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meg-sturniolo · 1 month ago

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EARNED IT | MATTHEW STURNIOLO. PT.3

read pt. 1 and pt. 2 here

brothersbestfriend!matt x innocent!reader

You're an 18-year-old high school senior, the innocent little sister of Matt's best friend. Which means off-limits in every way.But 22-year-old college hockey player, Matt can't ignore the way you cling to him, asking dangerous questions with trusting eyes. You don't understand the fire you're playing with- but Matt does. And he's burning to teach you what happens when you get too close.

story warnings: fingering in public, talk of religion, lowkey corruption kink (if u squint), brothers best friend, pet names (sweetheart, angel), age gap (four years), etc. all characters are of age. If any of these topics upset you...don't read!

word count: 5k

ib: @ariestrxsh's young god

The glow of morning sun filters through your sheer white curtains. You stir beneath the covers, your body still plagued with sleep, stretching slightly as your fingers blindly search for your phone on your nightstand.

Your screen lights up with unread notifications, but one in particular makes your stomach flip.

Matt.

You rub your eyes, still groggy, and slide on your glasses before clicking on his name. Your heart stutters when you see the unread message- an attachment.

A video.

Your brows furrow as your fingers hover over the screen. Matt never sends you videos. Hell, he rarely ever texts you.

You tap it.

And the moment the video starts playing, you freeze.

The dim glow of the bathroom light casts sharp shadows across Matt’s bare chest, his abs flexing, his head tilted back slightly as he breathes heavily.

Your breath catches.

You don’t understand what you’re watching at first.

His hand is wrapped around himself, moving in long, languid strokes. His muscles tense and flex with every movement, his lips parting slightly as a low, wrecked groan slips past them.

You swallow hard.

His pace picks up, his body shifting slightly, his grip tightening as his head tilts further back, exposing the sharp line of his throat. His abs tighten, his thighs tense, his chest heaving with every ragged breath.

“Fuck, Y/N-”

Your eyes widen, your stomach flipping so hard it makes you dizzy.

That was your name.

He moaned your name.

Your thighs press together instinctively, a warmth curling deep in your belly as the video continues.

You can’t look away.

Matt’s body jerks, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his groans deep, strained, desperate. And then he tenses completely, a sharp, shuddering breath leaving him as his muscles lock tight.

And then- release.

Your face burns, your entire body flushing hot as you watch the final moments. Watch as his hand slows, his stomach slick and messy, his breathing uneven, his body wrecked.

Your fingers tremble slightly as you clutch your phone, your breath short, shallow, confused.

Because you don’t know what you just watched.

But you know it made you feel something.

Something warm.

Something needy.

Your thighs squeeze together again as you stare at the screen, your lips parting slightly as your chest rises and falls unevenly.

Your heart pounds against your ribs as you stare at the screen, completely dazed, your breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts.

Matt had sent you this.

On purpose.

Your body is warm, restless, tingling with something, something you don’t quite understand.

You knew this feeling when you were around Matt and when he would touch you. But you’ve never felt it… by yourself.

Why did he send you that?

Your thighs press together again as your stomach flutters, heat pooling low, spreading through you like something dangerous. You can still hear him. Can still hear the way he moaned your name, the way his breath stuttered, the way his body shook before he-

Your face burns.

Your fingers tighten around your phone as your mind races.

You remember how he made you feel.

Your stomach twists, heat curling low, and before you can think, your free hand drifts lower, ghosting over the hem of your oversized shirt.

Your breath catches as you shift beneath the covers, slowly spreading your legs, mimicking how you had been sitting when Matt was between them the night before.

You don’t know what you’re doing.

But you try anyway.

Your fingers skim down your stomach, light, tentative, tracing the same path his had.

Your breathing hitches when you reach the waistband of your underwear, fingers slipping just beneath, barely brushing over the heat between your thighs.

A soft, startled gasp leaves your lips.

It’s warm.

Wet.

You pause, blinking up at the ceiling, your chest rising and falling in uneven bursts.

That’s what he said, right?

“When you get wet, my dick gets hard.”

You shudder.

Your fingers hesitate, hovering, remembering the way Matt had touched you, the way his nose pressed into you, teasing, flicking, rubbing-

Your stomach tightens as you try to mimic it, pressing the pads of your fingers against the same spot.

Your body jolts.

A soft, breathless whimper escapes before you can stop it, your legs twitching, your thighs clamping slightly before you force yourself to relax.

Your head tilts back against the pillow, your lips parting as you try it again. Slower this time, circling, teasing, just like Matt had.

The sensation is foreign, but intoxicating.

It’s not nearly the same- not as strong, not as overwhelming as when he did it- but it’s good enough.

Your breathing stutters, your body tense, restless, aching.

Your hips shift, pressing into your own touch, trying to chase that unfamiliar pleasure that still lingers from last night.

A soft, helpless moan spills from your lips.

Your entire body locks up.

You slap a hand over your mouth, your face burning, your heart pounding wildly.

Did you just-

Did you just moan?

By yourself?

Your legs press tightly together, heat surging through you as your chest rises and falls in quick, frantic breaths.

You don’t understand what’s happening to you.

But you know one thing for sure.

Matt was right.

It does feel even better than being on fire.

You’re still catching your breath, your body burning, heat thrumming low in your stomach when-

Knock, knock, knock.

Your entire body flinches, legs crossing together out of Instinct.

