

You blinked hard, already feeling tears prick your eyes.

Matt leaned down and kissed the side of your head, whispering, “Told you this birthday would be different.”

The night was perfect in all the small ways that mattered. Someone (you suspected Tara) had gotten you a sparkly little birthday headband that sat a bit crooked on your hair, but you refused to take it off. Everyone insisted you wear it for every photo, every laugh.

Gifts came in waves—Sam and Colby got you a vintage camera they said you “had to use for the night.” Madison gave you a bracelet you had been talking about for months that sparkled under the string lights. Madi handed over a scrapbook she’d made with pictures of you and all your friends and things you guys have done together.

But what made your chest ache the most wasn’t the gifts—it was the care. The way everyone looked at you like you mattered. Like this day was meant for you.

The cake came last.

Madison and Madi brought it out together, candles flickering, the smell of your favorite flavor filling the room. You swore you weren’t going to cry, but the second everyone started singing Happy Birthday—off-key and too loud—you felt it.

Tears welled, and you tried to blink them away, but Matt noticed instantly. He always did. His hand squeezed your waist, grounding you as the song ended in cheers and claps.

“Make a wish, baby,” he murmured.

You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of the moment sink in, then blew out the candles to the sound of cheers.

When the cake was cut, Madison shoved a plate into Matt’s hands. “You feed her the first bite, duh.”

You laughed through your tears as Matt held up the fork, smirking.

“Open up, birthday girl,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes but leaned forward, letting him feed you the first bite. The sweetness hit your tongue, but it was nothing compared to the way Matt was looking at you—like you were the only person in the room.

Everyone clapped and whistled, and you couldn’t stop laughing through the tears.

Later, when the party calmed and people sat in clusters talking and laughing, you curled up on the couch next to Matt. He tugged you into his lap without hesitation, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“You did all this for me,” you whispered.

He shook his head. “We did all this for you. You deserve to feel loved, especially today.”

Your eyes watered again, but this time you didn’t hide it. For the first time in your life, your birthday wasn’t something you wanted to forget. It was the night you finally had your Matilda moment—the night you were surrounded by people who made you feel like the main character, like you belonged.

And sitting in Matt’s arms, laughter echoing around you, you knew: you’d never spend another birthday feeling unseen again.

⟢ 𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⤸

ꪆৎ ᯓ @sturnsobsessed21 @ggraycelynn @viviansturns @babyt0matoes @chrisbendmeovernow @ivysturnss @sabheartsturn @luzstarkey @sturnsburna @weirdosloveme @lyingonchris @clairo4life @matts-babytomatoes @leahfaith @courta13 @nessaisabelartemas333 @bugs-tags @edu4rd0ss @oopsiedaisydeer @xsturnkay @ellsxxoxo @matthewsroses @mattspillowprincess @drewinlace @sturnsfluff @sophs-1103 @nickstvrnbias @rory-keaners-fangs @secretaccountx5 @bittenbymatt @mattslipfast @angel-sturn1 @sturnsxap @heartss4chris @elianamattlvr @laila-sturniolo0 @idkwhatthisis2009 @sturnsxbbyeilish @sturniolo-szn2 @stevielovesmatt @sturnsfluff @sturns-mermaid @httpssturns @ilovesamgoldencoch @emely9274

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mrssturnioloo · 2 days ago

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𝘿𝙄𝙑𝙄𝙉𝙀

⤷ 𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙙!𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩 𝙭 𝙣𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

⤷ 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨

⤷ 𝙘𝙬: 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩(𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙭, 𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝙨𝙚𝙭, 𝙪𝙣𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙭), 𝙙𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙮 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠, 𝙥𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙨𝙚/𝙙𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

Your messages aren’t going through now. He must be on the plane. Your stomach churns with excitement and hope. Matt’s coming to Paris. For you. At least, that’s what you want to believe. What else could it be? He didn’t answer your thirty-plus phone calls last night.

Is he coming to end this? Whatever this was.

Or did something happen to Leila?

What could make him come all the way to Paris?

Maybe your dad embarrassed you, called Matt, told him how depressed you’ve been.

Your mind reels.

You want to let it slip, enter a space where anything could be possible. A space where Matt wants you. A space where things don’t have to be messy. A space where you don’t end up like your mother.

Your stomach bubbles with possibilities. You can’t drink your coffee now.

You should get ready now. Look pretty. It’s been thirty days since you’ve seen him.

