jibitzlesscrocs

[jibitzlesscrocs]

TOMORRROWWWWW STAY TUNED !!

im going to bed now

sweet dreams loves <3

[jibitzlesscrocs]

Can you do part 3 of Kid for a day where matt and your family meet riley? if you dont want to thats totally okay

AHH of course!!! you’re a gem for suggesting this

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: none

kid for a day pt. 1 , pt. 2

kid for a day pt.3

in which, the stages of little riley

Newborn Riley is tiny. Like, impossibly tiny.

When the nurse first hands her to you, she looks more like a delicate doll than a real person. Her fingers are barely as long as your pinky nail, her cheeks soft and flushed from the world’s grandest welcome. Matt hovers near you, eyes wet and unbelieving, like he still thinks someone’s going to come in and say, Just kidding, not yours.

But she is. Every blink. Every breath. Every sleepy squeak she makes from that bundle of pink blankets.

Matt holds her against his chest, and you swear the whole room shifts around them. Like the world’s never seen anything so right.

⸻

The Early Days

Marylou comes over the next day with two casseroles, a batch of fresh cookies, and eyes that instantly well with tears when she sees Riley asleep on your chest.

“She has your nose,” she whispers to Matt, cupping his face with one hand and Riley’s tiny foot with the other.

She doesn’t leave for hours. She folds laundry, rocks Riley while humming something soft and sweet, and tells you stories about baby Matt that make you laugh until it hurts.

Chris and Nick show up a few days later. Chris wears a fake “World’s Best Uncle” badge. Nick brings a baby-sized beanie that says “Mini Sturniolo” and insists it’s stylish.

Riley, naturally, throws up on both of them within minutes.

“She’s one of us,” Chris declares proudly, dabbing spit-up off his shirt with a dish towel.

***

Your own family visits with bags of food, toys, books, and more advice than you could possibly need — but the love behind every comment softens it all. Your mom cries when she holds Riley for the first time, murmuring your name like a prayer.

“She’s so much like you,” she says, and you don’t ask what she means, because it doesn’t matter. You already feel it.

Riley is a little bit of everyone — Matt’s sleepy smile, your round cheeks, Nick’s expressive eyebrows (somehow). But she’s also entirely herself.

Growing Up, Slowly

She learns to sit up while Chris sings off-key beside her on the floor. Claps for the first time when Nick lets her slap his cheeks gently and dramatically fakes a fall. Her first word? “No,” of course — Matt had her repeat it like a game one too many times.

Marylou knits her tiny sweaters and leaves little notes inside the sleeves. “Stay warm, lovebug,” one says in early spring. You keep them all in a box in the closet, already imagining Riley reading them when she’s older.

Matt teaches her how to blow raspberries. You teach her how to dance badly to ‘80s music in the kitchen. Every night ends the same: her tucked between you both, half-asleep, Matt’s hand resting over her tummy like a shield.

“She’s growing too fast,” you whisper.

“I know,” Matt murmurs. “But she’s got us. Every step.”

Riley Turns One

You don’t sleep the night before Riley’s birthday.

Not because she’s crying — she actually sleeps like a rock, drooling on Matt’s shoulder in the early morning hours — but because you’re sitting on the floor of the living room, surrounded by pink streamers and little paper hats that say ONE-derful, wondering how the hell time moved this fast.

Matt’s asleep on the couch, one arm behind his head, the other wrapped protectively around Riley, who’s curled into his chest like she was molded to fit there. Her hair’s getting longer now — still soft and wispy, curling around her ears — and her cheeks are so round you could cry looking at them.

You crawl over, press a kiss to Riley’s forehead, then one to Matt’s. He stirs and mumbles, eyes still closed, “S’her birthday, huh?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “She’s one.”

He opens one eye, reaches up and pulls you down gently until your cheek rests against his. “Best year of my life,” he says, voice rough with sleep but warm.

Riley snuffles and shifts, her tiny hand patting at his shirt, and Matt grins like the sun’s rising inside him.

⸻

The party is small — just close friends and family, cupcakes with too much frosting, and a playlist that accidentally loops the Bluey theme song five times. Riley wears a ruffled dress she immediately tries to eat, and Matt keeps lifting her up like Simba, declaring, “One year old! One! A whole year!” to anyone who will listen (including the mailman).

And then Mila arrives.

She steps in, sparkly headband on, holding a gift bag bigger than her. Immediately, she scans the room like a celebrity stepping onto a red carpet — and when her eyes land on Riley, something flickers behind them.

She marches up to Matt first. “Hi. I made you a card. It’s pink but not too pink.”

Matt kneels down, visibly delighted. “Pink-but-not-too-pink is my favorite. Thank you, Mila Bean.”

You can see her swell up at that. She even does the little shrug-smirk she’s famous for — the one that says I know I’m amazing, but I’ll accept your praise.

And then she looks at Riley.

“Oh,” she says, simply.

Riley is busy trying to remove her sock with her teeth.

Mila leans a bit closer. “That’s her?”

Matt nods. “That’s our Riley.”

“She’s kinda… bald.”

Matt tries to suppress a laugh. “She’s working on it.”

“She doesn’t even know how to read.”

“She just learned how to clap.”

You’re watching this exchange from the couch, biting your lip, unsure where it’s going. You love Mila like your own — you always have — but this is new territory. For so long, she was the baby. She had Matt wrapped around her little finger. And now there’s someone new in the picture.

Mila crosses her arms. “You and Matt used to make such a big deal out of me.”

You stand and walk over, crouching beside her. “We still do. You’re our Mila. That never changed.”

“But now she’s here,” Mila says, frowning slightly at Riley, who is now gumming the corner of a party napkin.

Matt scoops Mila up gently, settling her on his hip. “Hey. You wanna know a secret?”

She raises an eyebrow. “What.”

“You’re the reason we even knew how to love a little girl like this. You taught us. You were the first.”

Mila blinks, lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “Really?”

Matt kisses her temple. “Really. But you wanna know what’s cooler?”

“…What.”

“She needs you now. Like, big time. You get to be her hero. Her ‘big sister’ ”

There’s a pause. You swear you can see Mila’s brain running a full montage of what that means: tea parties, matching outfits, teaching Riley the lyrics to theme songs, showing her how to properly sass adults.

“…Okay,” she says, sliding down. “I’ll take care of her. But only if I can come over, like, all the time.”

Matt grins. “It’s a deal.”

And just like that, Mila is on the floor, gently trying to hand Riley a squishy purple octopus toy.

“Don’t eat it,” she warns. “It’s just pretend.”

Riley, of course, tries to eat it.

Mila sighs like she’s aged twenty years. “It’s okay. She’ll learn.”

⸻

Later that evening, after everyone’s gone and Riley’s passed out in her birthday pajamas, Matt’s lying in bed with her nestled on his chest. You walk in with a warm washcloth and find him there — his thumb gently stroking her back, her tiny fingers curled around the collar of his shirt.

“She’s perfect,” he whispers, like he still can’t believe it.

You kiss the top of his head. “She loves you so much.”

“She smiled in her sleep just now. Swear she did.”

You smile, crawling in beside them and kissing Riley’s soft cheek, then Matt’s jaw, then his lips.

“Happy first birthday to our baby girl,” you whisper.

Matt looks at both of you, his eyes full.

“Best day of my life,” he says. “Again.”

taglist : @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos

MAI’S STORE

requested by @mattspillowprincess , when i read this request i absolutely HAD to write it instantly! also i HAD to tie mila back to thisssss

i hope this is what you had in mind !!

also please tell me if this sucked 😭 and request moreee i love doing them

[jibitzlesscrocs]

Can you do part 3 of Kid for a day where matt and your family meet riley? if you dont want to thats totally okay

AHH of course!!! you’re a gem for suggesting this

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: none

kid for a day pt. 1 , pt. 2

kid for a day pt.3

in which, the stages of little riley

Newborn Riley is tiny. Like, impossibly tiny.

When the nurse first hands her to you, she looks more like a delicate doll than a real person. Her fingers are barely as long as your pinky nail, her cheeks soft and flushed from the world’s grandest welcome. Matt hovers near you, eyes wet and unbelieving, like he still thinks someone’s going to come in and say, Just kidding, not yours.

But she is. Every blink. Every breath. Every sleepy squeak she makes from that bundle of pink blankets.

Matt holds her against his chest, and you swear the whole room shifts around them. Like the world’s never seen anything so right.

⸻

The Early Days

Marylou comes over the next day with two casseroles, a batch of fresh cookies, and eyes that instantly well with tears when she sees Riley asleep on your chest.

“She has your nose,” she whispers to Matt, cupping his face with one hand and Riley’s tiny foot with the other.

She doesn’t leave for hours. She folds laundry, rocks Riley while humming something soft and sweet, and tells you stories about baby Matt that make you laugh until it hurts.

Chris and Nick show up a few days later. Chris wears a fake “World’s Best Uncle” badge. Nick brings a baby-sized beanie that says “Mini Sturniolo” and insists it’s stylish.

Riley, naturally, throws up on both of them within minutes.

“She’s one of us,” Chris declares proudly, dabbing spit-up off his shirt with a dish towel.

***

Your own family visits with bags of food, toys, books, and more advice than you could possibly need — but the love behind every comment softens it all. Your mom cries when she holds Riley for the first time, murmuring your name like a prayer.

“She’s so much like you,” she says, and you don’t ask what she means, because it doesn’t matter. You already feel it.

Riley is a little bit of everyone — Matt’s sleepy smile, your round cheeks, Nick’s expressive eyebrows (somehow). But she’s also entirely herself.

Growing Up, Slowly

She learns to sit up while Chris sings off-key beside her on the floor. Claps for the first time when Nick lets her slap his cheeks gently and dramatically fakes a fall. Her first word? “No,” of course — Matt had her repeat it like a game one too many times.

Marylou knits her tiny sweaters and leaves little notes inside the sleeves. “Stay warm, lovebug,” one says in early spring. You keep them all in a box in the closet, already imagining Riley reading them when she’s older.

Matt teaches her how to blow raspberries. You teach her how to dance badly to ‘80s music in the kitchen. Every night ends the same: her tucked between you both, half-asleep, Matt’s hand resting over her tummy like a shield.

“She’s growing too fast,” you whisper.

“I know,” Matt murmurs. “But she’s got us. Every step.”

Riley Turns One

You don’t sleep the night before Riley’s birthday.

Not because she’s crying — she actually sleeps like a rock, drooling on Matt’s shoulder in the early morning hours — but because you’re sitting on the floor of the living room, surrounded by pink streamers and little paper hats that say ONE-derful, wondering how the hell time moved this fast.

Matt’s asleep on the couch, one arm behind his head, the other wrapped protectively around Riley, who’s curled into his chest like she was molded to fit there. Her hair’s getting longer now — still soft and wispy, curling around her ears — and her cheeks are so round you could cry looking at them.

You crawl over, press a kiss to Riley’s forehead, then one to Matt’s. He stirs and mumbles, eyes still closed, “S’her birthday, huh?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “She’s one.”