“Hey! We’re going to church and then out for breakfast before we leave tomorrow. Get dressed!” Your brother’s voice is muffled through the door.

Your eyes widen, panic shooting through you as you scramble to sit up, gripping your sheets with trembling fingers.

“O-okay!” you stammer, your voice too high, too breathless.

There’s a pause.

“…You good?”

Your face burns.

“Yeah!” you blurt, way too fast. “I-I’ll be down in a sec!”

Another pause.

“Alright… just hurry up.”

His footsteps fade down the hall, and you collapse back against your pillows, mortified.

What the hell just happened?

Your phone is still beside you, the screen dimmed but still open to Matt’s text- the video.

Your stomach twists, and you shut your phone off immediately, as if that’ll erase what you just did. As if it’ll make the ache between your thighs disappear.

It doesn’t.

You take a deep breath, willing yourself to calm down, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. You take off your clothes and grab your new ones, slipping into the delicate white floral dress, the soft fabric brushing against your thighs, followed by a light blue knit cardigan that falls loosely around your shoulders. The combination is sweet and innocent and soft.

The opposite of what you had just been doing.

You slide on your usual thigh-high socks before grabbing your coat, bundling up for the cold. A few final touches- light makeup, soft curls in your hair, glasses perched on your nose- and you almost feel normal.

Almost.

You take another steadying breath before stepping out into the hallway and making your way downstairs.

The second you hit the last step, you freeze.

Matt is already there.

And he looks straight out of a magazine cover- navy sweater, loose-fitting light-wash jeans, white sneakers, his hair slightly messy but effortlessly perfect. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, hands in his pockets, looking so casual, so smug, so completely unaware of what he’s doing to you.

Except you know he’s aware.

Because the second his eyes land on you his lips twitch.

His gaze flickers down your frame, slowly, taking in your soft outfit, the way your sweater hangs off your shoulders, the way you can’t even look him in the eye.

His smirk deepens.

You swallow hard, suddenly hyper-aware of everything. The way your body still tingles. The way your cheeks burn just from standing near him. The way your thighs press together on instinct, as if your body remembers everything he made you feel.

And Matt? He knows.

His smirk turns into something wicked, knowing, teasing.

“You get my text?”

Your entire body locks up. Your breath catches, and you snap your eyes up to his, your face burning, heat rushing straight to your cheeks.

“M-Matt,” you hiss, voice barely above a whisper, panicked.

He just grins, tilting his head slightly, leaning in a fraction closer and invading your space.

Your stomach flutters violently.

“What?” he murmurs, so smug, so amused. “Just making sure you saw it.”

You swear your heart is going to stop.

“I-” You fumble over your words, completely flustered, gripping your cardigan tightly in your fingers.

Matt leans in even closer, just enough that his breath brushes your ear.

“Did you enjoy it, angel?”

Your stomach drops. Your thighs press together even tighter, your body betraying you.

C’mon, let’s go!” your brother calls from the front door, already halfway out toward the car. “We’re gonna be late if you two don’t hurry up.”

You jump, your stomach still twisting from the way Matt’s eyes haven’t left you.

You chance one last glance at him, still leaning against the counter, still looking so smug, so entertained by your reaction, before you force yourself to move, tugging your coat around you as you step outside.

The cold air is sharp, stinging your cheeks as you make your way to the car. Your brother is already in the driver’s seat, and you barely register Matt sliding into the back before you’re climbing in as well, pulling the door shut behind you.

Your brother doesn’t seem to make a big deal out of it since his hockey bag was in the passenger seat.

“Dude, you know you could’ve moved it?” He turns back and asks Matt.

Matt simply shrugs and buckles his seatbelt. “Seemed like too much work. Plus I thought we were late.”

Your brother simply nods and turns back, starting the car.

The drive is quiet- at least, for you.

Your brother is rambling about something, half-paying attention to the road, while Matt sits next to you in the back seat, far too relaxed, his arm casually draped over the back of your seat.

You don’t even realize you’ve been fidgeting with your hands in your lap until Matt murmurs under his breath-

“You nervous, angel?”

Your entire body locks up.

Your head snaps toward him, your breath catching in your throat.

“I-” You shake your head quickly, too fast. “No!”

Matt just smirks, his eyes heavy-lidded, unreadable, like he’s playing a game you don’t even understand yet.

You swallow hard, facing forward, ignoring him, ignoring the way your thighs press together again, ignoring the way your body still buzzes from the memory of his video.

Once you arrive at Church, the three of you settle into one of the long wooden pews. The service was already starting, the soft hum of hymns filling the high-arched ceilings. You sit at the end, Matt next to you, your brother on his other side, flipping through the program without much interest.

At first, you try to focus.

You really do.

The preacher’s voice is steady, warm, talking about grace, patience…. temptation.

Your cheeks burn.

You shake the thought away, gripping the hem of your dress, keeping your legs crossed tightly as the choir starts singing.

About halfway through the sermon, your brother shifts in his seat.

You glance over. He’s asleep.

His head is tilted slightly, arms crossed, breathing deep and even.

Matt notices too.

And suddenly the air changes. You feel it before anything even happens.

A shift. A weight. A slow, creeping awareness that has nothing to do with the sermon and everything to do with the warm hand suddenly resting on your thigh.

Your breath stutters but Matt doesn’t look at you. His gaze is still forward, casual, collected, unaffected.

But his hand moves. Slow and oh so deliberate.

His fingers drag up, tracing small, teasing circles just above your knee, making your stomach flip, your skin tingle.

