jibitzlesscrocs

[jibitzlesscrocs]

Could you do something with free spirit reader like disappearing for a day or two because she took a spontaneous trip and bsf Matt loses it on her when she just comes back like nothing happened? Of course her intentions were never to hurt him or scare him she just doesnt always think of her actions affecting someone like shes not used to having to be considerate like that?

(Totally not self projecting here 👀)

bsf!matt sturniolo x freespirit!reader

warning : disappearing

where were you ?

in which, you go on a trip

the AU and more

You didn’t mean to scare him.

You really didn’t.

You just woke up one morning, the air too heavy, the house too quiet, your skin buzzing with that itch to just go.

So you did.

You packed a small bag, grabbed your keys, and left. A quick trip. A spontaneous drive along the coast. No big deal. You didn’t even check your phone until the second day, when you pulled into a gas station and saw the flood of missed calls, texts, voicemails. All from Matt.

Matt 🫶:

Where are you?

Did you leave town?

Can you call me?

Seriously, where did you go?

And then the last one, only a few hours ago:

I swear if you’re okay and you’re just ignoring me, I’m gonna lose it.

Your stomach sank. You’d done it again—acted like you were still the girl who didn’t belong to anyone. Who didn’t have people to consider. Who didn’t have him.

⸻

When You Got Back

You strolled into his house like nothing happened, as if you’d just popped out for coffee. Matt was in the kitchen, pacing, his phone clutched in his hand. When he saw you, his whole body froze.

“Hey,” you greeted, soft and casual, dropping your bag by the door. “I’m back.”

His jaw tightened. “You’re back?”

“Yeah.” You grabbed a water from the fridge, like this was any other Tuesday. “I just needed to clear my head, y’know? Went for a little drive.” Matt’s voice cracked on the edge of his restraint. “You were gone for two days. You didn’t answer your phone. You didn’t tell anyone where you went.”

You blinked, slowly realizing that your usual carefree, no-big-deal attitude wasn’t landing this time.

“Oh. I—I didn’t think you’d worry—”

“Didn’t think I’d worry?” His voice finally snapped, sharp and raw. “I thought something happened to you, okay? I thought you crashed your car, or got hurt, or—I didn’t know what to think because you didn’t tell me anything. You just vanished.”

You stared at him, guilt climbing in your throat.

“Matt… I didn’t mean to scare you. I just—I’ve always done this. I go when I need to go. I don’t really… tell people.”

His hands dragged through his hair, desperate, tired. “Yeah, but you’re not alone anymore. You can’t just disappear like you’re not gonna leave a crater behind.”

Oh. That hit harder than you expected.

“You’re not used to being someone’s person,” he said, softer now, like he was breaking just a little. “But you’re mine. Okay? I don’t know when that happened, but it did. I need to know you’re safe. That’s all.”

The weight of it settled in your chest—he wasn’t mad because you left. He was scared because he thought he’d lost you. You put the bottle down and crossed the room until you were right in front of him. His arms hung at his sides, tense, like he didn’t know whether to hold you or shove you away.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m used to floating through life like nobody notices when I’m gone. But you do. And I didn’t think about that. I didn’t think about you.” His eyes flicked up to meet yours, still stormy, but softening.

“I’ll try to be better,” you added. “About telling you. About remembering that I have… people now.”

He let out a shaky breath and finally pulled you into his arms, gripping the back of your hoodie like he was afraid you’d dissolve if he let go.

“Just…don’t do that to me again,” he mumbled into your shoulder. “Next time you wanna disappear, take me with you.”

You smiled, tears pricking your eyes. “Yeah. Deal.”

taglist: @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos , @ivysturnss , @imsoborediwannadie , @beabadoobeelvur , @moth-feeet , @lezleeferguson-120 , @theowensturniolo , @leahfaith , @nickysturnss , @mattspillowprincess , @mqttsbunnyies , @passionfruitchris , @emely9274 , @riggysworld , @kenah-sturniolo , @hannahsturniolo , @tezzzzzzzz , @kenah-sturniolo , @sturniolo-szn2 , @stayingstromboli , @obsessedwiththesturniolos , @ph3ebssturniolo

MAI’S STORE

alright y’all these are what you’re getting for this week, (maybe more from thursday onwards 👀) i have events from tomorrowww so enjoy these

[jibitzlesscrocs]

What was Matt like when reader got her period for the first time after giving birth to Riley and/or the twins?

kid for a day - periods

The first time it happened after Riley, you weren’t even sure what was going on at first. Postpartum bleeding had stopped months ago, you were finally feeling like yourself again, and then—bam—your period hit like a freight train.

And Matt? He panicked.

Not in a grossed-out way, but in a deeply concerned, can I fix this kind of way.

You’d casually mentioned from the bathroom, “Oh great, I think I just got my period.”

Matt, sitting on the floor with Riley half-asleep on his chest, immediately looked up.

“Wait. Are you okay? Does that hurt more now? Should I call someone? Are you supposed to—”

You couldn’t help but laugh because he looked genuinely stressed. “It’s normal, Matt.”

“But you just had a baby,” he said, as if your body shouldn’t have to deal with anything else for at least five years.

When it happened after the twins, he was more prepared, but still just as over-the-top sweet. You’d come out of the bathroom, slightly annoyed and crampy, and Matt would immediately clock your face.

“What’s wrong? What do you need? Heating pad? Chocolate? A new uterus?”

And when you waved him off, trying to play it down because hello, you had a toddler and baby twins to manage, he wasn’t having it.

“Babe, you just made two people. You’re not lifting a finger today. I’ve got the kids. You’re going to sit down, I’m ordering your favorite snacks, and if you want, we can binge watch literally anything you want—even those terrible reality shows.”

(Okay, he secretly liked those shows, but he’d never admit it.)

He’d set you up on the couch with a cozy blanket, babies napping nearby, and Riley coloring at your feet. Every ten minutes, he’d check in.

“You good? Cramps? Want me to rub your back?”

And if you got moody (because hormones + toddler = a war zone), he’d just grin, kiss your head, and say, “Don’t worry, I can handle your spicy attitude. You earned it.” Matt would 100% turn something most people find annoying or inconvenient into an opportunity to spoil you and remind you that you deserve rest, care, and softness—even in the most ordinary moments.

taglist : @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos , @ivysturnss , @imsoborediwannadie , @beabadoobeelvur , @moth-feeet , @lezleeferguson-120 , @theowensturniolo , @leahfaith , @nickysturnss , @mattspillowprincess , @mqttsbunnyies , @passionfruitchris , @emely9274 , @riggysworld , @kenah-sturniolo , @hannahsturniolo , @tezzzzzzzz , @kenah-sturniolo , @sturniolo-szn2 , @stayingstromboli , @obsessedwiththesturniolos , @ph3ebssturniolo

MAI’S STORE

[jibitzlesscrocs]

can you do a cute dad!matt and mom!reader father’s day post? maybe they make a cute little craft and have a nice day? whatever you wanna make it!

warning : none

happy father’s day

in which, matt celebrates fathers a day

Father’s Day in the Sturniolo house was anything but quiet.

It started before sunrise, as most mornings did now—with little footsteps padding across the floor and Riley’s tiny voice whisper-yelling, “Mommy! Mommy! Up! We gotta do da surpwize!” You smiled through your sleepiness, glancing at the baby monitor. Cody was already babbling in his crib, and Amelia, the smallest at just a few months old, was happily kicking her little legs, perfectly content.

You kissed Riley’s bedhead and whispered back, “Okay, let’s go.”

The plan was simple: Father’s Day crafts, a big breakfast, and a day full of love for Matt. But of course, simple plans with three kids under three usually came with a sprinkle of beautiful chaos.

You set up a little craft station in the kitchen—construction paper, finger paints, stickers, and foam letters. Riley took charge, carefully pressing her paint-covered hand onto a big card that read “Best Dad Ever!” Cody squealed and smacked both his hands into the paint without hesitation, splattering blue and green all over the table, himself, and, eventually, you. Amelia watched from her bouncer, occasionally cooing when Riley showed her the stickers she proudly stuck on the card—most of them upside down.