He opens one eye, reaches up and pulls you down gently until your cheek rests against his. “Best year of my life,” he says, voice rough with sleep but warm.

Riley snuffles and shifts, her tiny hand patting at his shirt, and Matt grins like the sun’s rising inside him.

⸻

The party is small — just close friends and family, cupcakes with too much frosting, and a playlist that accidentally loops the Bluey theme song five times. Riley wears a ruffled dress she immediately tries to eat, and Matt keeps lifting her up like Simba, declaring, “One year old! One! A whole year!” to anyone who will listen (including the mailman).

And then Mila arrives.

She steps in, sparkly headband on, holding a gift bag bigger than her. Immediately, she scans the room like a celebrity stepping onto a red carpet — and when her eyes land on Riley, something flickers behind them.

She marches up to Matt first. “Hi. I made you a card. It’s pink but not too pink.”

Matt kneels down, visibly delighted. “Pink-but-not-too-pink is my favorite. Thank you, Mila Bean.”

You can see her swell up at that. She even does the little shrug-smirk she’s famous for — the one that says I know I’m amazing, but I’ll accept your praise.

And then she looks at Riley.

“Oh,” she says, simply.

Riley is busy trying to remove her sock with her teeth.

Mila leans a bit closer. “That’s her?”

Matt nods. “That’s our Riley.”

“She’s kinda… bald.”

Matt tries to suppress a laugh. “She’s working on it.”

“She doesn’t even know how to read.”

“She just learned how to clap.”

You’re watching this exchange from the couch, biting your lip, unsure where it’s going. You love Mila like your own — you always have — but this is new territory. For so long, she was the baby. She had Matt wrapped around her little finger. And now there’s someone new in the picture.

Mila crosses her arms. “You and Matt used to make such a big deal out of me.”

You stand and walk over, crouching beside her. “We still do. You’re our Mila. That never changed.”

“But now she’s here,” Mila says, frowning slightly at Riley, who is now gumming the corner of a party napkin.

Matt scoops Mila up gently, settling her on his hip. “Hey. You wanna know a secret?”

She raises an eyebrow. “What.”

“You’re the reason we even knew how to love a little girl like this. You taught us. You were the first.”

Mila blinks, lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “Really?”

Matt kisses her temple. “Really. But you wanna know what’s cooler?”

“…What.”

“She needs you now. Like, big time. You get to be her hero. Her ‘big sister’ ”

There’s a pause. You swear you can see Mila’s brain running a full montage of what that means: tea parties, matching outfits, teaching Riley the lyrics to theme songs, showing her how to properly sass adults.

“…Okay,” she says, sliding down. “I’ll take care of her. But only if I can come over, like, all the time.”

Matt grins. “It’s a deal.”

And just like that, Mila is on the floor, gently trying to hand Riley a squishy purple octopus toy.

“Don’t eat it,” she warns. “It’s just pretend.”

Riley, of course, tries to eat it.

Mila sighs like she’s aged twenty years. “It’s okay. She’ll learn.”

⸻

Later that evening, after everyone’s gone and Riley’s passed out in her birthday pajamas, Matt’s lying in bed with her nestled on his chest. You walk in with a warm washcloth and find him there — his thumb gently stroking her back, her tiny fingers curled around the collar of his shirt.

“She’s perfect,” he whispers, like he still can’t believe it.

You kiss the top of his head. “She loves you so much.”

“She smiled in her sleep just now. Swear she did.”

You smile, crawling in beside them and kissing Riley’s soft cheek, then Matt’s jaw, then his lips.

“Happy first birthday to our baby girl,” you whisper.

Matt looks at both of you, his eyes full.

“Best day of my life,” he says. “Again.”

taglist : @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos

MAI’S STORE

requested by @mattspillowprincess , when i read this request i absolutely HAD to write it instantly! also i HAD to tie mila back to thisssss

i hope this is what you had in mind !!

also please tell me if this sucked 😭 and request moreee i love doing them

[jibitzlesscrocs]

mai’s store yaps

give me some requests and idea for my next fic !!

[jibitzlesscrocs]

matt sturniolo x reader

warning : pregnancy

sequel to kid for a day

kid for a day pt.2

in which, matt’s wish comes true

It starts on a Tuesday. Not a particularly special Tuesday. The sun is out, your feet are freezing against the hardwood floor, and Matt’s in the kitchen mumbling to himself about oat milk and expiration dates.

You’ve taken three tests. Three. The first one, you stared at for five solid minutes like it might change if you blinked hard enough. The second, you didn’t even let finish loading before you chucked it under the sink. The third one… well, the third one is the one you hold in your hand when Matt walks into the bathroom, toothbrush hanging from his mouth and eyes half-lidded with sleep.

“What’s that?” he asks, foam bubbling at the corners of his lips.

You hold it up like it might burn you. “Positive.”

There’s a long pause. Matt stares at the test. Then at you. Then at the test again. Then he starts laughing — a little wild, a little shocked — and you’re crying, and suddenly his toothbrush is on the counter, and his arms are around you.

“You’re sure?” he whispers into your hair.

“As sure as the three tests in the trash,” you murmur back.

He pulls back just enough to look at your face. “We’re having a baby?”

You nod.

Matt kisses you then — soft and deep and stunned — like the world just cracked open, and you’re both falling into something brand new.

Two Months Later

Pregnancy is weird.

You cry at a baby commercial. You cry when the toaster burns your bagel. You cry when Matt brings home the wrong kind of pickles — then cry harder when he leaves and comes back with every single jar the store had.

You’re never not hungry. But also, sometimes, the smell of anything cooked sends you running for the sink.

Matt, bless him, becomes a walking encyclopedia of “How to Survive the First Trimester.” He Googles everything. He’s way too enthusiastic about belly creams. He talks to your stomach even though there’s barely the hint of a bump.

“Hey, bean,” he whispers one night as you’re half-asleep on the couch. “You’re making your mom puke a lot. Be cool, okay?”

You swat him lazily. “Shut up, she’s dramatic. We’re thriving.”

Matt presses a kiss to your temple. “Damn right we are.”

Telling Matt’s Family

It happens at Sunday dinner, which is less of a meal and more of a full-blown family event. There’s yelling. There’s food flying. There’s Nick arguing with Chris over who actually won the Mario Kart tournament from 2009. Matt’s mom, marylou, is plating lasagna like it’s her Olympic sport, and you’re sitting there, trying to keep your face neutral while your insides scream, say it, say it now.

Matt nudges you under the table. You give him a subtle nod, which he translates as: blurt it out at the absolute worst possible moment.

So naturally, he waits until everyone’s mid-bite.

“We’re pregnant,” he says casually, like he’s announcing he bought new socks.

Nick chokes on his breadstick. Chris drops his fork. Marylou gasps so loud you think the neighbors might call someone. His dad blinks once, then twice, like he’s buffering.

And then: absolute chaos.

“WAIT. LIKE—PREGNANT?!”

“With a baby?!” Chris yells, like there are other options.

“No, with a dolphin,” Matt deadpans. “Yes, with a baby, Chris.”

Nick’s already halfway around the table, pulling you into a hug while half-sobbing, half-laughing. “You’re gonna be someone’s mom. That’s insane. That kid’s gonna be cooler than all of us.”

“That’s not hard,” Chris mutters, still looking like he’s trying to mentally solve pregnancy algebra.

Marylou finally sets down her spoon, eyes glassy. “You’re making me a grandmother.”

“Technically, she’s making you a grandmother,” Matt says, gesturing to your barely-showing belly. You elbow him in the ribs. He grins.

Marylou is crying now — the happy, hand-over-heart, mascara-smudging kind. “I knew it. I knew something was up when she didn’t want wine last week.”

“You’re gonna be a dad,” Nick says to Matt, eyes wide like he’s seeing him for the first time.

Matt glances at you — your hand resting on your stomach, the tiny secret growing inside you both — and smiles so softly it makes your chest ache.

“I guess I am,” he says.

And somehow, amidst the lasagna and the yelling and the disbelief that Chris might soon be called “Uncle,” it all starts to feel real.

The Gender Reveal

You try to keep it lowkey. Just the two of you in the OB’s office, a blurry sonogram in your hand. The tech says “she” before you can even brace yourself.

A girl.

You laugh. Matt blinks at the monitor like she might wave.

Later that night, he lays his head on your stomach and says, “She’s gonna be wild. She’s gonna steal our fries and our hearts.”

“She already has,” you say, running your fingers through his hair.

Third Trimester

You’re big. Like, huge. Getting out of bed is a full-body workout. Your ankles don’t exist anymore. But Matt treats you like a queen.

He rubs your back when it aches. Paints the nursery a soft lavender, even though it takes three coats. He reads baby books out loud, doing terrible voices for each character.

You fight once — a real, hormonal mess of a fight — about nothing important. You cry. He cries. You make up in the kitchen with your arms wrapped around each other, pressed belly-to-belly.

“Soon,” you whisper. “She’ll be here soon.”

Matt kisses your knuckles. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

The Day She Comes

It’s 2:46 a.m. when your water breaks.

Matt trips over his sneakers trying to get to you, nearly drops his phone calling the hospital, then calms down just enough to drive — one hand on the wheel, the other gripping yours.

Labor is long. Brutal. Beautiful.

You scream. You sweat. You squeeze Matt’s hand so hard he might never recover.

But he never leaves your side.

When she finally arrives — red and wrinkly and screaming — the room goes quiet. Time pauses.

And then someone places her on Matt’s bare chest.

His arms curl around her instinctively. She’s so tiny. So real.

“Hi, Riley,” he whispers, tears dripping down his cheeks. “I’m your dad.”

You watch as she blinks up at him, and something deep inside you aches with love.

He looks over at you then, and your heart catches.

“You did it,” he says. “You brought her here.”

We did it, you think, but your voice is gone, lost in the swell of love and exhaustion.

Matt kisses Riley’s forehead. Then yours.

And in that moment — skin to skin, heart to heart — the world is small, and quiet, and perfect.

taglist: @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos

MAI’S STORE

pt 2 requested by @leahfaith enjoy !!

[jibitzlesscrocs]

matt sturniolo x reader

warning : pregnancy

sequel to kid for a day pt. 1 — pt. 3

kid for a day pt.2

in which, matt’s wish comes true

It starts on a Tuesday. Not a particularly special Tuesday. The sun is out, your feet are freezing against the hardwood floor, and Matt’s in the kitchen mumbling to himself about oat milk and expiration dates.

You’ve taken three tests. Three. The first one, you stared at for five solid minutes like it might change if you blinked hard enough. The second, you didn’t even let finish loading before you chucked it under the sink. The third one… well, the third one is the one you hold in your hand when Matt walks into the bathroom, toothbrush hanging from his mouth and eyes half-lidded with sleep.

“What’s that?” he asks, foam bubbling at the corners of his lips.

You hold it up like it might burn you. “Positive.”

There’s a long pause. Matt stares at the test. Then at you. Then at the test again. Then he starts laughing — a little wild, a little shocked — and you’re crying, and suddenly his toothbrush is on the counter, and his arms are around you.