Thirty days.

Does he have stubble now?

Does he still run his tongue along his teeth when he’s anxious?

Quiet.

You have to quiet the thoughts.

Empty bottles of wine are shoved into the recycling. Dirty dishes scrubbed until your fingers are pruned and raw. Like you can erase thirty days in thirty minutes.

His knock isn’t steady this time.

You didn’t change out of the dress from the night before.

It’s not the Matt you know–it’s the shell of him, raw and restless, eyes rimmed with red and wild.

“Who the fuck was that?” he rasps, shoving past you into the apartment. He doesn’t even wait for an answer. He moves through each room with precision, opening doors, scanning corners.

Like he’s looking for something. Someone.

And you can only trail after him in disbelief, heart in your throat.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Matt?” You grab his arms, and he pauses.

His eyes meet yours. Lip in a tight line.

“What are you looking for?”

“Don’t play stupid with me.” His voice shakes like he’s holding something back.

He’s always holding something back.

His hand trembles as he yanks his phone from his back pocket. The screen lights up, three percent battery left, and there it is: the paparazzi shot from last night—the date your father forced you to go on. Blurry, pixelated. You’re not even sure how he could tell it was you.

“That’s why you didn’t answer,” you whisper. It’s not a question.

Matt’s mouth twists. “Looked like you were busy.”

“Busy?” Your voice cracks. “Busy? I called you thirty fucking times.”

“Don’t spin this on me.”

“Spin what, Matt? Like, what are you even talking about?”

Silence. His chest rises, falls. His eyes burn into you.

“Why are you even here?” You laugh, sharp and ugly. “You’re telling me you flew all the way to fucking Paris because you saw a blurry paparazzi photo?”

“You shouldn’t be out with random men,” he bites, low.

You bark out another laugh. “Oh, that’s rich. I think you lost the privilege of telling me what to do.”

His jaw works. “Y-you never take care of yourself. You just—you fucking—” He cuts off, voice breaking. “Who was that?”

“Why?”

“Tell me.”

“No,” you step closer, eyes narrowing. “Actually, I’d love for you to tell me why you want to know. You always do this shit—you’re so confusing. You don’t come to Paris because you can’t ‘pick up your life,’ right? But then you fly thousands of miles to tell me not to fuck random men? For my safety? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

His voice drops, wrecked. “It’s not— it wasn’t about your safety.”

You blink. “What?”

“It’s not about your safety,” he says again, softer this time, like the words scrape his throat raw.

Your pulse pounds. “Then fucking please, for once in your life, say what you mean, Matt.”

His face mimics the same one you saw in that dark Pennsylvania childhood bedroom. The same lips that mumbled, half asleep, you left her, start to move.

They part, trembling.

“I love you.”

No one moves.

You want to live here. In this impossible moment. Before he takes it back.

You let your brain slip into it—love. He loves you. Someone loves you.

“Say that again.”

His brows furrow. “Huh?”

“Say it again, Matt.”

He scoffs, shaky. “Okay, well… you didn’t say it back.”

Your throat burns. “God, can you just listen for once?”

His eyes close, jaw trembling. When they open again, it rips out of him:

“I love you.”

“You love me?” Your voice is small, almost taunting.

His jaw locks. His voice is a rasp, low and wrecked. “I’m going to fuck you up.”

And then he’s on you.

His lips on yours. It’s teeth, it’s clumsy, breath harsh. His hands cage your face like if he lets go, you’ll vanish. You stumble back into your bedroom door, the wood rattling as his body crushes against yours.

It’s not soft. It’s brutal. It’s charged. It’s years of wanting, of denying, of needing.

“You are so fucking unbelievable.” He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes wild. “Have me breaking every single rule I’ve made for myself.” His palms slide to your ribs, squeezing until you’re gasping, dizzy.

“And now you can’t even tell me you love me back, huh?” His breath sears your skin as he drags his mouth down to your ear. “You love me?”

His hand knots in your hair, tugging your head to the side, exposing your throat. “This okay?”

You can only nod, frantic.

“Say it,” he grumbles. “Tell me you love me. Tell me I didn’t make all of this up. That I didn’t make a mistake coming here. Tell me—please—” His voice breaks against your ear. “Tell me.”

“I love you.” It’s a whisper. A weight off your chest. It’s real. It’s been painted on your tongue for months, maybe years.