Your grip on your dress tightens. You don’t dare move.

Matt leans in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper, dangerously close to your ear.

“Did you watch it all?”

You turn your head, eyes wide, lips parted in silent shock.

He still doesn’t look at you. His fingers slide higher. Your thighs twitch, a small, helpless movement, but Matt notices.

His lips twitch.

“You did, didn’t you?” he murmurs, his thumb pressing slightly into the soft skin of your inner thigh, just beneath the hem of your dress.

You nod, too flustered to speak.

Matt hums, his voice low, teasing, knowing.

“Did you like it?”

Your face burns. Your fingers dig into the fabric of your dress, desperate for something to hold onto.

Matt’s fingers trace slow, lazy circles, inching up higher and higher.

Your thighs squeeze together, but it only traps his hand between them. Matt exhales a quiet chuckle.

“You’re always trying to hide from me, angel,” he murmurs, the edge of his knuckles brushing against the heat between your thighs. “Don’t you like the way I make you feel?”

You gasp, your breath shaky, your legs trembling.

Matt finally tilts his head toward you, his lips barely an inch from your ear.

“You’re so innocent,” he whispers, voice gravelly, low, sinful. “Did you even know what I was doing to myself in that video?”

Your breath shatters.

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your head shakes, your throat dry, tight, overwhelmed.

Matt chuckles again, his fingers teasing the hem of your dress, ghosting along the edge. “I figured.”

Matt’s fingers trace higher, the heat of his palm pressing against your inner thigh, sending sharp jolts of something warm through your body.

You can barely breathe, your chest rising and falling in short, uneven bursts.

Matt’s posture remains relaxed, unbothered, like he isn’t slowly pushing your boundaries, teasing you in the middle of church, with your brother sitting right beside him- completely unaware.

“So you liked it, didn’t you?” he murmurs, his fingers curling slightly against your skin, a slow drag upward. “You wouldn’t have watched the whole thing if you didn’t.”

Your thighs clench around his hand even tighter, a helpless attempt to control the warmth spreading through you.

A low, quiet chuckle escapes his lips, mocking, teasing.

“Dirty girl,” he whispers, his lips barely brushing the shell of your ear. “Letting me touch you like this-” His fingers drag higher, just under the hem of your dress. “-in church.”

Your entire body tenses, your face burning, your breathing shaky and uneven.

“Matty-”

Your voice comes out as a soft, breathless plea, barely audible.

Matt just smirks.

His fingers slide all the way up, brushing over the soft, bare skin of your hip-

And then he freezes.

You don’t understand at first.

His body goes completely still, his breath hitching, his grip tightening.

And then you realize.

His fingers meet nothing but skin.

No underwear.

Matt’s entire demeanor changes.

His smirk fades.

His breathing deepens and slows.

His fingers twitch against your skin, as if he’s restraining himself from doing something more. Something he’d regret.

A low, almost pained exhale slips from his lips, barely audible over the preacher’s voice.

“Fuck.”

It’s not loud.

But you hear it.

And the way his fingers tighten- how his thumb digs into your thigh, how his grip shakes just slightly- makes your stomach flip.

Matt leans in, his lips brushing just beneath your ear, his voice low, strained, wrecked.

“Angel,” he whispers, his breath heavy. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Your breath catches, your body locking up as Matt’s fingers still against your bare skin.

His grip is tight, his jaw clenched, his entire body tense beside you.

You feel hot all over, burning, heat flooding through you in ways that make your head spin.

“I- I…” Your voice stammers, weak, barely above a whisper. “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t have time- I was rushing, and I was- ”

You cut yourself off.

Your face burns, realization hitting you too late.

Your body betrays you, heat pooling between your thighs, dripping into the space where Matt’s fingers still rest.

His grip tightens, his breath slow, deliberate, dangerous.

His lips brush against the shell of your ear, his voice so low, so dark, so wrecked it makes your entire body shudder.

“You were what, angel?”

You can’t speak. You can’t move. You can only sit there, humiliated, mortified, so unbearably turned on you think you might die.

Matt leans in closer, closer, his nose brushing against your cheek, his lips barely grazing your skin.

“Tell me,” he whispers, mocking, teasing, his fingers dragging over your hip, pressing into your thigh.

“What were you doing… that made you get ready without any panties?”

You whimper, your legs shaking, your body betraying you again.

A slow, wicked chuckle rumbles from Matt’s chest, his fingers tightening, gripping, holding you in place as he feels the way you react to him.

Matt’s fingers stay still, his grip tight against your bare thigh, his breath slow and deliberate against your ear.

You feel trapped.

Not because you want to get away- because you don’t. Because you can’t. Because every teasing brush of his fingers against your skin sends a new wave of warmth flooding through you, pooling deep in your stomach, making it hard to breathe.

“You were what, sweetheart?”

His voice is low, dark, dripping with something dangerous.

You swallow, your throat dry, your body trembling beneath his touch.

“I- I was just- ”

Your breath shudders, your thoughts scatter, your hands gripping the hem of your dress tightly, twisting the fabric in your fists.

Matt’s lips twitch.

“That’s not an answer.”

His fingers move.

Just the slightest shift- his knuckles brushing higher, teasing the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

You whimper.

It’s quiet, barely audible over the preacher’s voice, but Matt hears it.

His grip tightens, his thumb pressing into your skin, his head tilting slightly as he watches you- studying you, unraveling you.

“You were what?” he repeats, his voice rougher, more demanding now.