“You’re sure?” he whispers into your hair.

“As sure as the three tests in the trash,” you murmur back.

He pulls back just enough to look at your face. “We’re having a baby?”

You nod.

Matt kisses you then — soft and deep and stunned — like the world just cracked open, and you’re both falling into something brand new.

Two Months Later

Pregnancy is weird.

You cry at a baby commercial. You cry when the toaster burns your bagel. You cry when Matt brings home the wrong kind of pickles — then cry harder when he leaves and comes back with every single jar the store had.

You’re never not hungry. But also, sometimes, the smell of anything cooked sends you running for the sink.

Matt, bless him, becomes a walking encyclopedia of “How to Survive the First Trimester.” He Googles everything. He’s way too enthusiastic about belly creams. He talks to your stomach even though there’s barely the hint of a bump.

“Hey, bean,” he whispers one night as you’re half-asleep on the couch. “You’re making your mom puke a lot. Be cool, okay?”

You swat him lazily. “Shut up, she’s dramatic. We’re thriving.”

Matt presses a kiss to your temple. “Damn right we are.”

Telling Matt’s Family

It happens at Sunday dinner, which is less of a meal and more of a full-blown family event. There’s yelling. There’s food flying. There’s Nick arguing with Chris over who actually won the Mario Kart tournament from 2009. Matt’s mom, marylou, is plating lasagna like it’s her Olympic sport, and you’re sitting there, trying to keep your face neutral while your insides scream, say it, say it now.

Matt nudges you under the table. You give him a subtle nod, which he translates as: blurt it out at the absolute worst possible moment.

So naturally, he waits until everyone’s mid-bite.

“We’re pregnant,” he says casually, like he’s announcing he bought new socks.

Nick chokes on his breadstick. Chris drops his fork. Marylou gasps so loud you think the neighbors might call someone. His dad blinks once, then twice, like he’s buffering.

And then: absolute chaos.

“WAIT. LIKE—PREGNANT?!”

“With a baby?!” Chris yells, like there are other options.

“No, with a dolphin,” Matt deadpans. “Yes, with a baby, Chris.”

Nick’s already halfway around the table, pulling you into a hug while half-sobbing, half-laughing. “You’re gonna be someone’s mom. That’s insane. That kid’s gonna be cooler than all of us.”

“That’s not hard,” Chris mutters, still looking like he’s trying to mentally solve pregnancy algebra.

Marylou finally sets down her spoon, eyes glassy. “You’re making me a grandmother.”

“Technically, she’s making you a grandmother,” Matt says, gesturing to your barely-showing belly. You elbow him in the ribs. He grins.

Marylou is crying now — the happy, hand-over-heart, mascara-smudging kind. “I knew it. I knew something was up when she didn’t want wine last week.”

“You’re gonna be a dad,” Nick says to Matt, eyes wide like he’s seeing him for the first time.

Matt glances at you — your hand resting on your stomach, the tiny secret growing inside you both — and smiles so softly it makes your chest ache.

“I guess I am,” he says.

And somehow, amidst the lasagna and the yelling and the disbelief that Chris might soon be called “Uncle,” it all starts to feel real.

The Gender Reveal

You try to keep it lowkey. Just the two of you in the OB’s office, a blurry sonogram in your hand. The tech says “she” before you can even brace yourself.

A girl.

You laugh. Matt blinks at the monitor like she might wave.

Later that night, he lays his head on your stomach and says, “She’s gonna be wild. She’s gonna steal our fries and our hearts.”

“She already has,” you say, running your fingers through his hair.

Third Trimester

You’re big. Like, huge. Getting out of bed is a full-body workout. Your ankles don’t exist anymore. But Matt treats you like a queen.

He rubs your back when it aches. Paints the nursery a soft lavender, even though it takes three coats. He reads baby books out loud, doing terrible voices for each character.

You fight once — a real, hormonal mess of a fight — about nothing important. You cry. He cries. You make up in the kitchen with your arms wrapped around each other, pressed belly-to-belly.

“Soon,” you whisper. “She’ll be here soon.”

Matt kisses your knuckles. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

The Day She Comes

It’s 2:46 a.m. when your water breaks.

Matt trips over his sneakers trying to get to you, nearly drops his phone calling the hospital, then calms down just enough to drive — one hand on the wheel, the other gripping yours.

Labor is long. Brutal. Beautiful.

You scream. You sweat. You squeeze Matt’s hand so hard he might never recover.

But he never leaves your side.

When she finally arrives — red and wrinkly and screaming — the room goes quiet. Time pauses.

And then someone places her on Matt’s bare chest.

His arms curl around her instinctively. She’s so tiny. So real.

“Hi, Riley,” he whispers, tears dripping down his cheeks. “I’m your dad.”

You watch as she blinks up at him, and something deep inside you aches with love.

He looks over at you then, and your heart catches.

“You did it,” he says. “You brought her here.”

We did it, you think, but your voice is gone, lost in the swell of love and exhaustion.

Matt kisses Riley’s forehead. Then yours.

And in that moment — skin to skin, heart to heart — the world is small, and quiet, and perfect.

taglist: @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos

MAI’S STORE

pt 2 requested by @leahfaith enjoy !!

[jibitzlesscrocs]

chris sturniolo x reader

warning : angst , fluff at the end

together on christmas

in which , it finally feels like christmas

“Look at this place!” you exclaimed, pulling into the snowy driveway of the cozy Vermont cabin. You craned your neck to admire the twinkling lights draped across the roofline. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Six-year-old Cody kicked open his car door before you could even finish your sentence, whacking your leg as he bounded into the snow. “Sorry, Mommy!” he called over his shoulder as you grabbed his arm before he could slip.

“Careful,” you warned, guiding him around the car. “I’ll get your sister—stay close.”

Little Amelia whimpered from her car seat, cheeks flushed with cold. You unbuckled her, wrapping her in the thick pink blanket Chris had bought during a fall trip you barely remember now. She snuggled into your shoulder, soft and sleepy.

This wasn’t the Christmas you imagined a year ago. After your divorce that summer, you had braced yourself for split holidays, birthday negotiations, and awkward public encounters. But Chris had surprised you. Instead of whisking the kids to his family or avoiding the holiday altogether, he suggested this—one trip, one house, one united front… for the kids.

Only, he wasn’t here yet.

You’d called the cabin company ahead, just in case. And now, standing in the rustic foyer, trying to corral Cody while rocking Amelia, you smiled politely at the manager. “Thanks,” you said. “We’ll manage fine.”

But the hours ticked by, and still no sign of Chris.

By the time the kids were in their pajamas and dozing off—Amelia curled into your side like always, Cody sprawled out like a starfish on the floor—you’d already called Chris twice. Voicemail. So you called Nick, Chris’s best friend and your emotional support line through this messy split.

“Any sign of him?” Nick asked.

“Nope. Just me and the wine cellar he didn’t tell me about.”

You both laughed, but it was tired laughter. Cody had been rowdy, Amelia fussy, and it all felt like too much. Especially with Chris—handsome, unpredictable, and still very much the man you once loved—MIA.

“He’ll show,” Nick promised gently. “You know he wouldn’t miss this.”

“He already has,” you murmured. “Again.”

When the door finally opened near midnight, you didn’t even look up. You heard the suitcase wheels, the snow-crusted boots, the familiar “Hey.”

You sipped your wine.

“Kids asleep?” he asked quietly.

“They were, hours ago,” you replied coolly, still not meeting his gaze.

“I—my flight got—”

“Don’t,” you snapped, turning to face him. “Don’t give me the airline excuse and expect it to fix everything.”

Chris flinched. “I’m not trying to fix everything. I just thought… I thought we could make this nice. Civil.”

You laughed dryly. “You thought wrong.”

The argument that followed was a dance you’d done before—too much wine in your voice, too much silence in his. Accusations flew like snowballs, but when Amelia started crying upstairs, you shoved past him, holding onto the only thing that mattered: your daughter.

“She doesn’t fall asleep easily anymore,” you whispered, cradling her. “And you wouldn’t know that, because you’re never here.”

Chris stood in the doorway, guilt lining every inch of his face.

You rocked Amelia until she drifted off, kissed her warm forehead, and turned to find Chris still there, watching the two of you like a man outside a window of his own home.

“She’s beautiful,” he murmured.

You nodded. “She looks just like you.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I really tried.”

“I know,” you whispered, and that was the problem. You always knew he wanted to do the right thing. But wanting wasn’t the same as doing.

⸻

The next morning, you woke to the smell of toast and cocoa.

Padding down the stairs, you blinked in the golden light. Chris had Amelia perched on his hip, bouncing her gently, while Cody yelled about how he was “the toast boss.”

“What are you guys making?” you asked, tickling Amelia’s belly as you kissed her chubby cheek.

Chris smiled—God, that smile still wrecked you. “Chef Cody’s specialty,” he said. “Burnt toast with extra butter.”

“It’s my thing!” Cody beamed, holding up his masterpiece.

Later, you ventured out together—snow tubing, cocoa in hand, Amelia giggling from your arms while Chris coached Cody like a pro. You were almost convinced everything was… okay.

Until Cody turned to Chris later that evening, asking for a fist bump. “Mommy’s friend Ben taught me that!”

Your stomach dropped.

Chris stiffened. “Ben?”

You shot Cody a warning glance, but the damage was done.

Later, when the kids were in bed and you were wrapping Amelia’s birthday gifts, Chris cornered you.

“So… Ben?”

“Really?” you sighed. “We’re doing this?”

“Are you seeing him?”

You taped the wrapping paper harder than necessary. “He’s a family friend, Chris. You’ve met him. Years ago. Don’t do this.”

“You brought him around our kids.”

You turned to face him. “Because I had no one else.”

Chris flinched, his jealousy boiling under his skin. “You always had me.”

You stared at him, lips trembling. “Did I, Chris? Because I remember a lot of lonely nights and missed phone calls and one too many times I lied to Cody about why Daddy wasn’t home again.”

Silence.

Then: “I miss you.”

You shook your head. “Don’t do this.”

“I never stopped loving you.”

You closed your eyes.

Chris stepped forward, gently pulling you to him. His hands settled on your hips like they’d never forgotten the shape of you. “I miss us. I miss your laugh in the kitchen and the way you look at our kids like they’re magic. I miss waking up with you. Fighting with you. Kissing you.”

His voice cracked. “Please… give me a second chance.”

You looked up at him, heart beating out of control. “I want to. God, Chris, I do.”

He leaned in, lips brushing yours, hesitant but full of aching love.

And when you kissed him back, it was all there. The memories. The pain. The passion. The hope.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips. “Let’s figure this out. Together.”

You cupped his face, eyes full of tears. “We will.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time, and when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “I promise I’ll never stop showing up.”

“Good,” you smiled. “Because we’re in this for life.”

Christmas morning

You woke to cocoa on the nightstand and the sound of Amelia singing “Jingle Bells” off-key from the living room. The scent of cinnamon rolls filled the air, warm and nostalgic.