He swallows thickly—you can hear it, can almost feel it in your own throat.

You want to touch. To feel. To have the real Matt in your hands—unguarded, messy, ready for you. Finally ready for you. Your palms slide down his chest, desperate for more, while his grip stays tangled in your hair, holding you in place. His eyes are heavy, dark, watching you.

“Still in this stupid fucking dress from the picture.” He smirks, rolling his eyes.

“Hey.” You frown, breathless. “Someone didn’t answer their phone, so I so sadly fell asleep in it.”

That pulls a laugh out of him. A real one. His eyes crease, his shoulders shaking, and for the first time in your life, you don’t feel like you’re fighting the past. You’re here. You’re present.

Matt’s fingers are careful. Trailing up your thighs, pushing your dress higher, sucking in a harsh breath when the lace of your pink panties are revealed.

“This isn’t a mistake.” His voice is gravel, but it’s asking. It’s convincing himself. His eyes flicker up to yours.

“I wanted this for so long, you know.” His thumb hooks under the edge of the lace, knuckle brushing your skin. “Even when you wanted to act like a fucking brat, I wanted this. It wasn’t only ever about lust, either.” His throat works. “I wanted all of you. I wanted to save you. I always want to save everyone, but—fuck—I think you saved me.”

Your chest tightens. The words burn through you, but so does the panic. You grab his wrist. “Wait.”

His brows knit, instant concern. “What? Did I hurt you?”

“No.” You shake your head, cheeks burning. “I’m… I’m on my period.”

For a second, silence. He stills completely, searching your face.

And then he exhales through his nose, like it’s nothing. His lips twitch with something close to a smile. “You think I care about that?” His thumb strokes your thigh, steady, grounding. “We’ve always been messy.” His voice dips lower. “I don’t give a fuck. I still want you. All of you.”

“It’s… you’re not, like, grossed out?” you whisper.

Matt raises his eyebrows. “I don’t know who you’ve been fucking, but a little blood isn’t a big deal.” His lip curls. “That fucking loser you were with last night might have minded, but I don’t.”

You roll your eyes. “He was actually very nice.”

“Shut up,” Matt grunts, shoving your panties to the side. His gaze drops lower, and his breath stutters. “Shit.” His voice breaks on a whisper. “So pretty.”

Two fingers slide through your slick folds, slow, deliberate, and your mouth drops open with a gasp.

He leans in closer, breath hot against your cheek as his thumb circles your clit. “You know, I’ve always wondered…” His voice is rough, low. “What kind of noises you make. How you fuck. If someone fucking you would finally get you to listen, hm?”

Your hips jerk into his hand, helpless, and he swallows the sound you make with a kiss—slow, sloppy, biting at your bottom lip like he’s starving. You pull back and try to catch your breath.

“I saved you?” You can hardly form the words. His fingers are relentless, thrusting into you.

“Mhm.” He kisses your cheek, lips soft against your tears. “You showed me I can love again. That I wasn’t broken. That I can let people in.” His mouth curves, the ghost of a smirk. “Really insufferable people.”

You bite down on your lip, staring into his eyes as his hand works between your thighs. It’s so dirty, so messy. But it’s intimate in a way that makes your chest ache. It’s like he read your mind.

“You’re a good girl,” he coos, voice low and sure. “You deserve love. You’re not the problem. You’re a good girl.”

Your breath shatters. Tears spill hot down your cheeks as his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot with every flick. It’s overwhelming — your pussy fluttering around him as he tells you the one thing you’ve never believed:

That you’re good.

That you’re finally good.

“I wanna make you feel good, too.” Your voice trembles, hot tears stuck in your throat.

“You’re gonna cum first.” His tone leaves no other option. “I haven’t had any in a while, and I can tell by the way your pussy is squeezing around my fingers I’m not gonna last. You gonna be good, yeah? Cum for me?”

You nod your head, your chest heaving.

“Open.” Your mouth opens as he lets go of your hair, shoving his fingers in your mouth. “Suck.”

Your tongue swirls around his fingers, his silver ring metallic and cold on your tongue.

“Juust like that,” He nods as he watches you suck on his fingers. “Fuck–” Matt looks behind him, his head nodding towards your bed. “Bed. Now.”

You waste no time walking on shaky legs to your bed, lying down on your back. Matt pulls your underwear down, tossing it aside, and your heart pumps, waiting to see him completely vulnerable. But he doesn’t reach for his belt; he pulls you to the edge of the bed.