“Mommy! Daddy gonna love it!” Riley grinned, proudly holding up the messy, colorful masterpiece.

“You’re right, he’s gonna love it so much.”

You quickly cleaned Cody’s chubby hands, wiped off your own shirt, and got breakfast started—pancakes, Matt’s favorite.

Matt, blissfully unaware, was still sleeping when you and the three tiny conspirators crept into the bedroom. You carried the tray while Riley clutched the card tightly, Cody toddling behind you, holding one of Matt’s favorite hats because, in his mind, that was part of the gift.

Riley climbed onto the bed first. “Daddy! Daddy! Wake up! Happy Faddur’s Day!!” Matt blinked awake, a sleepy smile spreading across his face as he sat up. “What’s going on here, huh?”

Riley shoved the card into his lap with a proud, “We made you dis!”

Cody scrambled up and plopped the hat on Matt’s head, yelling, “Dada!!” like it was the biggest celebration ever.

Matt laughed, pure joy written all over his face as he read the card with its wobbly letters, colorful smudges, and crooked stickers. “You guys made this for me?”

“You da bestest daddy ever,” Riley said, matter-of-factly, like it wasn’t even up for debate.

He pulled her into a hug, kissed Cody’s soft curls, and gently stroked Amelia’s tiny hand as you handed her to him. “You guys are my whole world. Thank you.”

The rest of the day was slow and sweet—trips to the park where Riley insisted on holding Matt’s hand the entire time, Cody squealing as Matt pushed him on the baby swing, and Amelia nestled against Matt’s chest in the carrier, tiny fists clutching his shirt. You took pictures, so many pictures—Matt, arms full of all three kids, grinning like the happiest man on earth. Later, when the kids finally napped (miraculously at the same time), Matt wrapped his arms around you on the couch, exhaustion and gratitude soft in his eyes.

“You made today perfect,” he whispered.

“You’re the best dad, Matt. You deserve all of it.”

He smiled against your hair. “I still can’t believe they’re mine.”

You laughed softly. “They’re crazy about you.”

“Yeah,” he said, brushing his thumb over your hand. “I’m pretty crazy about them too.”

taglist : @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos , @ivysturnss , @imsoborediwannadie , @beabadoobeelvur , @moth-feeet , @lezleeferguson-120 , @theowensturniolo , @leahfaith , @nickysturnss , @mattspillowprincess , @mqttsbunnyies , @passionfruitchris , @emely9274 , @riggysworld , @kenah-sturniolo , @hannahsturniolo , @tezzzzzzzz , @kenah-sturniolo , @sturniolo-szn2 , @stayingstromboli , @obsessedwiththesturniolos , @ph3ebssturniolo

MAI’S STORE

not part of the series, i just really love the names

[jibitzlesscrocs]

could you do a blurb or fic of matt being older and reader is like much younger then him and is also super innocent and it’s just like a bunch of different things he had to show/tell her about (sexual or not)

Matt Sturniolo x Youngerinnocent!Reader

warning : none

Teach Me, Matt

in which, innocent!reader learns from matt

Sweet Things

It was such a small thing—just a pastry.

But Matt made it feel like something huge.

“You’ve never had a roll cake?” His voice practically echoed through the tiny corner bakery, like he was announcing your crime to the world.

You bit your lip, suddenly embarrassed. “No. Should I have?”

Matt’s laugh was low and warm, shaking his head like he wasn’t mad—just amused by you. “Should you have?” He leaned forward, eyes glinting. “Pretty girl, you should’ve had at least ten by now. Come here.”

He ordered one without hesitation, handing it to you like it was some sacred thing. You took a careful bite, sweet cream immediately pressing to the corners of your lips. Your eyes lit up. “Oh my God. That’s actually so good.”

“Told you,” Matt hummed, but he wasn’t watching the pastry. He was watching you.

When you went to grab a napkin, his thumb was suddenly there, brushing softly over your bottom lip to wipe away a bit of cream. He didn’t pull back right away. His hand lingered, warm and steady.

“There,” he whispered, his thumb dragging just a little slower than necessary. “Messy girl.”

Your breath caught, your heart stuttering in your chest.

Matt’s grin deepened. “You’re too easy to fluster.”

You tried to recover, but his thumb pressed lightly on your lip again before he finally let go.

“I like being the first to give you sweet things,” he added, voice lower now, like it meant more than just pastries.

And maybe you didn’t fully understand what that meant—yet—but you knew it made your skin tingle in a way you weren’t used to.

⸻

The Driving Lesson

When Matt offered to teach you how to drive his car, you didn’t think it would be like this.

“Relax,” he murmured, hand resting over yours on the gear shift. “You’re too stiff. Just feel it.”

“Easy for you to say,” you muttered, nervous. “You’ve been driving for years.”

“Exactly.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles in slow circles. “That’s why you can trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

Your heart fluttered stupidly in your chest at the weight of his hand over yours, his patience, the way his voice dipped just enough to make your skin buzz.

You stalled the car twice.

Each time, Matt just chuckled, squeezing your thigh reassuringly. “You’re doing great, babe. Don’t panic.”

But every time his hand stayed there—on your leg, warm and heavy—you forgot how to breathe properly, let alone drive.

“Matt, you’re distracting me,” you whispered, your voice embarrassingly shaky.

He smirked, leaning closer so his breath brushed your ear. “Am I? Maybe you need to focus harder, then.”

“Matt—”

“Or maybe,” he teased, his fingers drumming slowly on your thigh, “I’ll just have to pull over and really teach you how to concentrate.”

You squirmed in your seat, unsure if he was joking or not—but the look in his eyes told you he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

⸻

More Than a First Kiss

It happened on a quiet night. You were sprawled across Matt’s bed, the soft hum of music in the background, his cologne still clinging to the air between you.

You were playing with the sleeve of your hoodie when you blurted it out. “I’ve never had… a real kiss before.”

Matt’s head turned instantly. “What do you mean ‘real’?”

“I mean…” You chewed your lip, a little embarrassed now that you’d said it. “Not like… middle school, spin-the-bottle, barely-counts type of thing. I mean a kiss that feels like… something.”

His expression softened, but there was a flicker of something else behind his eyes—something darker, something curious.

“You want me to show you?” His voice dropped, slow and careful, testing.

You nodded. “Yeah. Please.”

Matt sat up, pulling you gently by the waist until you were sitting between his legs, close enough to feel his breathing shift.

“I’ll go slow, okay?”

“Okay.”

His hand cupped your jaw, thumb grazing your cheek, and when he kissed you, it wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t greedy, It was intentional.

Soft at first, just the ghost of his lips brushing yours. You melted into it quickly, chasing the pressure, already needing more.

Matt pulled back barely an inch, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. “See? Not so scary, huh?”

You shook your head, breathless. “Can we… can we keep going?”

His lips twitched into a slow smile. “Yeah, pretty girl. I can keep going.”

This time, when he kissed you, it was deeper—firmer—his hand slipping from your jaw to the back of your neck, holding you there, guiding you into a rhythm that made your head spin. You clutched his hoodie, gasping softly as his tongue just barely teased at your bottom lip, asking you to open up to him.

You did.

You let him lead.

You let him teach you how to move, how to pull him closer, how to sigh into his mouth like you’d wanted this—him—for longer than you’d realized. Matt hummed approvingly against your lips, his other hand gripping your waist to tug you more firmly into his lap. When you finally pulled away, chest tight with the weight of it all, your lips were tingling, your body buzzing, your brain absolutely wrecked in the best way. Matt’s thumb dragged lightly along your swollen bottom lip.

“You’re a fast learner,” he murmured, his voice thick with something that made your stomach twist. “Might need to give you extra lessons though… just to make sure you’ve really got it.”

You could barely speak, but you whispered, “I wouldn’t mind that.”

His grin was slow, teasing. “Didn’t think you would.”

Matt never rushed you. Never made you feel small for what you didn’t know. He just kept finding new things to teach you.

How to drive.

How to kiss.

How to make you blush with just a look.

And you kept letting him. Because being his student?