You padded to the stairs in thick socks, heart thudding. From your perch, you watched them: Cody unwrapping a sled with a gasp of excitement, Amelia twirling in a too-big Santa hat, and Chris—on the rug, cross-legged, smiling like he hadn’t in years.

He caught your eye.

Something in his face softened. He stood slowly, brushing off wrapping paper.

You didn’t move.

He walked to the base of the stairs, quiet, open.

“Hey,” he said.

You offered a tired smile. “Hey.”

“I made cocoa. The kind you like. With the little marshmallows.”

“You remembered.”

“Kind of hard to forget someone who used to demand them year-round.”

You exhaled a laugh. “That tracks.”

He looked down for a beat, then back up. “I… I didn’t think you’d still be here. This morning.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’ve given you a thousand reasons to leave.”

“And yet,” you said softly, “you’re the one who always left first.”

That hit. He swallowed, nodding. “I know.”

You stepped down one stair, then another. “Why are you really here, Chris?”

“I told you. For the kids.”

You gave him a look.

He sighed. “Okay. For you, too. For us.”

You stopped just above him. “Us doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Then let me build it again. Slowly. Brick by brick. I’ll earn it, I swear.”

You shook your head. “It’s not just about effort, Chris. It’s about being present. Every day. Not just the ones with fairy lights and presents.”

“I know. I’m not here for the good days only.” His voice cracked. “I’ll be here for the ugly ones, too. The ones where we argue over groceries or I forget to take the trash out. I want to be here for the mundane. For the hard. For all of it.”

You stared at him, heart thudding.

He pulled something from his pocket. A small key. He held it out.

“I don’t want to go back to an empty apartment after this. I don’t want to visit my kids. I want to come home to them. To you. If… if you’ll let me.”

You took the key, fingers brushing his. “Don’t give me this unless you mean it.”

“I mean it,” he said quietly. “Every word.”

You studied his face. The softness in his eyes. The way he looked at you—not like a man trying to reclaim something, but like one who’d finally realized what he should’ve never let go.

“Come outside with me,” you whispered.

He blinked. “Now?”

“Yeah.”

⸻

You stepped onto the porch, wrapping yourself in your coat. He followed, tugging his beanie down against the cold.

The morning was still, snow blanketing the trees in silver hush. You stood there, side by side, watching Cody launch himself down a hill with Amelia screaming joyfully behind him.

“They look happy,” he said.

“They are. Right now, they are.”

Chris turned to you. “I want to help keep it that way.”

You looked at him, eyes glassy.

“I’m scared,” you admitted.

“So am I.”

“But I don’t hate you anymore,” you added quietly.

“I never hated you,” he replied. “I hated who I became when I stopped showing up.”

You nodded slowly.

He took a breath. “Can I hold your hand?”

You hesitated. Then slipped your fingers into his.

Warm. Familiar. Safe.

After a long moment, you whispered, “If you’re going to love me again, Chris… love me like it’s the first time.”

He looked down at you, eyes shining. “No. Better. I’ll love you like I finally understand how.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder.

For the first time in a long time, it felt like Christmas.

taglist: @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos

MAI’S STORE

i love this

[jibitzlesscrocs]

chris sturniolo x reader

warning : angst , fluff at the end

together on christmas

in which , it finally feels like christmas

“Look at this place!” you exclaimed, pulling into the snowy driveway of the cozy Vermont cabin. You craned your neck to admire the twinkling lights draped across the roofline. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Six-year-old Cody kicked open his car door before you could even finish your sentence, whacking your leg as he bounded into the snow. “Sorry, Mommy!” he called over his shoulder as you grabbed his arm before he could slip.

“Careful,” you warned, guiding him around the car. “I’ll get your sister—stay close.”

Little Amelia whimpered from her car seat, cheeks flushed with cold. You unbuckled her, wrapping her in the thick pink blanket Chris had bought during a fall trip you barely remember now. She snuggled into your shoulder, soft and sleepy.

This wasn’t the Christmas you imagined a year ago. After your divorce that summer, you had braced yourself for split holidays, birthday negotiations, and awkward public encounters. But Chris had surprised you. Instead of whisking the kids to his family or avoiding the holiday altogether, he suggested this—one trip, one house, one united front… for the kids.

Only, he wasn’t here yet.

You’d called the cabin company ahead, just in case. And now, standing in the rustic foyer, trying to corral Cody while rocking Amelia, you smiled politely at the manager. “Thanks,” you said. “We’ll manage fine.”

But the hours ticked by, and still no sign of Chris.

By the time the kids were in their pajamas and dozing off—Amelia curled into your side like always, Cody sprawled out like a starfish on the floor—you’d already called Chris twice. Voicemail. So you called Nick, Chris’s best friend and your emotional support line through this messy split.

“Any sign of him?” Nick asked.

“Nope. Just me and the wine cellar he didn’t tell me about.”

You both laughed, but it was tired laughter. Cody had been rowdy, Amelia fussy, and it all felt like too much. Especially with Chris—handsome, unpredictable, and still very much the man you once loved—MIA.

“He’ll show,” Nick promised gently. “You know he wouldn’t miss this.”

“He already has,” you murmured. “Again.”

When the door finally opened near midnight, you didn’t even look up. You heard the suitcase wheels, the snow-crusted boots, the familiar “Hey.”

You sipped your wine.

“Kids asleep?” he asked quietly.

“They were, hours ago,” you replied coolly, still not meeting his gaze.

“I—my flight got—”

“Don’t,” you snapped, turning to face him. “Don’t give me the airline excuse and expect it to fix everything.”

Chris flinched. “I’m not trying to fix everything. I just thought… I thought we could make this nice. Civil.”

You laughed dryly. “You thought wrong.”

The argument that followed was a dance you’d done before—too much wine in your voice, too much silence in his. Accusations flew like snowballs, but when Amelia started crying upstairs, you shoved past him, holding onto the only thing that mattered: your daughter.

“She doesn’t fall asleep easily anymore,” you whispered, cradling her. “And you wouldn’t know that, because you’re never here.”

Chris stood in the doorway, guilt lining every inch of his face.

You rocked Amelia until she drifted off, kissed her warm forehead, and turned to find Chris still there, watching the two of you like a man outside a window of his own home.

“She’s beautiful,” he murmured.

You nodded. “She looks just like you.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I really tried.”

“I know,” you whispered, and that was the problem. You always knew he wanted to do the right thing. But wanting wasn’t the same as doing.

⸻

The next morning, you woke to the smell of toast and cocoa.

Padding down the stairs, you blinked in the golden light. Chris had Amelia perched on his hip, bouncing her gently, while Cody yelled about how he was “the toast boss.”

“What are you guys making?” you asked, tickling Amelia’s belly as you kissed her chubby cheek.

Chris smiled—God, that smile still wrecked you. “Chef Cody’s specialty,” he said. “Burnt toast with extra butter.”

“It’s my thing!” Cody beamed, holding up his masterpiece.

Later, you ventured out together—snow tubing, cocoa in hand, Amelia giggling from your arms while Chris coached Cody like a pro. You were almost convinced everything was… okay.

Until Cody turned to Chris later that evening, asking for a fist bump. “Mommy’s friend Ben taught me that!”

Your stomach dropped.

Chris stiffened. “Ben?”

You shot Cody a warning glance, but the damage was done.

Later, when the kids were in bed and you were wrapping Amelia’s birthday gifts, Chris cornered you.

“So… Ben?”

“Really?” you sighed. “We’re doing this?”

“Are you seeing him?”

You taped the wrapping paper harder than necessary. “He’s a family friend, Chris. You’ve met him. Years ago. Don’t do this.”

“You brought him around our kids.”

You turned to face him. “Because I had no one else.”

Chris flinched, his jealousy boiling under his skin. “You always had me.”

You stared at him, lips trembling. “Did I, Chris? Because I remember a lot of lonely nights and missed phone calls and one too many times I lied to Cody about why Daddy wasn’t home again.”

Silence.

Then: “I miss you.”

You shook your head. “Don’t do this.”

“I never stopped loving you.”

You closed your eyes.

Chris stepped forward, gently pulling you to him. His hands settled on your hips like they’d never forgotten the shape of you. “I miss us. I miss your laugh in the kitchen and the way you look at our kids like they’re magic. I miss waking up with you. Fighting with you. Kissing you.”

His voice cracked. “Please… give me a second chance.”

You looked up at him, heart beating out of control. “I want to. God, Chris, I do.”

He leaned in, lips brushing yours, hesitant but full of aching love.

And when you kissed him back, it was all there. The memories. The pain. The passion. The hope.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips. “Let’s figure this out. Together.”

You cupped his face, eyes full of tears. “We will.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time, and when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “I promise I’ll never stop showing up.”

“Good,” you smiled. “Because we’re in this for life.”

Christmas morning

You woke to cocoa on the nightstand and the sound of Amelia singing “Jingle Bells” off-key from the living room. The scent of cinnamon rolls filled the air, warm and nostalgic.

You padded to the stairs in thick socks, heart thudding. From your perch, you watched them: Cody unwrapping a sled with a gasp of excitement, Amelia twirling in a too-big Santa hat, and Chris—on the rug, cross-legged, smiling like he hadn’t in years.

He caught your eye.

Something in his face softened. He stood slowly, brushing off wrapping paper.

You didn’t move.

He walked to the base of the stairs, quiet, open.

“Hey,” he said.

You offered a tired smile. “Hey.”

“I made cocoa. The kind you like. With the little marshmallows.”

“You remembered.”

“Kind of hard to forget someone who used to demand them year-round.”

You exhaled a laugh. “That tracks.”

He looked down for a beat, then back up. “I… I didn’t think you’d still be here. This morning.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’ve given you a thousand reasons to leave.”

“And yet,” you said softly, “you’re the one who always left first.”

That hit. He swallowed, nodding. “I know.”

You stepped down one stair, then another. “Why are you really here, Chris?”

“I told you. For the kids.”

You gave him a look.

He sighed. “Okay. For you, too. For us.”

You stopped just above him. “Us doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Then let me build it again. Slowly. Brick by brick. I’ll earn it, I swear.”

You shook your head. “It’s not just about effort, Chris. It’s about being present. Every day. Not just the ones with fairy lights and presents.”

“I know. I’m not here for the good days only.” His voice cracked. “I’ll be here for the ugly ones, too. The ones where we argue over groceries or I forget to take the trash out. I want to be here for the mundane. For the hard. For all of it.”

You stared at him, heart thudding.

He pulled something from his pocket. A small key. He held it out.

“I don’t want to go back to an empty apartment after this. I don’t want to visit my kids. I want to come home to them. To you. If… if you’ll let me.”

You took the key, fingers brushing his. “Don’t give me this unless you mean it.”

“I mean it,” he said quietly. “Every word.”

You studied his face. The softness in his eyes. The way he looked at you—not like a man trying to reclaim something, but like one who’d finally realized what he should’ve never let go.

“Come outside with me,” you whispered.

He blinked. “Now?”

“Yeah.”