“Matt, you can’t—I’m on my period.” Your voice cracks, half shame, half warning. You try to squeeze your legs shut, but his palms press them wide, holding you down.

His eyes flash as he hovers over you. “And I told you I don’t give a fuck.”

“That’s cra—”

“Crazy?” He cuts you off with a sharp laugh, leaning down, his breath hot against your skin. “Not crazy. Obsessed, maybe. You think I’ve waited all this time just to stop now?”

His tongue drags through your folds, deliberate, slow, and you gasp so loud your hand flies to your mouth.

You feel Matt take a deep breath before sucking hard on your clit. His groan vibrates through you. “I’m gonna fucking cum just from this. Jesus Christ, baby.”

Baby.

His fingers slide inside, curling, his nose buried in your messy folds. Embarrassment doesn’t even touch you — not when he wants you like this. Messy. Open. Vulnerable.

Your hips rut against his face. You’re soaked. He’s soaked, devouring you like he’s been starved. Obscene sounds fill the room as he laps at you, not letting a single drop go to waste.

“Messy girl,” he mumbles into you. “Gonna cum on my tongue?” His fingers thrust harder, curling up, and you cry out, your legs shaking. “Give it to me, baby. I need it. Want all of it.”

You break.

You’ve cum before — with your own hand in the dark, a porn film muffled on your phone, with some random sweaty man who never even looked you in the eye. But this—this is nothing like that. This is white fire burning in your chest, noises you don’t even recognize ripping from your throat.

Not by someone who wants you.

Not by someone who uses you.

But by someone who loves you.

All of you.

Matt watches you in awe as you come down from your high. Silent, reverent. He sinks to his knees, unbuckling his belt with shaky fingers, pushing his pants down. His cock is heavy and straining in his boxers, the dark fabric soaked at the tip. He palms himself once, groaning low in his chest, waiting for you to come back down to earth.

“Please.” Your voice is broken, wrecked. Your fingers trace along the waistband of his boxers before dipping inside, pulling him free. His cock stands tall, flushed pink, wet at the tip. You give it one slow stroke and his hips jerk, a sharp gasp ripping out of him.

You don’t get another chance—he’s already pushing you back onto the bed, lips crashing to yours. You taste yourself on his tongue, metallic-sweet, as he licks into your mouth. His tip drags over your clit, slick and messy, and he groans, rutting against you.

“Fuck,” he gasps, kissing the corners of your mouth like he can’t get enough. He lets his cock slide against your clit again, again, smearing precum across you. Then he pulls back just enough to spit into your mouth, watching you swallow before kissing you deep.

You’re clawing at his t-shirt, a moaning mess beneath him, while he keeps teasing your entrance with the thick head of his cock, just barely slipping inside before pulling out.

He smirks down at you, hips grinding slow and cruel. “Yeah? You like when I fuck you just a little bit?” His voice is gravel, taunting. “Dirty girl.”

You tilt your hips up, desperate, and feel his thick cock slide deeper into you. You revel in it — the burn, the stretch, the whimper that vibrates out of his throat as your pussy clamps around him. Tight. Hot. Perfect.

When he finally bottoms out, you squirm, gasping as his pulsing cock fills you to the hilt. Your legs shake, and his forehead drops to yours, breath ragged.

“You can take it,” he grunts, fucking into your sloppy cunt slow and steady, making sure you feel every vein, every twitch, every throb. “I know you can.”

His hand yanks at your dress, pulling one strap down until your tit spills free, your nipple instantly hard. He groans, latching onto it — sucking, nipping, his teeth grazing just enough to make you cry out.

His hips get more urgent, faster, the wet slap of skin against skin echoing like sin through the Paris night. You’re babbling, moaning, incoherent as he switches from your breast to your mouth, swallowing every sound you make. Your pussy squelches around him, obscene, messy.

“She’s fucking talking to me, huh?” he grunts into your mouth, chest vibrating as he fucks you deeper. “My messy girl.”

“Tell me you love me. Again,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “Tell me.”

“I love you, baby. I love you.” His gasp shudders through your chest as he fucks you deeper, losing himself. “Gonna fucking cum.”

“In me.” The words tear out of you, desperate, intoxicating.

He falters, hips stuttering.

“It’s okay,” you promise, clutching him tighter.