Your thighs clench together again instinctively and you let out a whimper as it traps his knuckles right against your slit.

Matt exhales a quiet, mocking chuckle.

“You’re making this too easy for me, angel.”

Your body jerks, your breath hitching sharply, your entire face burning.

“I- I was- ”

You squeeze your eyes shut, your heart pounding, pounding, pounding.

But Matt won’t let up.

His thumb drags slow, lazy circles against your thigh, and his other hand- the one not ruining you beneath your dress- grips your chin, forcing you to face him.

Your eyes flutter open, and Matt’s gaze is already waiting for you.

“Say it.”

Your lips part, but no sound comes out, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your pulse hammering in your throat.

Matt’s fingers press into your thigh, gripping firmly.

His voice drops lower, almost a whisper.

“Tell me what you were doing.”

Your entire body is trembling, the heat between your legs growing unbearable, your skin burning under his touch.

And when his fingers shift just a little higher, his knuckles grazing so, so close-

It breaks you.

“I- I was watching your video and trying to… touch myself.”

The confession spills from your lips in a shaky breath, your entire body going still the second you say it.

Matt does too.

For a moment, he just stares at you, his jaw tight, tense, his chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths.

Then, his lips part slightly, and he smirks.

“Good girl.”

And then his fingers move again.

You watch him carefully, your breath shaky, your fingers still gripping the hem of your dress like it’s the only thing grounding you.

Matt exhales a quiet chuckle, his other hand still gripping your chin, tilting your face toward him, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek.

“You’re so tense, angel,” he muses, his fingers skimming the soft, warm skin between your thighs.

Your breath shudders, your entire body on fire, heat pooling low, twisting into something thicker, heavier.

His thumb teases the hem of your dress, dragging the fabric up just slightly- just enough to make you gasp, your body trembling beneath his touch.

He leans in, his breath warm against your ear, his voice low, dripping with amusement.

“Are you shaking, sweetheart?”

You are. And he knows it.

Your thighs twitch, your body helplessly reacting to every slow, torturous movement.

His fingers finally, finally meet the heat between your legs, just barely, the lightest brush-

You suck in a breath, your hands gripping his wrist instinctively, unsure if you’re trying to stop him or pull him closer.

Matt hums, his lips tilting into a smirk.

His fingers press, just the slightest amount of pressure, just enough to make your stomach tighten, your breath hitch, your body betray you.

A soft, mocking laugh.

“You’re already so wet for me, angel.”

Your face burns, humiliation and something deeper, needier curling in your stomach, spreading everywhere.

Matt’s fingers press more firmly against the heat between your thighs, his touch still light, still teasing, but undeniably there.

His hand is warm, his fingertips tracing slow, lazy circles, barely touching, barely giving you anything- but just enough to make your thighs tremble, your breath shudder against the still air of the church.

His other hand stays firm on your chin, keeping your face tilted toward him, forcing you to feel every shift of his breath against your skin.

His movements are painfully slow, his fingers pressing against the soft skin at the apex of your thighs, feeling the warmth seeping through.

His breath stutters.

His fingers shift.

A slow, testing drag.

His hand moves again, his fingers spreading, cupping, pressing the warmth of his palm flush against you.

His lips brush the curve of your jaw, his voice low, gravelly, wrecked.

“You make me crazy,” he murmurs, his thumb stroking the inside of your thigh.

His fingers flex, pressing a little harder, feeling the heat there, feeling how much you need him.

His breathing shudders, his chest rising and falling in measured, controlled movements- but his fingers are anything but controlled.

Another slow, torturous drag.

His thumb presses down, tracing a slow circle through the warmth, feeling the way your body reacts to him, melts into him, gives into him.

He chuckles, deep, quiet, mocking.

“You like this, don’t you? Touching you in front of everyone?”

His hand stays, fingers taunting, teasing, his other hand finally leaving your chin, moving to rest on your thigh, spreading you wider.

His mouth hovers just over your ear, his breath heavy, his voice darker now, heavier, raw.

“Tell me how much you like it, angel.”

Matt’s fingers never stop moving.

His thumb circles and presses and teases your clit. His other hand holding you firmly in place, keeping your thighs from snapping shut around his wrist.

Your body betrays you, hips tilting forward, chasing the friction, desperate for more.

His lips curl into a smirk, his thumb pressing down just right, rubbing slow, taunting circles against that one spot that makes your thighs tremble.

“You’re so sensitive, angel,” he murmurs, his voice low, teasing, his breath hot against your skin.

Your breath stutters, your fingers gripping the hem of your dress, your knuckles turning white as you try and hold back sound.

Matt watches you closely, his lips brushing your jaw, his fingers picking up the pace, pressing just a little firmer, a little faster.

Your body tenses, warmth coiling, tightening, a pressure building so quickly it makes your breath catch, shudder.

Matt chuckles, his grip tightening.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he murmurs, his fingers never stopping.

Your thighs shake, your breath hiccups, your body arching slightly, the heat curling tighter, tighter-

Matt leans in, his voice rough, knowing, taunting.

“Let go, angel,” he whispers. “I know you want to.”

He presses down just right.

The pressure snaps.

Your body shatters, warmth crashing over you all at once, waves of heat and pleasure rolling through you, your thighs trembling, shaking, squeezing around his wrist as your breath catches, breaks, shudders.

Matt doesn’t move away.

He stays right there, his fingers easing you through it, his breath steady, controlled, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as a satisfied smirk pulls at his mouth.