⸻

You stepped onto the porch, wrapping yourself in your coat. He followed, tugging his beanie down against the cold.

The morning was still, snow blanketing the trees in silver hush. You stood there, side by side, watching Cody launch himself down a hill with Amelia screaming joyfully behind him.

“They look happy,” he said.

“They are. Right now, they are.”

Chris turned to you. “I want to help keep it that way.”

You looked at him, eyes glassy.

“I’m scared,” you admitted.

“So am I.”

“But I don’t hate you anymore,” you added quietly.

“I never hated you,” he replied. “I hated who I became when I stopped showing up.”

You nodded slowly.

He took a breath. “Can I hold your hand?”

You hesitated. Then slipped your fingers into his.

Warm. Familiar. Safe.

After a long moment, you whispered, “If you’re going to love me again, Chris… love me like it’s the first time.”

He looked down at you, eyes shining. “No. Better. I’ll love you like I finally understand how.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder.

For the first time in a long time, it felt like Christmas.

taglist: @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos

MAI’S STORE

i love this

[jibitzlesscrocs]

matt sturniolo x reader

warning : none

kid for a day

in which you film a youtube video, “being parents for 24 HOURS”

You started the camera with a grin, your phone propped up on the kitchen counter, recording the beginning of what was either going to be the cutest video on your channel or absolute chaos.

“Hey guys! Welcome back to the channel! Soooo… Matt and I may or may not have caught baby fever scrolling through TikTok—”

“May or may not?” Matt chimed in from behind you, raising an eyebrow. “You were the one sending me videos at 3 a.m. of toddlers saying ‘I wuv you’ with sparkly eye filters.”

You turned to smirk at him. “Okay, but you heart-reacted to every single one.”

He shrugged, slipping his arm around your waist. “Fair.”

You grinned at the camera. “So today… we’re taking care of a kid. For a whole day.”

Matt held up a pink, tiny backpack with cartoon animals on it. “Meet Mila. Age three. Chicken nugget enthusiast. Has better fashion taste than me.”

A quiet knock came at the door and your stomach did a little excited flip. “Showtime.”

10:14 AM – The Drop-Off

Mila was the tiniest human being you’d ever seen, with two messy pigtails, pink sparkly shoes, and the softest little voice.

“Hi,” she said shyly, gripping the arm of her stuffed bunny like it was a security blanket.

Matt kneeled down instantly. “Hi Mila. I’m Matt, and this is…” He looked up at you. “This is my favorite person in the whole world.”

You rolled your eyes but felt your heart burst just a little.

Mila blinked up at him. “You’re tall.”

Matt gasped dramatically. “You’re right. I am. Thank you for noticing.”

You all laughed, and her mom gave you the rundown—snack schedule, nap window, what to do in case of meltdowns.

Mila waved goodbye to her mom with one hand and held Matt’s with the other. “Let’s go get chicken nuggies.”

12:03 PM – McDonald’s

Mila knew exactly what she wanted. “Nuggies,” she said with full confidence, her little hands gripping the edge of the counter. “With dip. Red one.”

Matt froze. You could feel the tension beside you.

You turned slowly. “She means ketchup.”

Matt blinked. “She would.”

You leaned in and whispered, “Be strong. For the vlog.”

Matt took a deep breath like he was preparing for battle. “Right. Ketchup. Delicious. Love that.”

You placed the tray down at the table, Mila hopping excitedly into the booth. She grabbed a nugget, dunked it lovingly in the ketchup, and held it up to Matt.

“For you,” she said sweetly, like she was offering him a gourmet creation.

He looked at the nugget like it was toxic waste. “Oh wow, thank you. That’s so… thoughtful.”

“Eat it,” she whispered, staring him down like a mafia boss in a sparkly shirt.

You covered your mouth to stifle the laugh.

Matt leaned in dramatically, taking the smallest possible bite while holding back visible disgust. His eye twitched.

“Yum,” he said, deadpan. “That was so… red.”

Mila beamed. “You’re welcome.”

As soon as she looked away, Matt spits it out discreetly, chugging down his coke, and mouthed to you, “I’m dying.”

You mouthed back, “You did great, baby.”

2:45 PM – The Mall

You had prepared for chaos—tantrums, tears, maybe even a lost toddler in the LEGO store. But Mila? Mila wanted exactly one thing.

They passed an entire row of flashy toys and she pointed only at a soft, rainbow-colored stuffed bear. “Him.”

“You sure?” you asked, already picking it up.

She nodded. “He’s soft. Like clouds.”

Matt just looked at her, then at the bear, then at you. “She has taste. I love her. We’re keeping her.”

You laughed, handing the bear over. “You say that now. Wait until she throws yogurt on your shirt.”

“She can throw yogurt on my soul, I don’t even care.”

4:30 PM – Ice Cream Stop

Mila stood in front of the ice cream counter like she was judging a Michelin-starred restaurant.

“That one.” She pointed confidently at the rainbow sherbet.

Matt looked down at her, eyebrows raised. “We have the same taste? Are we twins?”

She giggled, clutching her new bear. “Nooo, you’re too big to be a twin.”

You got vanilla, feeling like the boring one as Matt and Mila happily dug into their matching, neon-colored scoops.

“I feel judged,” you teased.

“You should,” Matt said around a bite. “This is the superior flavor. Isn’t it, Mila?”

Mila nodded sagely. “Vanilla’s for nap time.”

6:15 PM – Sunset, On the Way Home

The sun was casting a warm golden glow across the backseat. Mila, once a ball of chaotic sunshine, was now a sleepy puddle in Matt’s arms, her thumb in her mouth and her new stuffed bear squished under her chin.

Matt carried her gently up the steps, careful with every move like she was glass. Her head leaned against his shoulder, a tiny sigh escaping her.

“Daddy…” she mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

Matt froze. You did too.

He looked at you, wide-eyed but soft. “Did she just—”

You nodded, heart squeezing. “She did.”

Inside, you tucked her into a blanket on the couch, and you both sat nearby, whispering so you wouldn’t wake her.

“She’s been an angel all day,” you said quietly. “Didn’t even ask for anything crazy.”

Matt looked down at her, then up at you. “I love how she holds your hand like she trusts you more than gravity.”

You smiled. “She trusted you instantly. She barely let go of your side.”

He reached over and took your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. “She made today feel like a little preview. Like… this could be us.”

You blushed, laughing nervously. “Yeah, but with more diaper changes.”

Matt tilted his head at you, suddenly serious—but still with that playful glint in his eye. “Can we have one?”

You blinked. “What?”

“A baby.” He pouted. “Can we have one? Soon?”

Your heart completely melted. “You mean… like for real?”

He nodded, eyes locked on yours. “I want to raise a little version of you. Or me. Or both. But preferably someone who picks rainbow sherbet.”

You leaned in and kissed him, still holding hands, the sleepy sound of Mila’s soft breathing filling the quiet.

7:05 - Outro

The camera was back on the kitchen counter, catching both your faces in the evening light.

Matt had Mila’s stuffed bear sitting on his shoulder.

“She was the sweetest little thing ever,” you gushed.

Matt nodded. “I think she taught me more about patience and chicken nuggets than anyone in my life.”

You laughed. “We’re officially cured of baby fever…”

“Or are we?” Matt said, staring into the camera like it was an episode of The Office.

You looked at him, teasing. “Don’t start.”

He turned to you with a dramatic pout again. “Please?”

You shook your head, laughing, knowing deep down—you were already imagining what your rainbow sherbet kid might look like.

taglist: @courta13 @sunkissedsturniolos

MAI’S STORE

saw the rainbow sherbet story matt posted and instantly taught of this

[jibitzlesscrocs]

matt sturniolo x reader

warning : none

kid for a day pt .2

kid for a day

in which you film a youtube video, “being parents for 24 HOURS”

You started the camera with a grin, your phone propped up on the kitchen counter, recording the beginning of what was either going to be the cutest video on your channel or absolute chaos.

“Hey guys! Welcome back to the channel! Soooo… Matt and I may or may not have caught baby fever scrolling through TikTok—”

“May or may not?” Matt chimed in from behind you, raising an eyebrow. “You were the one sending me videos at 3 a.m. of toddlers saying ‘I wuv you’ with sparkly eye filters.”

You turned to smirk at him. “Okay, but you heart-reacted to every single one.”

He shrugged, slipping his arm around your waist. “Fair.”

You grinned at the camera. “So today… we’re taking care of a kid. For a whole day.”

Matt held up a pink, tiny backpack with cartoon animals on it. “Meet Mila. Age three. Chicken nugget enthusiast. Has better fashion taste than me.”

A quiet knock came at the door and your stomach did a little excited flip. “Showtime.”

10:14 AM – The Drop-Off

Mila was the tiniest human being you’d ever seen, with two messy pigtails, pink sparkly shoes, and the softest little voice.

“Hi,” she said shyly, gripping the arm of her stuffed bunny like it was a security blanket.

Matt kneeled down instantly. “Hi Mila. I’m Matt, and this is…” He looked up at you. “This is my favorite person in the whole world.”

You rolled your eyes but felt your heart burst just a little.

Mila blinked up at him. “You’re tall.”

Matt gasped dramatically. “You’re right. I am. Thank you for noticing.”

You all laughed, and her mom gave you the rundown—snack schedule, nap window, what to do in case of meltdowns.

Mila waved goodbye to her mom with one hand and held Matt’s with the other. “Let’s go get chicken nuggies.”

12:03 PM – McDonald’s

Mila knew exactly what she wanted. “Nuggies,” she said with full confidence, her little hands gripping the edge of the counter. “With dip. Red one.”

Matt froze. You could feel the tension beside you.

You turned slowly. “She means ketchup.”

Matt blinked. “She would.”

You leaned in and whispered, “Be strong. For the vlog.”

Matt took a deep breath like he was preparing for battle. “Right. Ketchup. Delicious. Love that.”

You placed the tray down at the table, Mila hopping excitedly into the booth. She grabbed a nugget, dunked it lovingly in the ketchup, and held it up to Matt.

“For you,” she said sweetly, like she was offering him a gourmet creation.

He looked at the nugget like it was toxic waste. “Oh wow, thank you. That’s so… thoughtful.”

“Eat it,” she whispered, staring him down like a mafia boss in a sparkly shirt.

You covered your mouth to stifle the laugh.

Matt leaned in dramatically, taking the smallest possible bite while holding back visible disgust. His eye twitched.

“Yum,” he said, deadpan. “That was so… red.”

Mila beamed. “You’re welcome.”

As soon as she looked away, Matt spits it out discreetly, chugging down his coke, and mouthed to you, “I’m dying.”

You mouthed back, “You did great, baby.”

2:45 PM – The Mall

You had prepared for chaos—tantrums, tears, maybe even a lost toddler in the LEGO store. But Mila? Mila wanted exactly one thing.

They passed an entire row of flashy toys and she pointed only at a soft, rainbow-colored stuffed bear. “Him.”

“You sure?” you asked, already picking it up.

She nodded. “He’s soft. Like clouds.”