Yeah… you kinda loved it.

taglist : @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos , @ivysturnss , @imsoborediwannadie , @beabadoobeelvur , @moth-feeet , @lezleeferguson-120 , @theowensturniolo , @leahfaith , @nickysturnss , @mattspillowprincess , @mqttsbunnyies , @passionfruitchris , @emely9274 , @riggysworld , @kenah-sturniolo , @hannahsturniolo , @tezzzzzzzz , @kenah-sturniolo , @sturniolo-szn2 , @stayingstromboli , @obsessedwiththesturniolos , @ph3ebssturniolo

MAI’S STORE

[jibitzlesscrocs]

DAD!MATT STURNIOLO AND CHRIS STURNIOLO FICs

welcome ! this is my new master list for dad!matt and chris!

dads on duty

mommy’s kids

more coming soon !

[jibitzlesscrocs]

Hiii. Could you do a dad!matt and dad!chris one, where it’s like ‘how they’d react to there kid being a…’ so for Matt , he gets jealous because his daughter is a mommy’s girl. And for Chris he gets jealous cause his son is a mommy’s boy? I hope that makes sense. And the babies are like 1 or 2.

warning : none

mommy’s kids

in which, matt and chris never thought their kids would favour their mom more

Matt loves his daughter. So much.

She’s his whole heart. His whole world. His tiny little twin.

But here’s the problem.

She’s obsessed with you.

Like mommy’s #1 fan levels of obsessed.

Matt can be holding her, snuggling her, making her laugh—and the second you walk into the room? She’s twisting in his arms, little chubby hands reaching for you, chanting,

“Mama! Mama! Mama!!”

Matt stands there like 🧍🏻‍♂️ Oh, so I don’t even exist now? Cool.

You try to give him a break—“Come on, baby, give Daddy a hug too!”—but she is laser-focused on you, her little arms wrapping around your neck like he’s not even in the house.

One day, Matt’s sitting on the couch with her in his lap, reading to her, and she wriggles completely out of his hold just to waddle over to you in the kitchen.

Matt: “Are you serious right now? I raised you.”

You (laughing): “She’s one, Matt.”

Matt (pouting): “Yeah, but I’ve literally done everything for her. I change her diapers. I rock her to sleep. I pick out her little socks!”

You: “Sounds like you’re a great dad.”

Matt: “Apparently not great enough.”

He’ll sit on the floor, dramatically pretending to be heartbroken while she clings to your leg, not even noticing his Oscar-worthy sadness.

Later, you catch him bribing her with snacks and toys like,

“Come on, sweet girl. You love Daddy, right? Just—just a little bit? Hug? High five? Anything?”

Spoiler:

She gives him a pity high five and then crawls back into your lap. Matt’s 100% defeated, but also secretly loves that his girls are this close.

Chris thought his son would be his little guy. You know—rough and tumble, goofy, matching sneakers, watching cartoons together.

But no.

Chris Jr. is the biggest mommy’s boy the world has ever seen.

Chris can hold him, bounce him, give him the coolest toys—

But the second you come near? Game over.

Little man’s eyes light up, arms out, tiny voice squeaking,

“Mama! Mama! Mama!”

Chris (offended): “Dude. Really? You were literally just laughing with me.”

You: “He loves you, baby. He just loves me a little more right now.”

Chris: “A little? A little?! He launched himself outta my arms like I was holding a cactus!”

Chris tries everything to win him over.

He’ll offer snacks. He’ll make funny faces. He’ll do the airplane thing.

And his son’s like 🙂 cool story bro, where’s Mom?

One afternoon, you walk into the room and Chris is sprawled on the carpet, defeated, while his son is sitting happily in your lap, cuddled into your chest.

Chris (deadpan): “I guess I’m just the guy who makes his bottles now.”

But deep down?

Chris loves that his son feels so safe with you. He’ll sit next to you both, gently brushing his fingers through his son’s hair, whispering, “Yeah, he’s definitely your boy.”

(But don’t worry—when bedtime rolls around, the little guy only wants Daddy to rock him to sleep. Chris gets his moment.)

taglist: @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos , @ivysturnss , @imsoborediwannadie , @beabadoobeelvur , @moth-feeet , @lezleeferguson-120 , @theowensturniolo , @leahfaith , @nickysturnss , @mattspillowprincess , @mqttsbunnyies , @passionfruitchris , @emely9274 , @riggysworld , @kenah-sturniolo , @hannahsturniolo , @tezzzzzzzz , @kenah-sturniolo , @sturniolo-szn2 , @stayingstromboli , @obsessedwiththesturniolos , @ph3ebssturniolo

MAI’S STORE

i have one more post dedicated to father’s day

[jibitzlesscrocs]

https://www.tumblr.com/jibitzlesscrocs/785769617555685376/httpswwwtumblrcomjibitzlesscrocs783686557731

i meant just the reader and matt no kids

matt is fall

reader is winter

matt sturniolo x reader

warning : none

fall meets winter

in which, matt meets winter reader

Matt isn’t sure when it happens.

When he stops pretending he can resist the pull of you.

When he stops pretending he can keep his season.

You are winter.

Unapologetic. Relentless. And you know it.

And Matt?

He’s willingly getting snowed in.

⸻

It starts with little things.

Your cold fingers slipping under his hoodie when you lean into him on the couch, grinning as he flinches but doesn’t stop you. The way you press your frozen hands to his bare stomach when you crash at his apartment after a late-night walk in the snow.

The way you whisper, “Better warm me up, baby,” against his skin—always soft, always smug.

You know exactly what you’re doing.

And Matt lets you.

⸻

One night, you’re bolder. The snow’s coming down heavy, swirling outside his window in thick curtains. The city’s muffled. Quiet. Soft. But inside, you’re anything but. You pull Matt down onto his couch, straddling him, the layers of your winter clothes peeling away piece by piece—scarf, gloves, heavy coat, until you’re draped in a cozy sweater that’s just a little too long to be accidental.

“Look at you,” you murmur, tilting his chin up, thumb dragging slowly over his bottom lip. “Shivering already?”

“That’s not why I’m shaking,” he growls, hands braced on your hips, fingers flexing like he’s not sure if he should steady you or pull you closer.

Your nails scrape gently through his hair, down to the nape of his neck. “Come on, Matt. Fall’s almost over. Can’t you feel it?” He can. The weight of winter pressing into him, the sharp chill of your touch that somehow burns hotter than fire.

Your lips skim along his jaw, down to his pulse point. “Let me in.”

“You’re already in,” he exhales, head tipping back. But you want more.

Your hands are everywhere, under his hoodie, against his ribs, trailing lower until he’s breathing ragged and his grip on your waist tightens.

“You like the cold,” you whisper, lips brushing his ear. “Say it.”

“I like the cold,” he groans, hips arching up into yours, “when it’s you.”

You hum, satisfied, dragging your tongue slowly up the column of his throat. “Good.”

⸻

The rest of the night blurs—

Wool blankets tangled around your legs, steam rising from forgotten mugs of cider.

Your cold feet pressing against his bare calves as you both sink into the couch, into each other.

His hands slipping beneath your sweater, finding skin, learning every place you’re cold just so he can warm you there.

He kisses you like you’re a fire he’s desperate to start.

You kiss him like you’re a snowstorm he’s already lost in.

⸻

Later, as you lie tangled together, his thumb tracing idle circles on your thigh, he murmurs into your hair, “You always win, huh?”

You grin, lips brushing his collarbone. “Seasonal turnover’s a law of nature, counselor. I didn’t write the rules.”

His chest rumbles with a low laugh. “You sure act like you did.”

You look up at him, soft but smug, fingers gliding along his jaw. “Matt?”

“Yeah?”

“Just wait ’til you see what I do to spring.”

taglist : @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos , @ivysturnss , @imsoborediwannadie , @beabadoobeelvur , @moth-feeet , @lezleeferguson-120 , @theowensturniolo , @leahfaith , @nickysturnss , @mattspillowprincess , @mqttsbunnyies , @passionfruitchris , @emely9274 , @riggysworld , @kenah-sturniolo , @hannahsturniolo , @tezzzzzzzz , @kenah-sturniolo , @sturniolo-szn2 , @stayingstromboli , @obsessedwiththesturniolos , @ph3ebssturniolo

MAI’S STORE

i hope this was what you mean!