“There you go,” he murmurs, his thumb stroking one last slow, teasing circle before finally pulling away.

His fingers slide back to your thigh, squeezing gently.

His lips press a soft, slow kiss against your cheek.

Matt pulls his hand away, his smug smirk growing as he watches your chest rise and fall in uneven bursts.

His eyes drop to your dress.

And his smirk vanishes.

His pupils darken, his jaw tightening as he takes in the mess.

The fabric is damp, sticking slightly to your thighs, the evidence of what he just did to you clear, visible, undeniable.

His fingers twitch, his entire demeanor shifting as something darker, something possessive, flickers behind his gaze.

A deep, low groan. “Fuck, angel.”

Your face burns.

Your hands fly to your lap, trying to cover it, trying to hide the humiliating proof of your pleasure, but Matt doesn’t let you.

He catches your wrist easily, effortlessly, his grip firm but gentle, his thumb stroking the inside of your wrist.

Your breath stutters.

Your legs press together instinctively, your whole body burning, humiliated, mortified.

“Matt- ” you whisper, your voice barely audible, shaky, wrecked.

He hums, pleased, amused.

Then, before you can protest, he guides your hand down, pressing your palm firmly over the thick, hard evidence straining against the denim of his jeans.

Your fingers twitch, feeling the heat, the thickness, the length, the way he’s pulsing under your touch.

Matt groans again, low, raspy, wrecked. “This is what you do to me, sweetheart.”

His fingers flex over yours, pressing your palm more firmly against him, letting you feel everything.

Your stomach flips violently all over again, your thighs clenching, your fingers trembling.

Matt smirks, tilting his head, watching you unravel.

“Made such a mess of yourself,” he murmurs, his voice mocking, taunting, dripping with amusement. “Right here in church.”

Your face burns hotter, your fingers twitching in his grasp.

Matt leans in, his lips brushing softly against your temple, the contrast between his filthy words and his gentle touch making your stomach turn inside out.

“Such a dirty, dirty girl,” he whispers, his voice low, thick, knowing. “Letting me touch you like this, letting yourself fall apart for me like that.”

His thumb strokes your wrist, his voice turning softer, more dangerous. “And you loved every second of it, didn’t you?”

Your lips part, trembling, lost, breathless. Matt just smirks against your skin, kissing your temple again- slower this time, softer.

His fingers squeeze over yours, still pressed against him, still feeling the proof of how much he wants you.

His breath is steady, controlled- but his body isn’t. He’s aching for more. But for now? He’s going to make sure you feel every second of what just happened.

Your chest tightens, your breath coming in short, shaky bursts as the reality of what just happened hits you all at once.

The mess in your dress, the evidence of everything Matt just did to you, is obvious, the fabric damp and clinging to your thighs, completely undeniable.

You have to stand up soon. Everyone will see.

You swallow hard, your fingers gripping Matt’s sleeve as your eyes sting, your vision blurring slightly.

Matt just watches you, his gaze dark, unreadable, amused.

Then, when he sees the way your lips tremble, the way your wide, doe eyes gloss over, the way a single tear slips down your cheek in quiet humiliation- He smiles.

Not to mock you.

But because he’s in pure disbelief over how innocent you are, how sweet you look even after everything he just did to you.

He exhales softly, shaking his head, still so incredibly turned on.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

His voice is softer now, soothing, teasing, but gentle.

He cups your jaw, his thumb wiping away the stray tear, his fingers lingering against your cheek.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, voice low, warm, steady. “I’ll take care of you.”

Before you can say anything, Matt pulls back, slipping off his navy sweater, leaving him in just the button-down underneath.

He hands it to you, the fabric still warm from his body.

“Put this on.”

You hesitate for a second, still trembling, still overwhelmed, before you quickly slip it on, pulling it down over your dress.

It falls past your waist, completely covering the mess.

You exhale shakily, your fingers clutching the sleeves, the heavy fabric smelling like him, calming you just slightly.

Matt watches you closely, his gaze dark and pleased, his lips still twitching with amusement as the sermon finally ends.

He nudges your brother awake, grinning when he grunts and blinks groggily.

“Dude, service is over,” Matt says, leaning back, his voice casual, easy, like nothing just happened. Like he didn’t just have you crumbling beneath his fingertips only a couple feet away from him.

Your brother stretches, yawns, rubbing his face before standing up, completely unaware of everything.

You hesitate for just a second before following, your legs still weak, wobbly, unsteady.

Matt stays close, his hand hovering near your back, watching you with pure satisfaction as you walk ahead of him.

The moment you climb into the car, settling into the backseat with Matt, your brother turns in the driver’s seat, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“…Why the fuck are you wearing Matt’s sweater?”

Your stomach drops, heat flooding your face. Your fingers tighten around the fabric, pulling it closer as you struggle for an answer.

Matt just leans back in the seat, smirking, completely unbothered. “She was cold,” he says easily.

Your brother squints, clearly suspicious, but doesn’t say anything- until his gaze drops lower.

His brows furrow. His lips part slightly in confusion.

“…What the hell?”

You freeze. Your entire body locks up. Because he’s looking at your dress. The part of it that isn’t fully covered by Matt’s sweater. The part that still has a very visible, very obvious wet spot.

Your face burns red, panic rising in your throat, but before you can react-

Matt laughs, reaching out to shove your head playfully, pushing you against his shoulder in a way that makes it seem like nothing.