His eyes roll back, a strangled moan ripping from his throat as he spills into you, hot and thick. His release mixes with yours, messy and unrestrained — your cycle, your ache, your need — all of it pooling together, staining the sheets, leaving its mark.

His breath is soft in bed next to you. Tangled, sweaty limbs molded together. You curl into him, wanting to take refuge in his rib cage. Dry your clothes on his bones and make a bed right next to his pumping heart.

The bottle of wine is opened in the stumbling of your steps. He sloshes half of it onto the counter trying to pour, cursing under his breath while you giggle. Two glasses of Château Angélus, poured to the brim. Red-stained mouths and soft kisses, some staining your teeth.

“I’ve never seen you tipsy,” you giggle as Matt traces clumsy love letters onto your arm.

“I couldn’t drink on the job.” His face is pink, movements loose, hands warm. He grins, leaning too heavily into your shoulder. “Kiss?” he whispers.

Your lips meet his again. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve tasted him tonight. He keeps going back for more like he’s starving.

“You’re really touchy,” you mumble when he kisses your fingers.

“You didn’t expect that?” He moves your hair aside, his mouth finding your neck.

You shake your head, and he laughs — too loud, covering his mouth like he’s embarrassed, then immediately pressing another sloppy kiss to your cheek.

“I guess I didn’t either,” he admits, tugging at the back of your neck, fingers brushing the tattoo he can’t quite see. “This tattoo…” he mumbles.

“You bring it up a lot.”

“Because it’s true.” His lips graze your shoulder, eyes glassy.

“Hm?”

“Divine feminine, right?” He licks his lips. “It’s true. It’s what you are.”

Your cheeks burn, though you blame the wine. That and the soreness between your thighs.

It’s quiet after that, comfortable. The only sound is the clink of your glasses and the tiny sips of bitter wine burning both your throats.

Matt tips his head back against the bed, eyes half-lidded, smiling like a kid. “You know that I jerked off after we slept in bed together in Pennsylvania,” he slurs slightly. “Like, we didn’t even do anything we just slept. That’s why I acted sooo weird in the morning.”

Your jaw drops, a laugh bubbling out of your throat before you can stop it. “Matt!”

His face crumples a second later, groaning as he hides against your neck. “Forget I said that. Wine’s talking.”

“It can be like this forever, you know?”

Matt’s hand stills on your waist. His breath hitches, just barely, but you feel it.

His eyes drift to the window, to the stretch of Paris beyond it — temporary, fragile. He thinks of his mom. How she would be proud of him putting himself for once.

And still there’s a gnawing ache in his chest whispering that he’s being selfish.

You grab his face, pulling him back to you. “Don’t think about it,” you whisper. “Just stay.”

He doesn’t answer with words. He kisses you instead, slow and deep, like he can pour his promises into your mouth.

When you finally pull back, you search his eyes. “Promise me.”

There’s a beat. A pause heavy enough to crush.

“…Promise.”

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. Another text from your dad: "You need to clean up your image. That date was supposed to help."

You roll your eyes so hard it hurts.

"Wait," Matt clears his throat. "Your dad set that up?"

"Yes, dumbass."

[a/n: now everyone can stop threatening my life! they did it y'all!! also this isn't the end, i think one more part and then the series will be over!]

taglist: @y3sterdaysproblem @babyt0matoes @grace-sturnz @courta13 @sturnslutz @mattsdivaa @oopsiedaisydeer @iluvchr1s @pip4444chris @izzylovesmatt @sturniolofan-20 @hannahsturns @le4hsblog @silverspringsstare @chrattn1fan @xoxbunni @chrissturniolodailysluts @namelesssav @sorrybirds @meg-sturniolo @sturnwritess @sexyblkmf @mattsstarlet @sturniszn @mattsturnlover1 @hamzahsn1gf @matthewsdarlinggirl @pix3lsturniolo @idkwhatimdoinghereeeeeee @wtfiamad1no @sturniolosluttt @they-luvaaliyah4 @ivysturnss @mattsdiamonds @everythingaboutbags @sippindietpepsii @lynniethe4thtriplet @mattsturnsangel @spaghettislut1 @mamaagirlbehindu123 @megsturn @sturniolosymphony @chriss-slutt @eeyore-of-100-acre-wood @heartss4chris @chrattgetsmewetter @luvuhree @zokhlyxo @neverstopthekashh @idkwhatthisis2009