[jibitzlesscrocs]

Could you do a single dad chris meets reader and they really hit it off and Chris’ daughter loves reader

singledad!chris sturniolo x reader

warning : none

she likes you

in which, chris and his daughter amelia, meets reader

Chris wasn’t really the type to believe in love at first sight.

But then again, he hadn’t met you yet.

It started on an unusually sunny afternoon in Boston. Chris had taken Amelia to the park—one of those little corner ones tucked into the city where the grass was soft and the noise of traffic faded into bird songs and the occasional bark of someone’s golden retriever.

Amelia, being two and full of unfiltered toddler joy, was already toddling around in her pink sneakers and denim overalls, chasing after a butterfly with the focus of a world-class athlete. Chris trailed behind her, iced coffee in one hand, diaper bag slung over one shoulder. He looked… exhausted. Soft-eyed and hoodie-wearing and clearly trying his best.

And then, there you were.

Sitting on the bench nearby, sunglasses pushed up into your hair, a book resting in your lap, but not really reading. You were watching the butterfly too. And then Amelia. And then, without meaning to, Chris. Your smile was quiet but kind. And when Chris caught your eye, he gave you that classic half-smirk that said I’m a little awkward but I swear I’m nice.

“She’s cute,” you said, nodding toward Amelia as she plopped down in the grass dramatically.

Chris looked over his shoulder. “Thanks. She runs the house.”

You laughed softly, the kind of laugh that made his stomach twist in a weird, warm way. “She looks like she knows it.”

There was a pause, and then Amelia, without warning, stood up, marched straight over to you, and held out a slightly crumpled dandelion with all the ceremony of a knight presenting a sword.

“For you,” she said solemnly.

You blinked, touched your chest, and took it like she’d just handed you the world. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Chris looked stunned. Amelia rarely opened up to strangers that fast—especially not with gifts.

“Wow,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “She doesn’t do that with just anyone.”

“She’s got good instincts,” you replied with a wink.

The three of you ended up spending the next hour together—Amelia sitting between you both on the park bench, babbling about birds and dogs and pointing out clouds that “looked like toast.” You were patient with her, gentle, asking questions like you really wanted to hear her answers. Chris noticed it all. The way you made Amelia laugh. The way you didn’t flinch when she smeared a little juice pouch on your jeans. The way your hand brushed his when you passed her a snack, and neither of you pulled away.

When it was time to leave, Amelia clung to your arm and whispered, “Come with us.” Chris froze. He crouched down to her level, brushing a curl behind her ear.

“Lovebug, you just met her.”

Amelia frowned, then looked up at you. “She’s nice. I want her.”

You chuckled, eyes soft. “I like you too, Amelia.”

Chris stood up slowly, his cheeks pink but his eyes bright. “I, uh… I don’t usually do this, but… do you want to grab coffee sometime? With me. Without the juice and crackers and… whatever that is on your shoe.”

You glanced down and laughed. “That’s totally a Cheerio.”

Chris rubbed the back of his neck. “That tracks.”

You smiled, tucking the dandelion into your bag. “Yeah. I’d like that. But only if Amelia approves.”

Amelia gave an enthusiastic nod and held up a tiny fist.

“Fist bump of approval,” Chris explained, grinning as you bumped it back.

And just like that, something soft and promising bloomed between you—easy and warm and entirely unexpected.

She liked you.

And Chris? He already did too.

taglist: @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos , @ivysturnss , @imsoborediwannadie , @beabadoobeelvur , @moth-feeet , @lezleeferguson-120 , @theowensturniolo , @leahfaith , @nickysturnss , @mattspillowprincess , @mqttsbunnyies , @passionfruitchris , @emely9274 , @riggysworld , @kenah-sturniolo , @hannahsturniolo , @tezzzzzzzz , @kenah-sturniolo , @sturniolo-szn2 , @stayingstromboli , @obsessedwiththesturniolos , @ph3ebssturniolo

MAI’S STORE

heheh i wanna do a father’s day post soooon

[jibitzlesscrocs]

could you do cute single dad matt fluff where his daughter wants her first bra and she’s scared to ask matt for one?? no y/n plsss

dad!matt sturniolo x daughter

warning :none

brave enough

in which, matt’s daughter wants to buy her first bra

Matt always knew there’d come a day when things would start to shift. The coloring books would get left on the shelf more often. Cartoons replaced by music. Stuffed animals slowly traded for earbuds and hoodies and notebooks full of scribbles he wasn’t allowed to read. But nothing really prepared him for it.

Especially not the moment when his daughter, small and quiet and fidgeting with the sleeve of her oversized t-shirt, walked into the living room with a look that stopped him mid-scroll. She stood in the doorway, barely looking up.

“Hey, bug,” he said gently, putting his phone down. “You okay?”

She nodded quickly. Too quickly.

Matt sat up straighter. “Come here.”

She hesitated before padding over to him, climbing onto the couch but sitting on the opposite side like the space between them helped make it easier to say whatever it was she was holding in.

“Did something happen at school?”

She shook her head. Still not meeting his eyes. Her fingers picked at the hem of her shirt.

He waited. Patient, but not pushing.

“I, um…” her voice cracked slightly, then she forced it quieter. “I think I need a bra.”

Matt blinked.

There was a beat of silence.

Then his chest softened immediately. “Okay,” he said gently, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Because it was.

She still wouldn’t look at him. “I didn’t wanna ask. I thought it’d be weird.”

Matt’s heart tugged. “Weird? Bug, nothing about growing up is weird. It’s just new. And it’s okay to need new things.”

She finally looked at him, her eyes watery, lip slightly trembling. “But you don’t know girl stuff.”

Matt smiled at that. “No, I don’t. But I know you. And I know when something matters to you, it matters to me.”

She let out a breath—part relief, part disbelief.

“You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” he repeated, scooting closer. “Sweetheart, I’m proud of you. You were nervous, but you told me anyway. That’s brave.”

She didn’t say anything at first, just curled into his side, pressing her face into his hoodie. He wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head.

“Wanna go tomorrow? We can make a whole thing of it. Get you what you need, then go for smoothies or something.”

She nodded into his chest.

“And you can tell me what to look for—styles, colors, all that stuff. You’re the boss.”

Finally, a small laugh. “I want one with a little flower on it.”

“A flower,” Matt said, grinning. “Noted. The flowerest flower they’ve got.”

She giggled now, and he felt her shoulders relax, tension slipping away like sand through fingers.

Later that night, after she’d gone to bed and the house was quiet, Matt found himself scrolling through articles and videos: “How to support your daughter through puberty,” “first bras for pre-teens,” “dads and daughters: the growing-up talk.” A little lost, but determined to get it right.

Because she’d been brave enough to ask.

And that meant everything.

taglist: @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos , @ivysturnss , @imsoborediwannadie , @beabadoobeelvur , @moth-feeet , @lezleeferguson-120 , @theowensturniolo , @leahfaith , @nickysturnss , @mattspillowprincess , @mqttsbunnyies , @passionfruitchris , @emely9274 , @riggysworld , @kenah-sturniolo , @hannahsturniolo , @tezzzzzzzz , @kenah-sturniolo , @sturniolo-szn2 , @stayingstromboli , @obsessedwiththesturniolos , @ph3ebssturniolo

MAI’S STORE

yooooo it’s been a minute since i’ve posted… i have lots in my drafts just haven’t gotten to the point of posting them…. will do soon!!

[jibitzlesscrocs]

maybe weird request, but can you write something with Matt and virgin reader, where they are making out and she stops him because she wants to wait until marriage, and that it’s making him even crazier about her, and hornier because in his mind that’s hot, but obviously he respects her and reassure her because she is a little worried that he might leave her

matt sturniolo x virgin!reader

warning : references to sex

not yet

in which, reader wants to wait

You were lying underneath him on his bed, half-laughing, half-out of breath, your legs tangled under his, your fingers still knotted in his hoodie as you pulled back from another kiss.

Matt looked wrecked in the prettiest way. His hair was messy, his lips red from kissing you senseless, and his eyes… those stupid blue eyes were locked on your mouth like he was trying to remember how to breathe.