“She spilled water on herself,” he says easily, completely effortless in his lie. “You know how much of an airhead she can be.”

Then, grinning, he pulls at the edge of the sweater.

“And she was freezing.”

Your brother blinks, glancing at you, still confused.

You nod quickly, going along with it.

“Y-yeah,” you stammer, forcing a weak smile. “I just- spilled water. It’s fine.”

Your brother just shrugs, turning back to the wheel.

Matt smirks. And when your brother isn’t looking he leans in, his lips brushing your temple, his breath warm against your skin.

“Close one, huh?” he whispers, just for you to hear.

Your stomach flips violently.

Matt just grins.

After getting home, lunch is uneventful. Your brother talks about hockey, your dad chimes in occasionally, and Matt sits across from you, watching.

You can’t even look at him.

Every time your eyes flicker to his, his smirk deepens, his knee bumping against yours under the table.

So, the second you finish eating, you excuse yourself, practically rushing up to your room.

You slip out of your dress, peeling away the evidence of what happened in church, and quickly pull on something more casual, more safe- a soft white camisole, paired with tiny sleep shorts, delicate lace tracing the edges, still innocent, still sweet- but dangerous in a whole different way.

You sit on your bed, exhaling slowly, trying to breathe, process, forget-

A loud curse echoes from downstairs.

“FUCK!”

You jump, blinking, listening as your brother’s voice booms through the house.

“I broke my fucking stick,” he grumbles, his voice frustrated, stressed. “I need it for tomorrow. I meant to grab another at the banquet, but I forgot.”

You hear Matt’s voice next, casual, lazy, so unbothered compared to your brother’s stress.

“Damn,” Matt mutters.

Your brother groans. “The only store that sells the right ones is two hours away.”

A beat of silence.

“Dude,” your brother huffs. “That means I’m gonna be gone for like four hours.”

Matt whistles lowly, like he’s amused.

“Brutal.”

A pause.

“Matt, come with me,” your brother says suddenly.

Matt laughs under his breath. “Yeah, I’d go, man, but I’ve got homework due when we get back.”

“Dude,” your brother groans. “Come on.”

“I’m serious,” Matt chuckles, still casual, easy. “I really gotta finish it before tomorrow.”

“Fine,” your brother grumbles. “I’ll bring my dad. We’ll be back in like four, five hours.”

The front door slams shut.

Silence.

The air shifts.

Something changes.

You sit up slowly, your stomach twisting as you hear footsteps near your door.

Then,

A knock.

PART 4 OUT NOW!! CHECK MASTERLIST

for @mattsobvimyfav 💙

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meg-sturniolo · 1 month ago

Text

EARNED IT | MATTHEW STURNIOLO PT.2

read part one here

brothersbestfriend!matt x innocent!reader

You're an 18-year-old high school senior, the innocent little sister of Matt's best friend. Which means off-limits in every way. But 22-year-old college hockey player, Matt can't ignore the way you cling to him, asking dangerous questions with trusting eyes. You don't understand the fire you're playing with- but Matt does. And he's burning to teach you what happens when you get too close.

story warnings: oral (fem reviving), masterbation, lowkey corruption kink (if u squint), brothers best friend, pet names (sweetheart, angel), age gap (four years), etc. all characters are of age. If any of these topics upset you...don't read!

word count: 6k

ib: @ariestrxsh ‘s young god

You pause in the doorway, your breath catching at his words. Earn it? Your stomach twists. Matt watches you with that lazy, knowing smirk that makes your skin itch.

Your fingers tighten on the doorframe. “How do I… earn it?”

Matt’s smirk deepens. He steps forward, closing the space between you just enough to make your pulse stutter. His hand lifts, fingers brushing your jaw, barely touching but enough to make you feel dizzy.

“You’ll know,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing. “When you deserve it, I’ll give it to you.”

Your breath shudders, heat crawling up your spine. You don’t even know what you’re asking for but the way he’s looking at you, the way your entire body is reacting, makes you desperate to find out.

You swallow hard, shifting on your feet. “But-”

Matt just chuckles, shaking his head as he backs away, hands sliding into the pockets of his grey sweatpants. You look down. His arousal is gone now, or at least, hidden well enough that he’s in control again. Unlike you.

“Go to bed, sweetheart.”

His voice is final, dismissive, like he’s already won whatever game you didn’t realize you were playing.

You bite your lip, hesitating for just a second longer before turning on shaky legs, stepping out into the hallway and returning to your room.

The next morning you try to act like nothing happened, but the moment you step into the kitchen and see Matt leaning against the counter, coffee in hand, wearing that damn fitted black tank top and grey sweatpants again, you feel your entire body react.

His gaze flicks to you immediately.

He notices the way you freeze.

The way your thighs instinctively press together.

The way your lips part slightly, like you’re remembering exactly what they felt like against his.

He smirks. Like he knows. Like he owns every single thought running through your head.

Your brother, completely oblivious, slaps Matt on the back as he walks past. “Dude, you good? You look like you slept like shit.”

Matt huffs a quiet laugh, eyes still locked onto yours and that’s when you finally notice the deep purple eyebags under his eyes. He always had eyebags, but your brother was right. These looked worse.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, taking a slow sip of coffee. “Didn’t get much sleep. Mind was elsewhere.”

Your breath catches.

Your brother shrugs, already grabbing cereal from the cabinet. “I told you not to stay up. We gotta commute back to campus tomorrow morning. We only got today to get our sleep schedule back in check.”