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mrssturnioloo · 2 days ago

Text

⌞shared dessert ⋆˙⟡ christopher & matthew sturniolo⌝⸝⸝

warnings: threesome, oral (m & f receiving), double penetration, creampie, cum swallowing, overstimulation, fingering, praise kink, dom!matt & dom!chris x sub!reader, jealousy, possessiveness, unprotected sex, light alcohol consumption, no incest or anything sexual between matt and chris!!! please let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 1.6k

my birthday writing marathon

the cake is still warm when chris walks in with it, carefully balanced on a wide ceramic plate, edges of the frosting threatening to melt under the late summer heat. matt trails behind him, tall and grinning, two sweating glasses of champagne in hand, fingers curved around the delicate stems.

"happy birthday," chris says, setting the plate down on your kitchen counter. his voice is soft and scratchy from a long day of talking, laughing, teasing. his eyes flick up to you like he’s checking for a reaction, always watching.

you smile, warm with wine and the late hour. "you guys didn’t have to-"

"yeah, yeah," matt interrupts, handing you a glass. "shut up and make a wish."

you blink at the single candle flickering crookedly on top of the mess of chocolate and buttercream. you take a second to think, letting your gaze drift between them. chris, in his worn white tee and beanie pushed halfway off his curls. matt, loose black hoodie, sleeves shoved to his elbows, cheeks pink from the heat of your apartment and maybe the champagne already.

you lean in. make your wish. blow out the candle.

"what’d you wish for?" matt asks immediately, his grin crooked.

"not telling."

"we’ll figure it out," chris says. there’s something low in his voice. not playful. not completely.

you open your mouth to respond, but chris steps closer, crowding you a little where you lean against the counter, your back warm from the cabinets. his fingers brush your hip, barely there, but enough to make you look up.

"can i guess?" he murmurs, just for you.

your lips part. something flutters in your stomach. "go ahead."

matt’s still behind you, setting the glasses down. "you didn’t wish for the cake, right?"

you huff a laugh, but before you can answer, chris leans in and kisses you.

no warning. no hesitation. just the slow, soft press of his mouth to yours, like he’s testing something he already knows you’ll let him have.

and you do.

your breath catches.

your hand lifts to curl into the front of his shirt, anchoring yourself.

matt’s voice comes again, closer now, voice a little rougher. "so it wasn’t the cake."

chris pulls back, licking his lips. his eyes flicker down to your mouth, then to your chest, then lower. "nah. think we’re getting warmer, though."

you’re silent. not because you don’t want this, but because you’re stunned by how quickly the air in the room has changed. thick with heat, tension, promise.

matt steps behind you, hips brushing your ass as he presses up close, mouth brushing your ear. "you want us to stop, you tell us now."

you don’t say anything. you can’t. your breath stutters out and you shake your head, a tiny motion.

"good," he says, teeth grazing the shell of your ear.

you’re lifted before you even realize it’s happening, hoisted up onto the counter like you weigh nothing. your thighs spread instinctively, skirt riding up, and the cool counter shocks your skin. chris settles between your legs, hands firm on your thighs. matt’s behind you again, mouth on your neck now, his hands bracing you steady.

"so this is dessert," chris murmurs, kissing down the inside of your thigh. "figured."

matt laughs against your skin. "makes sense. i wouldn’t wanna share cake either."

chris’s mouth is soft, warm, trailing up until he’s pressing kisses just shy of your underwear. your hips jerk. he hums, fingers sliding the fabric aside, baring you fully to the warm, open air of the kitchen and the sharper heat of his breath.

he looks up at you, waiting for a nod. you give it, barely managing the breath to move.

then his mouth is on you.

you gasp, loud and sharp, one hand flying to his curls, the other bracing behind you against matt’s chest. he groans into you like he’s been starving, tongue licking a slow, deep stripe through your center before sealing his mouth around your clit and sucking.

matt growls low behind you. "fuck, she’s sweet."

his hand slides to your chin, turning your face toward him. "open."

you do, just as he leans in and kisses you. rougher than chris, deeper, tasting like champagne and the kind of hunger that’s been waiting way too long.

his free hand slips under your shirt, dragging up over your ribs, palming your breast. you moan into his mouth, the noise muffled, body sandwiched between the two of them like something they’re taking apart piece by piece.

"taste her," chris mumbles between your thighs, voice ragged. "fuckin’ addictive."