“God,” he whispered, voice low and hoarse. “You keep kissing me like that and I’m gonna lose my mind.”

You gave a nervous laugh and bit your lip, chest rising and falling as you caught your breath. His hand was still at your waist, his other supporting his weight beside your head, and you felt the slow shift in the air… the moment where it could turn into something else.

You loved Matt. That wasn’t even a question anymore. He made you feel seen, wild and safe at the same time. But your heart was pounding now, in that other way, because you knew where this was going if you didn’t say something.

So you did.

“I wanna stop.”

Matt froze immediately — no hesitation, no sigh, no roll of the eyes. His brows pinched slightly, concern flashing over his face.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, fingers still curled in the hem of his shirt. “Yeah. I just… I wanna wait.”

You saw the second it registered. His mouth parted, but he didn’t say anything yet, like he didn’t want to fill the silence with the wrong thing. You swallowed, throat dry.

“I’ve never…” You looked down, heat crawling up your neck. “And I don’t want to until I’m married.”

Matt didn’t move for a second. Then slowly, softly, he leaned back a little to give you space. His eyes searched yours like he was trying to read every word you hadn’t said yet.

“Okay,” he said.

Your heart fluttered, but nerves still twisted in your stomach. “I get it if that’s… a lot. I know that’s not what most people-”

“Hey.” His voice was gentle but firm. “Look at me.”

You did.

“I’m not ‘most people.’” His thumb brushed along your cheek, grounding you. “You think I’m here for sex?”

You blinked. “No, but… it’s not like you haven’t had the option.”

“Yeah,” Matt said, lips quirking just slightly. “But none of them were you.”

You stared at him, and he smiled — crooked and breathless, like you’d just knocked the wind out of him. “You could’ve said you wanted to wait ten years, and I’d still show up for you every day.”

“Besides,” he added, voice dipping as his eyes flicked to your lips again, “you think it’s not hot that you’re saving that part of yourself for someone you really love? You think that doesn’t make me wanna kiss you even more and earn the hell out of that trust?”

You were sure your heart stopped for a full second.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said seriously, forehead resting against yours. “You don’t owe me anything. I’m already yours.”

You felt your eyes sting, but you smiled. “Even if I keep making out with you and then backing out like a scared virgin?”

He grinned, wide and real this time. “Especially if you keep doing that. It’s driving me insane.”

You laughed, and he kissed you again — slower this time, less rushed — and you knew then that this wasn’t about holding him back.

It was about him choosing to meet you where you were.

And that made all the difference.

taglist: @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos , @ivysturnss , @imsoborediwannadie , @emeraldsturns , @beabadoobeelvur , @moth-feeet , @lezleeferguson-120 , @theowensturniolo , @leahfaith , @nickysturnss , @mattspillowprincess , @mqttsbunnyies , @passionfruitchris , @emely9274 , @riggysworld , @kenah-sturniolo , @hannahsturniolo , @tezzzzzzzz , @kenah-sturniolo , @sturniolo-szn2 , @stayingstromboli , @obsessedwiththesturniolos , @ph3ebssturniolo

MAI’S STORE

[jibitzlesscrocs]

can you do a cute single dad chris fluff (his daughter is like 1-2)

chris sturniolo x reader

warning : none

daddy daughter days

in which, it’s the routine of chris and his daughter

It was barely morning when Chris woke up, but the baby monitor was already lit up with soft babbles and sleepy hums.

“Mmhh,” he groaned, dragging a hand across his face before rolling out of bed. He padded down the hall quietly, the wood creaking beneath his socks. As he opened the nursery door, soft sunlight filtered in through the curtains, casting a warm golden glow on the little girl standing in her crib, gripping the rail with tiny fingers.

“Hey, baby girl,” he whispered, voice hoarse with sleep.

Amelia lit up the second she saw him, her curls bouncing as she gave a little squeal of delight. Her onesie was wrinkled, her pacifier had been flung somewhere unknown during the night, and she was bouncing like she had been waiting her whole life just to see her dad’s face again.

Chris picked her up gently, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re up early today,” he mumbled, smiling as she rested her head against his shoulder, her small hand patting his hoodie like she was checking to make sure he was real. He carried her to the kitchen, where Matt was sipping coffee and scrolling on his phone.

“Your niece says good morning,” Chris announced softly.

Matt looked up and immediately smiled. “She’s got that bedhead look down.”

“Runs in the family,” Chris grinned, sitting down with Amelia still clinging to him like a koala.

Nick wandered in a few minutes later, yawning dramatically. “Why is she the only one allowed to look cute at this hour?”

Amelia giggled, reaching for Nick with one outstretched hand. Chris handed her over without hesitation, watching his daughter happily settle into her uncle’s arms.

“She’s already got you both wrapped around her finger,” he said, sipping from the coffee Matt pushed toward him.

Nick shrugged. “What can I say? She’s got good taste.”

The rest of the morning was slow and sweet—music playing softly in the background, the smell of breakfast, Amelia giggling every time Matt made her stuffed bunny “talk,” and Chris watching her with that quiet kind of love only a parent really knows.

She was small. Gentle. Curious.

And Chris loved every second of it—even the messy ones. Especially the quiet ones.

Later, while the house was calm again and Amelia was napping in her crib, Chris leaned against the doorway just watching her breathe. She looked so peaceful, her tiny chest rising and falling with every soft breath, her lashes fanned across her cheeks.

Matt walked by and paused. “You good?”

Chris nodded slowly. “Yeah. I just… I don’t know how something so little can make everything feel so big, you know?”

Matt smiled. “You’re doing good, Chris.”

Chris didn’t look away. “She makes it easy.”

And maybe it wasn’t always easy, but looking at Amelia? it always felt right.

taglist : @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos , @ivysturnss , @imsoborediwannadie , @emeraldsturns , @beabadoobeelvur , @moth-feeet , @lezleeferguson-120 , @theowensturniolo , @leahfaith , @nickysturnss , @mattspillowprincess , @mqttsbunnyies , @passionfruitchris , @emely9274 , @riggysworld , @kenah-sturniolo , @hannahsturniolo , @tezzzzzzzz , @kenah-sturniolo , @sturniolo-szn2 , @stayingstromboli , @obsessedwiththesturniolos

MAI’S STORE

[jibitzlesscrocs]

https://www.tumblr.com/jibitzlesscrocs/783686557731274752/i-loveeee-your-writing-like-genuinely-my-fav

can you do this but winter i love winter so much i hate summer cause i never tan so im pale as booty and i have allergies and i have a skin condition that gets worse in the summer (i hate eczema)

hii, so i was actually wrote a continuation of this fic winter style, so if you prefer this then great but if you still want the winter version of this exact fic then i can write that too! but here is the continuation winter style

matt sturniolo x reader

warning : none

winter baby - fall meets summer (sequel)

in which, fall and summer make a winter baby

The world was frozen.

Outside, the trees were bare, the wind bit at windows, and snow blanketed everything in silence.

Inside, Matt Sturniolo knelt at your feet in the amber glow of firelight, pressing kisses to the underside of your belly like you were the only warmth left in the world.

You were everything winter wasn’t: soft, golden, alive.

But you were carrying his winter baby.

And now he couldn’t stop falling in love with the season that gave him both of you.

⸻

“I always hated January,” Matt whispered, voice low as snowflakes tapped gently at the glass. His palm slid reverently over your belly, feeling the flutter of a kick beneath your skin. “It used to feel empty.”

You sat on the edge of the bed, legs spread slightly to make room for your bump, wearing nothing but one of his flannels unbuttoned at the bottom, the heat of your body meeting the cold of the room like you were built for contrast.

“And now?” you asked, fingers brushing through his hair.

He looked up, pupils blown, lips swollen from kissing you everywhere. He didn’t answer with words. He leaned forward and kissed the curve of your stomach again…slow, full-mouthed, reverent. His nose nudged your skin like he couldn’t get close enough.

“He moves more when it snows,” you whispered.

“I know,” Matt murmured. “He’s a winter boy.”