Matt just looked at her, then at the bear, then at you. “She has taste. I love her. We’re keeping her.”

You laughed, handing the bear over. “You say that now. Wait until she throws yogurt on your shirt.”

“She can throw yogurt on my soul, I don’t even care.”

4:30 PM – Ice Cream Stop

Mila stood in front of the ice cream counter like she was judging a Michelin-starred restaurant.

“That one.” She pointed confidently at the rainbow sherbet.

Matt looked down at her, eyebrows raised. “We have the same taste? Are we twins?”

She giggled, clutching her new bear. “Nooo, you’re too big to be a twin.”

You got vanilla, feeling like the boring one as Matt and Mila happily dug into their matching, neon-colored scoops.

“I feel judged,” you teased.

“You should,” Matt said around a bite. “This is the superior flavor. Isn’t it, Mila?”

Mila nodded sagely. “Vanilla’s for nap time.”

6:15 PM – Sunset, On the Way Home

The sun was casting a warm golden glow across the backseat. Mila, once a ball of chaotic sunshine, was now a sleepy puddle in Matt’s arms, her thumb in her mouth and her new stuffed bear squished under her chin.

Matt carried her gently up the steps, careful with every move like she was glass. Her head leaned against his shoulder, a tiny sigh escaping her.

“Daddy…” she mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

Matt froze. You did too.

He looked at you, wide-eyed but soft. “Did she just—”

You nodded, heart squeezing. “She did.”

Inside, you tucked her into a blanket on the couch, and you both sat nearby, whispering so you wouldn’t wake her.

“She’s been an angel all day,” you said quietly. “Didn’t even ask for anything crazy.”

Matt looked down at her, then up at you. “I love how she holds your hand like she trusts you more than gravity.”

You smiled. “She trusted you instantly. She barely let go of your side.”

He reached over and took your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. “She made today feel like a little preview. Like… this could be us.”

You blushed, laughing nervously. “Yeah, but with more diaper changes.”

Matt tilted his head at you, suddenly serious—but still with that playful glint in his eye. “Can we have one?”

You blinked. “What?”

“A baby.” He pouted. “Can we have one? Soon?”

Your heart completely melted. “You mean… like for real?”

He nodded, eyes locked on yours. “I want to raise a little version of you. Or me. Or both. But preferably someone who picks rainbow sherbet.”

You leaned in and kissed him, still holding hands, the sleepy sound of Mila’s soft breathing filling the quiet.

7:05 - Outro

The camera was back on the kitchen counter, catching both your faces in the evening light.

Matt had Mila’s stuffed bear sitting on his shoulder.

“She was the sweetest little thing ever,” you gushed.

Matt nodded. “I think she taught me more about patience and chicken nuggets than anyone in my life.”

You laughed. “We’re officially cured of baby fever…”

“Or are we?” Matt said, staring into the camera like it was an episode of The Office.

You looked at him, teasing. “Don’t start.”

He turned to you with a dramatic pout again. “Please?”

You shook your head, laughing, knowing deep down—you were already imagining what your rainbow sherbet kid might look like.

taglist: @courta13 @sunkissedsturniolos

MAI’S STORE

saw the rainbow sherbet story matt posted and instantly taught of this

[jibitzlesscrocs]

lemme know what you think of thisss, lowkey love writing about newlywed!chris

chris sturniolo x reader

warning : suggestive information

referencing the wedding tiktok trend

wedding polaroids

in which, chris gets polaroids of his wife

After what felt like years of Pinterest boards, late-night planning calls, and a million shared photo albums, the day Chris and his fiancée, you — had been dreaming of finally arrived. The wedding was everything the two of you (mostly you) had envisioned: timeless, intimate, and dripping in elegance without being flashy. Just close friends, cherished family, soft music, and a setting kissed by nature.

The theme? Subtle garden romance. Delicate strings of fairy lights twinkled above long wooden tables adorned with soft cream florals, sage green runners, and golden tableware. The venue was tucked away in the hills, just enough distance from the world to feel like your own little universe.

You wore a bridal gown that could only be described as ethereal — form-hugging, delicate lace, elegant with a hint of sultry — just enough to make Chris’s jaw drop when he saw you walk down the aisle. His own outfit was crisp and clean: a sleek black suit and tie, and hair falling just a little messy in the way you always said drove you wild.

The vows? Personal and tear-worthy. You both poured your hearts out in front of everyone, and when Chris slipped the ring on your finger, it felt like the world sighed in contentment. The kiss you shared — long, passionate, full of promise — sealed forever.

But of course, there was one tiny detail Chris didn’t know about…

A few weeks before the big day, you saw a TikTok trend that sparked a devious little idea. A playful challenge. You enlisted your bridesmaids, and together, you shot a few private Polaroids — sultry, cheeky little glimpses meant only for Chris. The plan: deliver them discreetly during the reception to see just how long your new husband could keep it together.

********

The reception was buzzing. Guests clinked champagne flutes, laughter danced through the air, and Chris looked like sin in human form — suit jacket off, sleeves rolled, a few buttons undone, collarbones peeking through. His hair was tousled and carefree, that post-ceremony glow making him look like something out of a romantic fever dream.

He was walking around, graciously accepting congratulations from relatives, when your maid of honor slipped the first Polaroid into his hand with a cheeky wink. Chris glanced at it—and froze.

There you were, wearing his favorite black bikini that barely covering anything, kneeling with your head tilted slightly, that soft pout on your lips. The lighting, the pose, the subtle glisten of your skin — it was art. His face flushed crimson instantly. Jaw slack, he pressed the photo to his chest like a lifeline and began scanning the room for you, eyes darting around until he spotted you casually chatting with his grandmother, all innocent and glowing.

He looked back at the photo again, his lips curling into a stunned, crooked grin, eyes full of disbelief and heated affection.

Next came dinner. You sat beside him, both of you enjoying your meal, smiling and toasting with everyone. Then another bridesmaid slid the second photo across the table under a napkin.

This time, it was you in his favorite oversized hoodie — nothing underneath. Your nipples teased through the thin fabric in the photo, and the knowing smirk on your lips said everything. Chris’s breath hitched. He coughed lightly, shoved the picture into his pocket, that seem to have gotten tighter. He ran a hand through his hair, cheeks tinted pink. You pretended not to notice, calmly eating your food, your hand resting on his thigh — supportive… or so he thought.

He leaned in slightly, gripping your thigh now with intention. “You’re evil,” he whispered, biting his lip, his voice shaky.

You just smirked and gave him a playful shrug, locking eyes with your girls across the table who were holding back giggles.

Then, moments before the first dance, the final photo arrived. This time, it was bold.

You sat with your legs spread, wearing his favorite black lace lingerie set — the one that made him lose his mind every single time. The photo angle was suggestive, intimate. One look and Chris’s pupils blew wide. He groaned under his breath, immediately slipping the Polaroid into his jacket. His hand found your waist and yanked you close with a possessiveness that made your breath catch.

As the soft opening chords of your first dance played, he held you tightly in front of him, body pressed flush to yours, angled just so that no one could notice… how much he was affected. You could feel it — thick, hard, and impossible to ignore, pressed right against your upper thigh.

“You have some nerve with those pics, baby…” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly in your ear. “You better know one thing.”

“What’s that?” you whispered back, trying to hide your fluttering heart and heated skin.

Chris leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “You’re mine tonight. All night.”

You whimpered softly at his words, heart pounding as your fingers gripped the back of his neck, melting into his arms as you swayed together. The world around you blurred — just the two of you, in love, tipsy on champagne and each other.

Then came the kiss.

It wasn’t just a kiss — it was the kiss.

He dipped you slightly as the music swelled, his lips crashing onto yours in a searing, possessive, breathtaking kiss that left you trembling. Tongues tangled slowly, teasing, claiming. His hand tightened at your waist while yours threaded through his hair. The kiss was messy in the best way — a public declaration of the chaos and love brewing between you two.

And as promised, the two of you didn’t sleep at all that night.

The next morning, as sunlight poured through the honeymoon suite, your body ached in all the right ways, and walking? Well… let’s just say the only steps you took were straight back into bed with your husband grinning proudly behind you.

taglist : @courta13

MAI’S STORE

i love seeing this trend on tiktok AHAH

[jibitzlesscrocs]

chris sturniolo x reader

warning : suggestive information

referencing the wedding tiktok trend

wedding polaroids

in which, chris gets polaroids of his wife

After what felt like years of Pinterest boards, late-night planning calls, and a million shared photo albums, the day Chris and his fiancée, you — had been dreaming of finally arrived. The wedding was everything the two of you (mostly you) had envisioned: timeless, intimate, and dripping in elegance without being flashy. Just close friends, cherished family, soft music, and a setting kissed by nature.

The theme? Subtle garden romance. Delicate strings of fairy lights twinkled above long wooden tables adorned with soft cream florals, sage green runners, and golden tableware. The venue was tucked away in the hills, just enough distance from the world to feel like your own little universe.

You wore a bridal gown that could only be described as ethereal — form-hugging, delicate lace, elegant with a hint of sultry — just enough to make Chris’s jaw drop when he saw you walk down the aisle. His own outfit was crisp and clean: a sleek black suit and tie, and hair falling just a little messy in the way you always said drove you wild.

The vows? Personal and tear-worthy. You both poured your hearts out in front of everyone, and when Chris slipped the ring on your finger, it felt like the world sighed in contentment. The kiss you shared — long, passionate, full of promise — sealed forever.

But of course, there was one tiny detail Chris didn’t know about…

A few weeks before the big day, you saw a TikTok trend that sparked a devious little idea. A playful challenge. You enlisted your bridesmaids, and together, you shot a few private Polaroids — sultry, cheeky little glimpses meant only for Chris. The plan: deliver them discreetly during the reception to see just how long your new husband could keep it together.

********

The reception was buzzing. Guests clinked champagne flutes, laughter danced through the air, and Chris looked like sin in human form — suit jacket off, sleeves rolled, a few buttons undone, collarbones peeking through. His hair was tousled and carefree, that post-ceremony glow making him look like something out of a romantic fever dream.

He was walking around, graciously accepting congratulations from relatives, when your maid of honor slipped the first Polaroid into his hand with a cheeky wink. Chris glanced at it—and froze.

There you were, wearing his favorite black bikini that barely covering anything, kneeling with your head tilted slightly, that soft pout on your lips. The lighting, the pose, the subtle glisten of your skin — it was art. His face flushed crimson instantly. Jaw slack, he pressed the photo to his chest like a lifeline and began scanning the room for you, eyes darting around until he spotted you casually chatting with his grandmother, all innocent and glowing.

He looked back at the photo again, his lips curling into a stunned, crooked grin, eyes full of disbelief and heated affection.

Next came dinner. You sat beside him, both of you enjoying your meal, smiling and toasting with everyone. Then another bridesmaid slid the second photo across the table under a napkin.

This time, it was you in his favorite oversized hoodie — nothing underneath. Your nipples teased through the thin fabric in the photo, and the knowing smirk on your lips said everything. Chris’s breath hitched. He coughed lightly, shoved the picture into his pocket, that seem to have gotten tighter. He ran a hand through his hair, cheeks tinted pink. You pretended not to notice, calmly eating your food, your hand resting on his thigh — supportive… or so he thought.