Matt exhales through his nose, shaking his head slightly.

“Yeah,” he mutters, his smirk growing as he watches you shift on your feet, still burning under his gaze.

You sit at the kitchen table, trying so hard to act normal, to pretend that your body doesn’t still burn from last night. But it’s impossible when Matt keeps looking at you like that- like he knows exactly what you’re thinking, exactly what your body still craves.

“What the fuck?!”

Your brother’s sharp voice shatters the illusion, making you flinch. Your eyes snap to him just as he’s stepping closer, his expression twisted in disbelief, his gaze locked onto you.

No- your neck.

Your stomach plummets.

His eyes widen, his jaw tightening as he glares at the unmistakable mark just beneath your jawline. The dark, deep, evidence of everything you were trying to keep secret.

Panic floods you.

“I-”

“Who the fuck did this?” His voice is sharp, angry, his fists clenching at his sides.

You freeze, heart hammering, throat dry. You can’t say Matt.

Matt is right there.

Standing beside you, silent. His expression unreadable. He’s watching you, waiting- not stepping in, not making excuses, just waiting to see what you’ll do.

You scramble for something- anything- to say, but before you can, your brother scoffs, his lip curling in disgust.

“You kidding me right now?” His voice is lower now, sharp with anger. “You know who gets hickeys?” He takes a step closer, voice cold “Sluts.”

Your stomach drops.

Heat rushes to your face- not from embarrassment, but from humiliation. You shake your head quickly, trying to explain, but nothing comes out.

Matt stiffens beside you.

“Yo,” his voice is calm but firm, cutting through the tension like a blade. “Lay off, dude”

Your brother whips his head toward him, eyes blazing. “Excuse me?”

Matt crosses his arms, jaw tight. “She’s eighteen now, man. She can make her own decisions.”

Your brother laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Oh, fuck off with that bullshit, Matt. That’s still my sister.” His glare snaps back to you. “And you? You let some random asshole mark you up like that?”

You flinch, your breath shuddering. “I-”

“You have no fucking self-respect, do you?”

Your throat tightens, burns. Your hands tremble as you grip the table, heat stinging behind your eyes. You feel exposed, humiliated, like a child being scolded for something you barely even understand.

Matt’s jaw flexes, his fists clenching at his sides. His whole body tenses, like he’s barely keeping himself in check. But he still doesn’t step in. Not unless you decide you want him to.

Because this is your secret to tell.

Your brother scoffs again, shaking his head. “Fucking pathetic.”

Your chair scrapes loudly against the floor as you shove yourself up, your vision blurring. “Fuck you.” Your voice cracks, half anger, half tears, but you don’t care.

You turn on your heel and storm out.

You hear Matt curse under his breath, hear your brother mutter something, but you don’t stop. You run down the hall, slamming your door shut behind you before collapsing onto your bed, pressing your face into your pillow as hot, embarrassed tears spill down your cheeks.

It was late now. Almost midnight- maybe even one in the morning. You’ve barely moved from your bed since breakfast, too embarrassed, too humiliated to face anyone, especially Matt.

He didn’t do anything wrong. He didn’t defend you the way you wished, but he also didn’t throw you under the bus. He let you decide whether or not to reveal what happened. But still some part of it was just so embarrassing.

The house is quiet, everyone already in bed. You shift under the covers, your oversized t-shirt sliding against your bare skin, your thigh-high socks still hugging your legs, providing some comfort.

The door creaks open.

A dark figure slips inside, moving carefully, deliberately. The door shuts again with a soft click and you hear the lock slide shortly after.

Your heart stammers, your stomach flipping as the shadow moves closer, the dim light from the hallway illuminating just enough of his face.

Matt.

You sit up quickly, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, your voice a hushed whisper. “Matt?”

“Shhh,” he murmurs, his voice low, soothing.

Your pulse races as he steps closer…. closer…. until he’s right in front of you.

He drops to his knees.

Your breath stutters.

He’s kneeling in front of you, his broad hands and long fingers resting on your thighs, his eyes flickering up to yours, dark and unreadable.

Your lips part, confusion swirling in your chest. “What are you-”

“I’m sorry.”

His voice is soft, rough around the edges, like he’s been holding onto the words all day. His hands squeeze your thighs gently, his gaze never leaving yours.

“For what?” you murmur, genuinely confused.

“For leaving marks,” he says, his fingers tracing lightly over the sensitive skin of your thighs. “I wasn’t thinking.”

You blink, still dazed. “I- I didn’t even know they were there.”

Matt exhales sharply, his jaw clenching.

“I don’t even really know what hickeys are,” you admit, your voice small, unsure.

His lips part slightly, his brows drawing together like your innocence physically pains him. Then, slowly, he drops his forehead onto your thighs, his warm breath fanning over your skin.

“I’m still sorry,” he murmurs, voice muffled against your legs. “It’s my fault.”

Your stomach flutters, your fingers twitching at your sides. You should probably be upset. But all you can focus on is the weight of his head resting against your thighs, the way his hands grip you so gently, as if he’s afraid to hold you too tight.

“It… didn’t hurt or anything,” you murmur.

Matt huffs a quiet laugh against your skin, his breath hot against your bare legs. “That’s not the point, angel.”

There’s a pause, heavy, thick with something you don’t understand.

“What did it feel like?”

Your fingers twitch where they rest against the sheets, your legs pressing together slightly on instinct. You weren’t expecting that question.