He dragged his lips lower, resting his cheek against your bump like it anchored him. “He’s frost and fire. Just like you.”

⸻

There was something sacred about the quiet this time of year.

The sound of the wind howling outside. The candle flicker casting dancing shadows across the walls. The way your breath hitched when Matt slipped his cold fingers under the hem of your shirt, spreading wide over your warm skin.

“You’re so soft,” he whispered, eyes locked on your belly. “Like you’re made of snow and honey.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “You say that about every season.”

He smirked, rising to his feet, hands still cupped over your belly. “No. I felt those seasons. But this one—” he kissed your lips slow, deeply, “—I believe in this one.”

⸻

One night, the power went out.

The snowstorm hit hard and fast, and you were already in bed, curled under two quilts, belly heavy with the weight of your son. The room was cold. But Matt lit candles, piled more blankets over you, and climbed in shirtless, pressing his bare chest to your back.

“I’ve got you,” he breathed, slipping his hands beneath your belly, cradling it like it was something holy. “He’s warm, right?”

“He’s cozy,” you whispered, head falling back onto his shoulder. “Kicked like crazy all day. I think he likes the storm.”

Matt chuckled into your skin. “He’s built for this.”

He pressed his lips to the nape of your neck, then your shoulder, then lower, until he was kissing down the slope of your spine through the flannel you wore. His hands never left your belly.

“He’s going to love snow angels,” Matt whispered. “Hot cocoa. Night walks in January. I’m going to give him a childhood full of fireplaces and icicle fights.”

You turned in his arms, pressing your lips to his—soft, deep, a little desperate.

“And he’s going to have a father,” you breathed, “who made winter feel like a love story.”

⸻

When your son was born, it was during a midnight snowfall.

The hospital window glowed white. The world outside was hushed, as if holding its breath.

And when Matt saw him: red-cheeked, tiny fingers curled, snowlight catching in the wisps of his dark hair, he cried without shame.

“He’s…” Matt whispered, looking down at the baby swaddled in powder-blue fleece. “He’s so winter.”

He had your eyes.

Matt sat beside you, pressing a kiss to your temple, then to your forehead, then lower—down the side of your face, over your collarbone, your shoulder. His fingers stroked over the blanket wrapped around your son.

“I used to think winter was lonely,” he said quietly.

You turned your face toward him.

He kissed your lips—slow, searching, sweet.

“But then it gave me you. And now him.”

And the snow kept falling.

And Matt kept loving.

And winter had never felt so alive.

taglist : @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos , @ivysturnss , @imsoborediwannadie , @emeraldsturns , @beabadoobeelvur , @moth-feeet , @lezleeferguson-120 , @theowensturniolo , @leahfaith , @nickysturnss , @mattspillowprincess , @mqttsbunnyies , @passionfruitchris , @emely9274 , @riggysworld , @kenah-sturniolo , @hannahsturniolo , @tezzzzzzzz , @kenah-sturniolo , @sturniolo-szn2 , @stayingstromboli , @obsessedwiththesturniolos

MAI’S STORE

tell me if you want the winter version of fall meets summer instead !

[jibitzlesscrocs]

https://www.tumblr.com/jibitzlesscrocs/783686557731274752/i-loveeee-your-writing-like-genuinely-my-fav

can you do this but winter i love winter so much i hate summer cause i never tan so im pale as booty and i have allergies and i have a skin condition that gets worse in the summer (i hate eczema)

hii, so i was actually wrote a continuation of this fic winter style, so if you prefer this then great but if you still want the winter version of this exact fic then i can write that too! but here is the continuation winter style

matt sturniolo x reader

warning : none

winter baby - fall meets summer (sequel)

in which, fall and summer make a winter baby

The world was frozen.

Outside, the trees were bare, the wind bit at windows, and snow blanketed everything in silence.

Inside, Matt Sturniolo knelt at your feet in the amber glow of firelight, pressing kisses to the underside of your belly like you were the only warmth left in the world.

You were everything winter wasn’t: soft, golden, alive.

But you were carrying his winter baby.

And now he couldn’t stop falling in love with the season that gave him both of you.

⸻

“I always hated January,” Matt whispered, voice low as snowflakes tapped gently at the glass. His palm slid reverently over your belly, feeling the flutter of a kick beneath your skin. “It used to feel empty.”

You sat on the edge of the bed, legs spread slightly to make room for your bump, wearing nothing but one of his flannels unbuttoned at the bottom, the heat of your body meeting the cold of the room like you were built for contrast.

“And now?” you asked, fingers brushing through his hair.

He looked up, pupils blown, lips swollen from kissing you everywhere. He didn’t answer with words. He leaned forward and kissed the curve of your stomach again…slow, full-mouthed, reverent. His nose nudged your skin like he couldn’t get close enough.

“He moves more when it snows,” you whispered.

“I know,” Matt murmured. “He’s a winter boy.”

He dragged his lips lower, resting his cheek against your bump like it anchored him. “He’s frost and fire. Just like you.”

⸻

There was something sacred about the quiet this time of year.

The sound of the wind howling outside. The candle flicker casting dancing shadows across the walls. The way your breath hitched when Matt slipped his cold fingers under the hem of your shirt, spreading wide over your warm skin.

“You’re so soft,” he whispered, eyes locked on your belly. “Like you’re made of snow and honey.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “You say that about every season.”

He smirked, rising to his feet, hands still cupped over your belly. “No. I felt those seasons. But this one—” he kissed your lips slow, deeply, “—I believe in this one.”

⸻

One night, the power went out.

The snowstorm hit hard and fast, and you were already in bed, curled under two quilts, belly heavy with the weight of your son. The room was cold. But Matt lit candles, piled more blankets over you, and climbed in shirtless, pressing his bare chest to your back.

“I’ve got you,” he breathed, slipping his hands beneath your belly, cradling it like it was something holy. “He’s warm, right?”

“He’s cozy,” you whispered, head falling back onto his shoulder. “Kicked like crazy all day. I think he likes the storm.”

Matt chuckled into your skin. “He’s built for this.”

He pressed his lips to the nape of your neck, then your shoulder, then lower, until he was kissing down the slope of your spine through the flannel you wore. His hands never left your belly.

“He’s going to love snow angels,” Matt whispered. “Hot cocoa. Night walks in January. I’m going to give him a childhood full of fireplaces and icicle fights.”

You turned in his arms, pressing your lips to his—soft, deep, a little desperate.

“And he’s going to have a father,” you breathed, “who made winter feel like a love story.”

⸻

When your son was born, it was during a midnight snowfall.

The hospital window glowed white. The world outside was hushed, as if holding its breath.

And when Matt saw him: red-cheeked, tiny fingers curled, snowlight catching in the wisps of his dark hair, he cried without shame.

“He’s…” Matt whispered, looking down at the baby swaddled in powder-blue fleece. “He’s so winter.”

He had your eyes.

Matt sat beside you, pressing a kiss to your temple, then to your forehead, then lower—down the side of your face, over your collarbone, your shoulder. His fingers stroked over the blanket wrapped around your son.

“I used to think winter was lonely,” he said quietly.

You turned your face toward him.

He kissed your lips—slow, searching, sweet.

“But then it gave me you. And now him.”

And the snow kept falling.

And Matt kept loving.

And winter had never felt so alive.

taglist : @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos , @ivysturnss , @imsoborediwannadie , @emeraldsturns , @beabadoobeelvur , @moth-feeet , @lezleeferguson-120 , @theowensturniolo , @leahfaith , @nickysturnss , @mattspillowprincess , @mqttsbunnyies , @passionfruitchris , @emely9274 , @riggysworld , @kenah-sturniolo , @hannahsturniolo , @tezzzzzzzz , @kenah-sturniolo , @sturniolo-szn2 , @stayingstromboli , @obsessedwiththesturniolos

MAI’S STORE

tell me if you want the winter version of fall meets summer instead !

[jibitzlesscrocs]

can you do a pastorsdaughter!reader x matt fic where they have sex in her church’s parking lot? sorry if you’re not comfy w it!

no worries ! this one’s for u

matt sturniolo x pastorsdaughter!reader

warning :smut, p n v, sex near a holy place (don’t read if not comfortable)

not so holy

in which, the pastors daughter gets wrecked in the church’s parking lot

You’re still breathless when he opens the passenger door behind you and nods toward the back seat.