He leaned in slightly, gripping your thigh now with intention. “You’re evil,” he whispered, biting his lip, his voice shaky.

You just smirked and gave him a playful shrug, locking eyes with your girls across the table who were holding back giggles.

Then, moments before the first dance, the final photo arrived. This time, it was bold.

You sat with your legs spread, wearing his favorite black lace lingerie set — the one that made him lose his mind every single time. The photo angle was suggestive, intimate. One look and Chris’s pupils blew wide. He groaned under his breath, immediately slipping the Polaroid into his jacket. His hand found your waist and yanked you close with a possessiveness that made your breath catch.

As the soft opening chords of your first dance played, he held you tightly in front of him, body pressed flush to yours, angled just so that no one could notice… how much he was affected. You could feel it — thick, hard, and impossible to ignore, pressed right against your upper thigh.

“You have some nerve with those pics, baby…” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly in your ear. “You better know one thing.”

“What’s that?” you whispered back, trying to hide your fluttering heart and heated skin.

Chris leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “You’re mine tonight. All night.”

You whimpered softly at his words, heart pounding as your fingers gripped the back of his neck, melting into his arms as you swayed together. The world around you blurred — just the two of you, in love, tipsy on champagne and each other.

Then came the kiss.

It wasn’t just a kiss — it was the kiss.

He dipped you slightly as the music swelled, his lips crashing onto yours in a searing, possessive, breathtaking kiss that left you trembling. Tongues tangled slowly, teasing, claiming. His hand tightened at your waist while yours threaded through his hair. The kiss was messy in the best way — a public declaration of the chaos and love brewing between you two.

And as promised, the two of you didn’t sleep at all that night.

The next morning, as sunlight poured through the honeymoon suite, your body ached in all the right ways, and walking? Well… let’s just say the only steps you took were straight back into bed with your husband grinning proudly behind you.

taglist : @courta13

MAI’S STORE

i love seeing this trend on tiktok AHAH lemme know what you think of thisssss

[jibitzlesscrocs]

matt sturniolo x reader

warning : smut, p n v , cockwarming

picnic bliss

in which, matt and his girlfriend go on a picnic

You and Matt had a sweet little tradition—two dates a month, no matter what. With him finally back from tour and you officially done with your online degree, there was now plenty of time to catch up… in every way imaginable. For your first date in what felt like forever, you’d planned a cozy little picnic. The second you suggested it, Matt was all in—his grin said it all.

You slipped into your favorite flowy sundress, the one that always made Matt lose his train of thought. The fabric danced around your legs as you walked out, sunlight spilling through the window just right. Matt looked up—and completely froze. His eyes drank you in, then widened just enough to give him away. You caught the way he subtly adjusted himself, cheeks tinged with heat, and bit back a knowing smile. This picnic was going to be fun.

The sun had dipped low, painting the sky in lazy shades of gold and lavender, and the mosquitoes were starting to nip a little too eagerly. You and Matt shared a look, silently agreeing to take the rest of the evening into the comfort of the car. As the doors clicked shut and the world grew quieter, you brought out a small tray of chocolate-covered strawberries, the air around you thick with unspoken tension and sweet anticipation.

Halfway through a bite, Matt’s fingers gently brushed your skin, wiping a smudge of chocolate from the corner of your mouth. Your breath caught, and your cheeks flushed in response, eyes darting anywhere but his. But Matt was already leaning in, slow and sure, drawn in by the way you smelled like sunshine and something deliciously familiar.

His lips brushed your neck—barely there, like a whisper—and suddenly, heat was curling through you in dizzy spirals. Your breathing turned shallow, and before either of you could second-guess it, you were kissing him. Hard. Lips pressed, teeth clashing in the most breathless, messy kind of way. Matt’s hands gripped your waist like he needed you close, and there was no mistaking it—he wanted you, every inch of you, with a hunger that made the car feel way too small.

Matt’s hands wandered slowly, exploring the delicate curve of your neck, the dip of your waist, the arch of your back—fingertips warm and reverent as if memorizing you all over again. You shifted, climbing over the center console with a quiet confidence, settling onto his lap with your legs on either side. The moment your hips met his, you felt him—hard and pulsing through the denim—and a low groan rumbled from his chest, deep and needy.

You began to move, slow and deliberate, grinding against him with a rhythm that had both of you breathless. The friction sent sparks up your spine, and Matt’s head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut as his hands slipped beneath your dress, dragging it higher and higher until it pooled at your waist. His breath hitched the moment he realized you weren’t wearing anything underneath.

“No panties?” he murmured, voice husky and teasing. “Such a dirty girl…”

The words made your skin prickle, a shiver rushing through your thighs as cool air kissed between them. With a smirk, Matt pushed the seat back, easing himself into a reclined position while you remained perched on top of him, still rolling your hips in lazy, sensual circles. Your clit rubbed perfectly against the rough texture of his jeans, and both of you watched the way your bodies moved—entranced by the closeness, the intimacy, the heat building between you.

Finally, the teasing became too much. Matt let out a groan and gently lifted you just enough to slide his jeans and boxers down to his knees. His cock sprang free, thick and aching, the tip glistening with need. Your breath caught, lips parting at the sight, a rush of want tightening low in your belly. He was beautiful, and he was yours.

Your hand wrapped around him, slow and deliberate, letting the silky bead of precum coat your fingers as you stroked him from base to tip. Matt let out a soft moan, hips twitching up into your touch, his breath growing ragged with every glide of your hand. His own fingers slid between your thighs, finding your clit with practiced ease, rubbing slow, teasing circles that had your breath catching in your throat. He spread your slickness around with featherlight strokes, prepping you for what was to come. Then he brought his fingers to his lips, eyes fluttering closed as he tasted you with a soft, reverent sigh.

You let go of him, your body aching for more. With shaky thighs, you positioned yourself above him, one hand on his chest for balance as you slowly began to sink down onto him. The stretch made your whole body shudder—he filled you so deeply, so completely, that it left you gasping. Matt held still, his hands cradling your hips, letting you take your time. He pressed kisses along your jaw and neck, whispering soft nothings that made your heart stutter and your body melt.

His fingers tugged gently at the top of your dress, pulling it down until your breasts spilled free. A low growl of appreciation vibrated in his throat as he cupped them, thumbs brushing over your nipples before he brought his mouth to one, kissing and sucking with slow, tender pressure. His tongue danced in lazy circles, then gave a gentle nip, pulling back with a soft pop.

He gazed up at you, dazed and in awe, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were finally here—together again, after so long.

You bit your lip, anticipation curling low in your belly as you started to move, rocking your hips forward and back. Every shift sent a wave of sensation rippling through you, Matt’s cock twitching inside you, responding to every pulse of pleasure. You picked up the pace, bouncing gently, your breasts moving with each rhythm. Matt looked completely undone beneath you—eyes hooded, lips parted, a line of saliva glinting at the corner of his mouth as he watched you ride him.

But your legs began to ache, your rhythm slowing into something deeper, more sensual. Every motion still sent sparks across your skin, and Matt matched you easily, thrusting up to meet your body with a low groan, your movements syncing perfectly. That telltale heat swirled in your belly, drawing tighter with every thrust, until a broken moan slipped past your lips and your body clenched around him.

“You’re clenching so hard, baby,” Matt groaned, voice thick with need. “Go ahead… cum on this cock.”

His fingers found your clit again, rubbing just right, sending you spiraling. You cried out, stars bursting behind your eyes as your climax washed over you, leaving you trembling in his lap. The seat beneath you grew slick with the evidence of your release, and Matt didn’t stop—his pace grew sloppy, desperate, chasing his own edge. A few deep, shuddering thrusts later, he spilled into you with a strangled moan, filling you completely.

Both of you stilled, breathless and dazed, tangled together on the reclined seat. Your head rested on his chest, his arms wrapping around you as his fingers traced light patterns along your spine. He started to pull out, but you whimpered, a quiet plea that made him chuckle softly.

“Wanna stay like this, pretty girl?” he teased, his voice soft and sleepy.

You gave a tiny nod, eyes already drifting shut, content to keep him buried inside you a little longer. The world outside had gone quiet—night had fully fallen, and the moon spilled its light through the car window, casting a soft glow over Matt’s skin. He looked almost ethereal, pale and flushed, the faint outline of a bruise forming on his neck like a secret love note you’d left behind.

You couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips before laying your head back down with a deep, satisfied sigh.

This… this was the life.

taglist : @courta13

MAI’S STORE

first smut for matt !! leave request !!! i love doing them !! and tell me how this is , i kinda wanna do more like this HAHA

[jibitzlesscrocs]

matt sturniolo x reader

warning : smut, p n v , cockwarming

picnic bliss

in which, matt and his girlfriend go on a picnic

You and Matt had a sweet little tradition—two dates a month, no matter what. With him finally back from tour and you officially done with your online degree, there was now plenty of time to catch up… in every way imaginable. For your first date in what felt like forever, you’d planned a cozy little picnic. The second you suggested it, Matt was all in—his grin said it all.

You slipped into your favorite flowy sundress, the one that always made Matt lose his train of thought. The fabric danced around your legs as you walked out, sunlight spilling through the window just right. Matt looked up—and completely froze. His eyes drank you in, then widened just enough to give him away. You caught the way he subtly adjusted himself, cheeks tinged with heat, and bit back a knowing smile. This picnic was going to be fun.

The sun had dipped low, painting the sky in lazy shades of gold and lavender, and the mosquitoes were starting to nip a little too eagerly. You and Matt shared a look, silently agreeing to take the rest of the evening into the comfort of the car. As the doors clicked shut and the world grew quieter, you brought out a small tray of chocolate-covered strawberries, the air around you thick with unspoken tension and sweet anticipation.

Halfway through a bite, Matt’s fingers gently brushed your skin, wiping a smudge of chocolate from the corner of your mouth. Your breath caught, and your cheeks flushed in response, eyes darting anywhere but his. But Matt was already leaning in, slow and sure, drawn in by the way you smelled like sunshine and something deliciously familiar.

His lips brushed your neck—barely there, like a whisper—and suddenly, heat was curling through you in dizzy spirals. Your breathing turned shallow, and before either of you could second-guess it, you were kissing him. Hard. Lips pressed, teeth clashing in the most breathless, messy kind of way. Matt’s hands gripped your waist like he needed you close, and there was no mistaking it—he wanted you, every inch of you, with a hunger that made the car feel way too small.

Matt’s hands wandered slowly, exploring the delicate curve of your neck, the dip of your waist, the arch of your back—fingertips warm and reverent as if memorizing you all over again. You shifted, climbing over the center console with a quiet confidence, settling onto his lap with your legs on either side. The moment your hips met his, you felt him—hard and pulsing through the denim—and a low groan rumbled from his chest, deep and needy.