"already am," matt says, and he kisses you harder, fingers pinching your nipple just enough to make you gasp.

you’re shaking. hips grinding into chris’s mouth, mouth parting for matt’s tongue, legs wrapped around shoulders and arms, every inch of you occupied, filled, taken.

they don’t speak much. just the occasional groaned curse, the low praise spilling between breaths.

"so pretty like this," chris says, licking into you deeper, thumb circling your clit as his tongue fucks you slow. "all spread out for us."

"gonna ruin her," matt growls, kissing down your jaw. "no one else is gonna be able to touch her after this."

"that your wish?" chris asks, glancing up briefly. his lips are glossy, chin wet with you. "to be ours tonight?"

you nod, dizzy, helpless. "yes, fuck- please."

chris groans and doubles down, sucking so hard your legs shake.

matt slips a hand down your front, just as chris eases off, letting matt take over for a second. his fingers stroke you expertly, two sliding inside, thumb circling outside.

"you close?"

you nod again, nearly delirious.

"good," he says. "let us taste it."

and they do, matt curling his fingers just right while chris’s mouth returns, soft and relentless, until your vision whites out and you’re clenching tight around them, crying out as your orgasm hits like a fucking freight train.

they don’t stop. not right away. they work you through it, easing only when you start to twitch, breath heaving, sweat prickling your skin.

but they’re not done.

matt pulls you back against him, your legs still spread, panties now somewhere on the floor. chris stands in front of you, kissing you again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. your legs tremble around his hips.

"one more," matt murmurs behind you, his hands sliding down your back. "just one more, baby."

"how?" you ask, dazed, breath catching.

he answers by unzipping his jeans and guiding your hand to him. he’s hard, thick, already leaking. you wrap your fingers around him automatically, head spinning.

chris presses in close from behind, lips dragging over your shoulder, voice low. "let me in."

you nod, barely thinking, just needing, and he lines himself up, cock thick and pulsing as he slowly pushes inside you from behind. he groans deep in your ear when he bottoms out, hips flush against your ass, your body clenching tight around him.

you cry out, head dropping forward into matt’s chest, and he catches you there, large hand tilting your chin up.

"open that pretty mouth," he whispers. "wanna feel those lips around me."

your lips part automatically, and matt guides himself in. slow at first, letting you adjust. he moans low as your mouth wraps around him, eyes flickering down to watch your tongue lick the underside of his shaft, every flick making his breath hitch.

you’re pinned between them, fucked from behind and filled at the front, every inch of your body claimed. chris’s thrusts are deep, relentless, forcing you to take matt’s cock deeper with each push forward. he groans behind you, hands gripping your waist, keeping you steady as he pounds into you.

"so fucking tight," chris pants, sweat beading along his brow as he buries himself in you again and again. "could stay inside you all night."

"look at you," matt murmurs, eyes heavy as he strokes your cheek. "so full. taking us so good."

you whimper around him, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the intensity, the stretch, the rhythm that neither of them break. their bodies press into yours from both sides, your senses short-circuiting as pleasure coils tight in your gut.

matt rocks into your mouth slowly, watching you drool around him, eyes glazed and lips slick. "you gonna cum again?"

chris answers for you, hand sliding down to circle your clit. "she’s close. i can feel it. she’s fuckin’ squeezing me."

"let go, baby," matt breathes. "come on. we want all of it."

you do, writhing between them, mouth full, body shaking, orgasm ripping through you with a cry that’s muffled around matt’s cock. chris groans as you clench around him, hips stuttering as he spills inside you, heat flooding you with each pulse of release.

matt’s not far behind. he watches your glassy eyes, your swollen lips, the way you struggle to keep taking him, and it breaks him. he thrusts once, twice, then grips the back of your head, keeping you down as he cums in your mouth with a low, broken sound.

you swallow him. all of him. and then go still, trembling, completely spent.

they ease off gently, touching you like you’re fragile now, smoothing your hair back, kissing your skin, brushing trembling fingers over your flushed cheeks.

chris kisses your temple. matt runs a hand down your back.

"told you we’d guess your wish," chris whispers against your skin.

you manage a breathless laugh.

"you were right."

and no, you never got a bite of the cake.

────────────୨ৎ────────────

aurora's notes: chratt in my bed NOW

- aurora ᯓ✮⋆˙

likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! ੈ✩‧₊˚

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mrssturnioloo · 3 days ago