“Get in,” he murmurs, voice low and full of promise.

You hesitate for a second—just one. The church steeple is still watching, glowing in the dark like a reminder. Like guilt. But then Matt’s lips brush the shell of your ear and he adds, “I need to feel you.” That’s all it takes.

You slide into the back seat and he follows close behind, pulling the door shut behind him. The second it clicks shut, the world narrows to just the two of you and the shallow breaths fogging the windows.

He sits back against the seat, legs spread, and looks at you like he’s starved. “C’mere.”

You climb onto his lap, knees digging into the seat on either side of his thighs, your skirt pushed up so far now it’s practically nonexistent. His hands grab your hips like they’re made to fit there, and the moment you sink down to straddle him, you both let out shaky breaths.

His mouth is on yours again—greedy and hot, like he’s trying to memorize the taste of your lips. You grind down without meaning to, and the friction draws a deep groan from his chest.

“God, baby,” he hisses, head falling back against the seat as your hips roll into his. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

You’re already ruining each other.

You tug at his belt, finally undoing it, and he helps you pull his jeans low enough to free him. You freeze for just a second when he springs free—thick, hot, flushed at the tip—and your lips part, uncertain.

Matt watches you carefully. “You okay?”

You nod, but your heart’s racing. “Just… I’ve never seen one in real life.”

He grins, lazy and devilish. “You picked a good first.”

You let out a breathy laugh—and then gasp when his hands slide beneath your panties and drag them down your thighs. He doesn’t rush. He savors, fingers brushing your bare skin like it’s holy.

Once you’re bare for him, he grips your hips and guides you forward, the tip of him brushing your folds.

“Take your time,” he murmurs, lips brushing your neck. “I’ll be good. Promise.”

But he isn’t good. Not even close.

You sink down onto him slowly, and he lets out a guttural sound that punches straight through you. You feel every inch stretch you, fill you, and it’s so much—but not too much. Just enough to make your head spin.

“Oh god,” Matt grits, hands tight on your waist, knuckles white. “You feel like a fucking dream.”

You rest your hands on his shoulders, forehead to his. He lets you set the pace, rocking your hips gently, adjusting to him, and every motion makes you gasp.

It’s not just the heat. It’s the way he looks at you. Like you’re both the sin and the salvation.

“You okay?” he asks again, breath ragged.

You nod, eyes glassy. “Yeah… more than okay.”

You start to move for real then, slow, rolling motions of your hips, building heat with every grind. The car rocks gently beneath you. His hands move from your waist to your thighs, your ass, your back, your breast, thumbing your sensitive nipples, touching everything like he doesn’t want to miss a single inch.

You lean in and kiss him, long and deep, and he groans against your mouth.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he says between kisses. “I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that.”

“Then don’t,” you whisper, voice soft and wrecked. “I want all of it.”

His fingers dig in. His thrusts meet yours, deeper now, harder, until every breath you take is filled with him. It’s clumsy and frantic and perfect.

And when you come, clenching around him, head buried in his neck with a moan you can’t swallow, he follows right after, groaning your name like a curse, like a confession.

You both stay like that for a while: sweaty and dazed, wrapped around each other in the back seat of a car parked under the shadow of your father’s church.

Eventually, Matt strokes your back gently and whispers, “You’re not gonna regret this… are you?”

You lift your head to meet his eyes, still wild, still soft underneath all that rebellion and shake your head.

“I think this is the first thing I’ve ever done that actually felt like mine.”

His lips brush your forehead.

And somewhere above you, the steeple keeps its secrets.

taglist : @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos , @ivysturnss , @imsoborediwannadie , @emeraldsturns , @beabadoobeelvur , @moth-feeet , @lezleeferguson-120 , @theowensturniolo , @leahfaith , @nickysturnss , @mattspillowprincess , @mqttsbunnyies , @passionfruitchris , @emely9274 , @riggysworld , @kenah-sturniolo , @hannahsturniolo , @tezzzzzzzz , @kenah-sturniolo , @sturniolo-szn2 , @stayingstromboli , @obsessedwiththesturniolos

MAI’S STORE

hi im not christian or catholic but i tries to write this based on my knowledge on those so tell me if i made any mistake!!

[jibitzlesscrocs]

hey I just wanted a au of a chubby girl and Matt sturniolo? You could put a twist on it, I just never see any and there so heartwarming to me

of courseeee! here’s one for you and i did another one , my girl, my beautiful girl you can check it out if you want !

matt sturniolo x chubby!reader

warning : none

love on you

in which, matt loves his girlfriend

You’re standing in front of Matt’s mirror, wearing his hoodie and your little black skirt, the hem brushing your thick thighs.

The hoodie hangs a little oversized on you, partly because it’s Matt’s, but partly because you’ve always liked the extra room. Only tonight, you’re not hiding in it. You’re wearing it.

He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, watching you as you fluff your hair and apply a little gloss, and you can feel his eyes on you like a song on repeat.

“You keep staring,” you say, turning slightly over your shoulder with a raised brow.

Matt doesn’t look away. “Can you blame me?”

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you. “I look like a walking playlist from 2006.”

“You look like the main song,” he says, dead serious.

That stops you.

You freeze, lip gloss wand still in hand, heart stumbling over itself at the way he’s looking at you—like your body, your curves, your confidence tonight—it all just knocked the wind out of him.

“I mean it,” he says, standing now, coming up behind you in the mirror. He wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You look like something someone would write about. Like you were made for slow dancing in your room with the windows open.”

You laugh, but it’s soft. Honest. “That’s oddly specific.”

Matt shrugs, kissing your shoulder. “I think about you a lot.”

You lean back into him, eyes still locked with his in the mirror. You don’t flinch when his hands move over your stomach. You don’t pull away when he palms your hips, his fingers spreading wide across the plush softness of them.

Because for the first time in a long time, you don’t want to hide.

Matt makes you feel like every inch of you is worth being seen—touched, even. Admired.

“You used to flinch when I did this,” he murmurs, squeezing your waist just enough to make you grin. “You don’t anymore.”

You nod, looking at yourself in the mirror, messy hair, full figure, glowing skin. You’re not apologizing for any of it.

“I think I finally believe I’m allowed to take up space,” you whisper. “And I think you had something to do with that.”

Matt’s arms tighten around you, and he rests his forehead against your temple.

“You’re not just allowed to take up space, baby,” he says, voice low and reverent. “You own it.”

You turn in his arms, facing him now. He tilts his head and kisses you, slow, open-mouthed, the kind of kiss that makes your knees weak and your heart feel too big for your chest.

“You love me or something?” you tease, when you finally pull back.

He grins, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek. “I think I’m already gone.”

taglist : @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos , @ivysturnss , @imsoborediwannadie , @emeraldsturns , @beabadoobeelvur , @moth-feeet , @lezleeferguson-120 , @theowensturniolo , @leahfaith , @nickysturnss , @mattspillowprincess , @mqttsbunnyies , @passionfruitchris , @emely9274 , @riggysworld , @kenah-sturniolo , @hannahsturniolo , @tezzzzzzzz , @kenah-sturniolo , @sturniolo-szn2 , @stayingstromboli , @obsessedwiththesturniolos

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[jibitzlesscrocs]

can you do a pastorsdaughter!reader x matt fic where they have sex in her church’s parking lot? sorry if you’re not comfy w it!

no worries ! this one’s for u

matt sturniolo x pastorsdaughter!reader

warning :smut, p n v, sex near a holy place (don’t read if not comfortable)

not so holy

in which, the pastors daughter gets wrecked in the church’s parking lot

You’re still breathless when he opens the passenger door behind you and nods toward the back seat.

“Get in,” he murmurs, voice low and full of promise.

You hesitate for a second—just one. The church steeple is still watching, glowing in the dark like a reminder. Like guilt. But then Matt’s lips brush the shell of your ear and he adds, “I need to feel you.” That’s all it takes.