You began to move, slow and deliberate, grinding against him with a rhythm that had both of you breathless. The friction sent sparks up your spine, and Matt’s head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut as his hands slipped beneath your dress, dragging it higher and higher until it pooled at your waist. His breath hitched the moment he realized you weren’t wearing anything underneath.

“No panties?” he murmured, voice husky and teasing. “Such a dirty girl…”

The words made your skin prickle, a shiver rushing through your thighs as cool air kissed between them. With a smirk, Matt pushed the seat back, easing himself into a reclined position while you remained perched on top of him, still rolling your hips in lazy, sensual circles. Your clit rubbed perfectly against the rough texture of his jeans, and both of you watched the way your bodies moved—entranced by the closeness, the intimacy, the heat building between you.

Finally, the teasing became too much. Matt let out a groan and gently lifted you just enough to slide his jeans and boxers down to his knees. His cock sprang free, thick and aching, the tip glistening with need. Your breath caught, lips parting at the sight, a rush of want tightening low in your belly. He was beautiful, and he was yours.

Your hand wrapped around him, slow and deliberate, letting the silky bead of precum coat your fingers as you stroked him from base to tip. Matt let out a soft moan, hips twitching up into your touch, his breath growing ragged with every glide of your hand. His own fingers slid between your thighs, finding your clit with practiced ease, rubbing slow, teasing circles that had your breath catching in your throat. He spread your slickness around with featherlight strokes, prepping you for what was to come. Then he brought his fingers to his lips, eyes fluttering closed as he tasted you with a soft, reverent sigh.

You let go of him, your body aching for more. With shaky thighs, you positioned yourself above him, one hand on his chest for balance as you slowly began to sink down onto him. The stretch made your whole body shudder—he filled you so deeply, so completely, that it left you gasping. Matt held still, his hands cradling your hips, letting you take your time. He pressed kisses along your jaw and neck, whispering soft nothings that made your heart stutter and your body melt.

His fingers tugged gently at the top of your dress, pulling it down until your breasts spilled free. A low growl of appreciation vibrated in his throat as he cupped them, thumbs brushing over your nipples before he brought his mouth to one, kissing and sucking with slow, tender pressure. His tongue danced in lazy circles, then gave a gentle nip, pulling back with a soft pop.

He gazed up at you, dazed and in awe, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were finally here—together again, after so long.

You bit your lip, anticipation curling low in your belly as you started to move, rocking your hips forward and back. Every shift sent a wave of sensation rippling through you, Matt’s cock twitching inside you, responding to every pulse of pleasure. You picked up the pace, bouncing gently, your breasts moving with each rhythm. Matt looked completely undone beneath you—eyes hooded, lips parted, a line of saliva glinting at the corner of his mouth as he watched you ride him.

But your legs began to ache, your rhythm slowing into something deeper, more sensual. Every motion still sent sparks across your skin, and Matt matched you easily, thrusting up to meet your body with a low groan, your movements syncing perfectly. That telltale heat swirled in your belly, drawing tighter with every thrust, until a broken moan slipped past your lips and your body clenched around him.

“You’re clenching so hard, baby,” Matt groaned, voice thick with need. “Go ahead… cum on this cock.”

His fingers found your clit again, rubbing just right, sending you spiraling. You cried out, stars bursting behind your eyes as your climax washed over you, leaving you trembling in his lap. The seat beneath you grew slick with the evidence of your release, and Matt didn’t stop—his pace grew sloppy, desperate, chasing his own edge. A few deep, shuddering thrusts later, he spilled into you with a strangled moan, filling you completely.

Both of you stilled, breathless and dazed, tangled together on the reclined seat. Your head rested on his chest, his arms wrapping around you as his fingers traced light patterns along your spine. He started to pull out, but you whimpered, a quiet plea that made him chuckle softly.

“Wanna stay like this, pretty girl?” he teased, his voice soft and sleepy.

You gave a tiny nod, eyes already drifting shut, content to keep him buried inside you a little longer. The world outside had gone quiet—night had fully fallen, and the moon spilled its light through the car window, casting a soft glow over Matt’s skin. He looked almost ethereal, pale and flushed, the faint outline of a bruise forming on his neck like a secret love note you’d left behind.

You couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips before laying your head back down with a deep, satisfied sigh.

This… this was the life.

taglist : @courta13

MAI’S STORE

first smut for matt !! leave request !!! i love doing them !! and tell me how this is , i kinda wanna do more like this HAHA

[jibitzlesscrocs]

mai’s store yaps

give me some requests and idea for my next fic !!

[jibitzlesscrocs]

matt vibes cause WHAT love this

"You wanna go?"

"Yeah. Can you grab my clothes?"

"Sure, baby."

He gets up, leaning down to grab his boxers and pull them on. He finds your shirt and shorts, but keeps looking around on the ground.

"What is it?"

"Where's your undies?"

"I don't have undies."

He freezes, glancing up at you.

"What?"

"I said, I don't have underwear. Can I have my clothes now?"

He steps towards you slowly, handing your clothes to you as you get up.

"Do... Did you just not wear them last night to be sexy or something?" You scoff.

"No. I don't like underwear, so I don't wear it."

He gawks at you.

"What?"

"How many times do I have to repeat myself?"

"You never wear panties? Like, ever? Not even in dresses or anything?"

"Nope."

"Oh my god." He sits down on the bed, putting his face in his hands. "Oh my god."

"What's wrong?"

"You... You don't wear panties. You're saying you've never worn panties around me? Ever?"

"Uh... besides the sexy ones, no."

"So you just go bareback, like, all the time?"

"Does it weird you out or something? Is this gonna be a thing that bothers you?"

He huffs, shaking his head. He suddenly looks up at you, grabbing your wrist.

"I need you."

"What?"

"I fucking need you."

"Babe, what? We have to go; we're meeting up for coffee, remember?"

"I'll text them and cancel." He pulls you to him, already peeling off your clothes. "I gotta have you, like, now."

"Babe, what the hell? We gotta go. What has gotten into you?"

"I gotta fuck you. You've never worn panties around me. Every date, every makeout session, every time we dry humped on the couch: your pussy was right there and I didn't even know it."

"Babe, it's literally always been there. You're acting crazy."

"Can I taste you? I want you to sit on my face. Fuck, I'm so fucking hard right now. If you touched me, I would bust instantly."

"Babe!"

[jibitzlesscrocs]

^^^^^^

Request: CHRIS ANYTHING PLS (especially bf!chris)

HAHA okay !! ill try !!!

warning: none

inspired and referenced the “we bought the zoo for a full day” video

day at the zoo

in which, it’s a zoo day at the sturniolo household

The San Diego sun cast a golden haze over the “Roar and Snore” Safari Park, warming the soft breeze that swept through the palm-lined entrance. You stood next to Chris, your hand tucked into his as the two of you waited for his brothers to finish filming the intro to their latest video. Nick was joking around about animal facts, Matt was still trying to get the camera angle right, and Chris—well, Chris was only half-listening. His thumb rubbed slow circles over your knuckles, his eyes flickering down to you with that goofy little smile he reserved just for you.

“You excited?” he whispered.

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “Of course. You guys rented out the whole zoo. That’s pretty hard to top.”

He leaned in, nudging his nose against your cheek. “Might have to rent it again… y’know, for the honeymoon.”

You laughed, but he just looked serious in that sweet, earnest way he always did when he was dreaming out loud.

“When we get married, I’m going to buy this zoo again so it can be just me and you walking around looking at zoo animals,” he said, brushing a kiss over your cheek so casually, like it didn’t just make your whole chest glow.

You melted into him, your arms wrapping around his middle. The sound of Nick and Matt yelling at each other about camera focus drifted in the background, but Chris had you in your own little world.

⸻

The zip line came first. You weren’t sure you wanted to do it, but Chris convinced you with a soft, “Come on, I’ll hold your hand the whole time.”

He kept his word. From start to finish, he didn’t let go. The two of you soared above the open savannah, the wind tangling in your hair, the sound of animals below blending with Chris’s easy laughter. You screamed once—okay, maybe twice—and he just yelled “You’re doing amazing!” like you were conquering Everest.

When you both landed, your knees wobbly and your heart racing, he kissed you hard and quick.

“Brave girl,” he whispered, forehead pressed to yours.

⸻

Later, the four of you were bouncing along on the zoo’s private safari bus. You sat pressed to Chris’s side, your knees knocking gently every time the bus hit a bump. He slung his arm around your shoulders, absentmindedly tucking your hair behind your ear while the zookeeper up front launched into a monologue about antelopes.

“Right there on your left, that’s a Nile antelope. You can tell from the horns…”

Chris leaned down and whispered, “That one kinda looks like Nick when he wakes up too early.”

You giggled, trying not to laugh too loudly as Nick turned to glare.

“I heard that.”

Chris just grinned and kissed the top of your head, completely unapologetic. You barely registered the next few minutes, too focused on the soft way his fingertips were tracing idle shapes on your thigh. Giraffes ambled past, their long necks swaying gracefully in the late afternoon light.

“Imagine us coming back here with our kids one day,” Chris murmured, eyes following one of the giraffes.

You glanced up, startled. “Kids?”

Chris just grinned, kissing your temple. “Little versions of us. Feeding giraffes. Wearing matching hats.”

You couldn’t even tease him—your heart was too full.

⸻

Evening fell with a soft lavender sky as you walked into the restaurant—completely empty, save for a table packed with food. Chris grabbed your hand and twirled you around once before pulling out your chair. Nick and Matt were already loading their plates, arguing over the desserts.

“They really gave us everything,” Chris said, looking around in disbelief. He reached for a plate, then caught your gaze and softened. “You okay?”

You nodded, sipping from your water. “Just… surreal. It’s all so beautiful.”

He leaned across the table to kiss your cheek. “You’re beautiful.”

“Okay, lover boy,” Nick groaned, tossing a napkin at Chris.

Chris caught it, threw it back with a smirk, then looked at you like you were the only person in the room.

Between filming, Chris kept grabbing little moments with you—holding your hand as they reset shots, pulling you close when no one was looking, gently tucking your hoodie hood up when it got breezy. You stood behind the camera during one take, watching him interact with the animals and his brothers, and he caught your eye and winked mid-sentence.

During one quick break, you were standing near the lion enclosure, just out of sight of the filming crew. Chris came up behind you, wrapped his arms around your waist, and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“You know,” he said quietly, “I never thought a zoo would be the most romantic place I’d take you.”

You smiled, leaning back into him. “It’s perfect.”

“I just… love seeing you like this. Happy. Calm. With me.”

You turned, kissed him softly, and he kissed you back with the kind of patience that made the world blur around the edges.

That night, as the safari lights glowed across the landscape and the animals settled into the lull of evening, Chris took one last look at the park and then down at you.

“One day,” he whispered, “we’ll come back. Same spot. Maybe with little versions of us running around. Or maybe just us again. Either way… I’ll keep renting it for you.”

And with your head resting against his shoulder and the stars blinking awake above you, you believed every word.

MAI’S STORE

done as requested !! @mattsweethart lemme know if this is what you wanted !!!!