You slide into the back seat and he follows close behind, pulling the door shut behind him. The second it clicks shut, the world narrows to just the two of you and the shallow breaths fogging the windows.

He sits back against the seat, legs spread, and looks at you like he’s starved. “C’mere.”

You climb onto his lap, knees digging into the seat on either side of his thighs, your skirt pushed up so far now it’s practically nonexistent. His hands grab your hips like they’re made to fit there, and the moment you sink down to straddle him, you both let out shaky breaths.

His mouth is on yours again—greedy and hot, like he’s trying to memorize the taste of your lips. You grind down without meaning to, and the friction draws a deep groan from his chest.

“God, baby,” he hisses, head falling back against the seat as your hips roll into his. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

You’re already ruining each other.

You tug at his belt, finally undoing it, and he helps you pull his jeans low enough to free him. You freeze for just a second when he springs free—thick, hot, flushed at the tip—and your lips part, uncertain.

Matt watches you carefully. “You okay?”

You nod, but your heart’s racing. “Just… I’ve never seen one in real life.”

He grins, lazy and devilish. “You picked a good first.”

You let out a breathy laugh—and then gasp when his hands slide beneath your panties and drag them down your thighs. He doesn’t rush. He savors, fingers brushing your bare skin like it’s holy.

Once you’re bare for him, he grips your hips and guides you forward, the tip of him brushing your folds.

“Take your time,” he murmurs, lips brushing your neck. “I’ll be good. Promise.”

But he isn’t good. Not even close.

You sink down onto him slowly, and he lets out a guttural sound that punches straight through you. You feel every inch stretch you, fill you, and it’s so much—but not too much. Just enough to make your head spin.

“Oh god,” Matt grits, hands tight on your waist, knuckles white. “You feel like a fucking dream.”

You rest your hands on his shoulders, forehead to his. He lets you set the pace, rocking your hips gently, adjusting to him, and every motion makes you gasp.

It’s not just the heat. It’s the way he looks at you. Like you’re both the sin and the salvation.

“You okay?” he asks again, breath ragged.

You nod, eyes glassy. “Yeah… more than okay.”

You start to move for real then, slow, rolling motions of your hips, building heat with every grind. The car rocks gently beneath you. His hands move from your waist to your thighs, your ass, your back, your breast, thumbing your sensitive nipples, touching everything like he doesn’t want to miss a single inch.

You lean in and kiss him, long and deep, and he groans against your mouth.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he says between kisses. “I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that.”

“Then don’t,” you whisper, voice soft and wrecked. “I want all of it.”

His fingers dig in. His thrusts meet yours, deeper now, harder, until every breath you take is filled with him. It’s clumsy and frantic and perfect.

And when you come, clenching around him, head buried in his neck with a moan you can’t swallow, he follows right after, groaning your name like a curse, like a confession.

You both stay like that for a while: sweaty and dazed, wrapped around each other in the back seat of a car parked under the shadow of your father’s church.

Eventually, Matt strokes your back gently and whispers, “You’re not gonna regret this… are you?”

You lift your head to meet his eyes, still wild, still soft underneath all that rebellion and shake your head.

“I think this is the first thing I’ve ever done that actually felt like mine.”

His lips brush your forehead.

And somewhere above you, the steeple keeps its secrets.

taglist : @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos , @ivysturnss , @imsoborediwannadie , @emeraldsturns , @beabadoobeelvur , @moth-feeet , @lezleeferguson-120 , @theowensturniolo , @leahfaith , @nickysturnss , @mattspillowprincess , @mqttsbunnyies , @passionfruitchris , @emely9274 , @riggysworld , @kenah-sturniolo , @hannahsturniolo , @tezzzzzzzz , @kenah-sturniolo , @sturniolo-szn2 , @stayingstromboli , @obsessedwiththesturniolos

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hi im not christian or catholic but i tries to write this based on my knowledge on those so tell me if i made any mistake!!

[jibitzlesscrocs]

i really wanted to see chris with a potty training toddler, like his son (he's such a boy dad, sue me) that would be so funny and the kid is like 4/5 years old

chris sturniolo x son x reader

warning : potty training

potty training

in which, chris potty trains his son

“No- wait- pants first, then sit! We’ve been over this, like, five times today.”

Chris’s voice came out tense but borderline amused as he tried to maneuver your son onto his toddler potty without a wardrobe disaster. You stood in the hallway, sipping tea and biting back laughter as you watched your very chaotic four-year-old in nothing but a hoodie and one sock attempt to wrangle himself into position like he was preparing for battle.

“I don’t want to sit,” your son complained dramatically. “I wanna pee standing like Daddy.”

Chris blinked. “Okay, well. That’s a conversation we’ll have after you learn to aim.”

“I can aim.”

“You hit the rug yesterday.”

Your son shrugged, unimpressed with the facts. “That was an accident.”

Chris looked back at you like he was being held hostage. “Babe.”

You grinned and raised your hands. “You said you wanted to be the one to lead potty training.”

“I lied,” he muttered.

Still, he crouched down again, eye level with the little boy now trying to stack bath toys inside the potty like it was a Lego base. “Listen, little man,” Chris said, voice softening, “you do this for real, and I’ll let you pick the music in the car tomorrow. Even if it’s that… that weird animal song.”

“Even the one where the duck screams?”

Chris visibly winced. “…Even that one.”

—

Fifteen very chaotic minutes later

You watched as your son came bolting out of the bathroom at full speed, pants half-up, yelling, “I DID IT! I’M THE BOSS OF PEEING!”

Chris followed behind him, looking disheveled, proud, and exhausted.

“He did it,” he said, rubbing his face. “He actually did it. We’re like… 70% potty trained now.”

You handed your little man a juice box and two Lightning Mcqueen stickers that Chris insisted they bought at target,“You’re a hero.”

“Yes I am, Mommy! Love you!”

You smiled, leaning against the bathroom door as Chris started cleaning up the scene of the victory, the towel on the floor, the potty lid askew, the chaos only a four-year-old boy could leave in his wake.

“He’s so much like you,” you mused.

Chris groaned. “God help us.”

But there was pride in his face too. That quiet, aching kind that came from watching a tiny human he helped make figure something out on their own.

You nudged his arm. “You’re a great dad.”

He looked over at you, eyes soft. “I learned everything by winging it. And swearing under my breath.”

“And Googling things like ‘how to potty train boys without losing your mind,’” you added.

He pointed a finger at you. “That article helped, okay?”

You both laughed, and Chris leaned against the counter beside you. The house was finally quiet again, kid busy with his juice and tablet, the bathroom no longer a battlefield.

You rested a hand lightly on your lower stomach. You didn’t even realize you were doing it until Chris’s eyes flicked down, then back up to your face, curious. Not alarmed. Just… wondering.

You met his gaze, lips twitching into a small smile. “I’ve been kind of nauseous the last couple mornings.”

Chris didn’t say anything for a second, just tilted his head a little, blinking. “Like… nauseous nauseous?”

You nodded once.

His eyebrows slowly raised. “Wait. Are you saying—like, maybe maybe?”

“I don’t know yet,” you said softly. “Could just be stress. Or hormones. Or something I ate. But…”

You let it trail off.

Chris blinked again, trying to wrap his head around it. “…But maybe not.”

Your son’s voice echoed from the living room: “DAD! CAN I PEE AGAIN TO GET MORE STICKERS?!”

Chris looked back toward the hallway. Then back at you.

“…We’re gonna need a bigger bathroom.”

You laughed, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

And in the back of your mind, as your little boy started singing a made-up potty song at full volume… you wondered just how much louder this house might get.

And strangely… the idea felt kind of perfect.

taglist: @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos , @ivysturnss , @imsoborediwannadie , @emeraldsturns , @beabadoobeelvur , @moth-feeet , @lezleeferguson-120 , @theowensturniolo , @leahfaith , @nickysturnss , @mattspillowprincess , @mqttsbunnyies , @passionfruitchris , @emely9274 , @riggysworld , @kenah-sturniolo , @hannahsturniolo , @tezzzzzzzz , @kenah-sturniolo , @sturniolo-szn2 , @stayingstromboli , @obsessedwiththesturniolos

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👀👀