“I…. I don’t know,” you stammer, heat creeping up your neck.

Matt lifts his head slightly, his dark eyes flickering up to yours, waiting. “Yes, you do,” he murmurs.

You exhale shakily, your entire body buzzing. You hesitate, then admit, “It… felt like it did yesterday.”

Matt’s gaze sharpens. His fingers flex against your thighs, his grip tightening just slightly. “And what was that?”

Your lips part, but the words won’t come. You’re too flustered, too hot, your thighs squeezing together again as the memory of last night floods your mind.

Matt just watches you.

“Warm,” you whisper, barely audible. “And… and needy.”

His jaw clenches, his fingers sliding higher.

“Where?”

You suck in a breath, unable to say it, so instead, you let your gaze flicker downward. Down to where his hands are still crawling up your thighs, where the warmth is building again, pulsing, aching.

Matt follows your gaze, and when he looks back up at you, his expression changes.

He moves slowly and lowers his head, his breath warm as his lips graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Your fingers dig into the sheets, your stomach flipping, your entire body locking up as he keeps going.

Lower.

Until his nose brushes the soft crevice between your thighs, his face pressing directly against the heat radiating from your core.

Your breath shatters.

Matt doesn’t move.

Doesn’t speak.

Just stays there.

Breathing you in.

Letting you feel it.

Your entire body tenses, frozen in place, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps. His hands tighten on your thighs, keeping you right where he wants you.

He does nothing. Just lets the weight of his presence sink into you. Like he’s claiming you. Without even touching you.

Matt stays still for a moment, just breathing against you, the warmth of his face pressing into the heat radiating from your core. His grip on your thighs tightens, and then slowly he nuzzles his head deeper, his nose pressing against the soft, sensitive space between your legs.

A soft, strained groan rumbles from his chest, vibrating against your skin.

Your entire body jolts, a sharp gasp ripping from your lips as your back arches involuntarily, your fingers gripping the sheets for something to ground you.

“Matt…” your voice comes out breathy, shaking. “Why are you… putting your head… there?”

He doesn’t answer.

Not at first.

He just stays there, pressed against you, breathing you in like he needs it, like the heat between your thighs is suffocating him but he still wants more.

Slowly, he lifts his head.

His pupils are blown, dark and hungry, his cheeks flushed, lips parted slightly as his gaze locks onto yours. His breath is heavy, his chest rising and falling like he’s trying to control himself but he can’t.

His voice is thick, strained.

“Because it doesn’t just make me feel warm and needy.” His grip on you tightens, his jaw clenching. “No… it makes me feel even better than on fire.”

Your lips part, your stomach twisting. “Even better than on fire?”

Matt exhales sharply, his eyes flickering down, back to where his face had just been.

Then without hesitation he drops his head again, his nose pressing into you even firmer this time. His arms slide around you, wrapping around your lower back, his hands gripping your thighs, pulling you closer against his face like he needs to feel you.

You let out a small, shaky whimper as your body jerks forward, pressing even more against him.

Matt groans again, his fingers digging into your skin, his breath hot against you.

“Yes,” he rasps, voice muffled against your thighs. “Even better than on fire.”

Matt stays pressed against you, his warm breath fanning over the sensitive heat between your thighs. His grip tightens on your hips, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh as he pulls you impossibly closer.

And then he pushes his nose deeper.

A sharp, unexpected shock runs through you as he nudges against something sensitive, something that makes your entire body jerk. A moan slips past your lips before you can stop it- a high, breathy, and completely foreign to your own ears. Just like the sound yesterday but even worse.

Your eyes widen immediately, a gasp catching in your throat as you slap a hand over your mouth. Your body tenses, heat flooding every inch of your skin.

“Matty-” your voice is shaky, breathless. “What was that?”

Matt stays still, his nose still buried between your thighs, his breath slow and deliberate as he exhales against the damp fabric of your underwear. When he finally pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression is unreadable.

“What?” he murmurs, his voice low, teasing.

Before you can respond, he does it again.

Another press of his nose, deliberate and slow, right against that same spot.

Your entire body twitches. Your back arches slightly, another sound escaping your throat, softer this time- more desperate.

“That,” you gasp, your fingers clutching at the sheets beneath you, your head tilting back slightly. “That feels really…”

You trail off, your face burning, your breathing uneven as you struggle to even form the words.

Matt watches you carefully, his lips parting slightly, his jaw tight as he exhales through his nose. Then, he leans in again, pressing another slow, intentional nudge against that same spot.

“That’s a spot on girls,” he murmurs against you, his breath hot through the fabric. “It helps you feel really, really good.” His thumbs rub soothing circles into your hips. “Do you feel good when I do that?”

You whimper, the sound soft and helpless as your hands instinctively fly to his hair, your fingers gripping the strands without thinking. Your thighs tremble slightly around his head as another rush of warmth pools deep in your stomach.

A shaky breath leaves your lips as you barely manage to whisper-

“…Yes.”

Matt watches you carefully, his breathing slow and controlled despite the tension crackling between you like fire. His hands, still gripping your thighs, slowly slide up, slipping beneath the oversized t-shirt hanging loosely over your frame. His palms are warm against your bare skin, fingertips tracing soft, teasing patterns as he pushes the fabric up, exposing more of you to him.

“You want me to keep goin’, angel?” His voice is low, rough, thick with something dangerous.

You don’t trust your voice, so you just nod.

Without thinking you press your fingers deeper into his hair, giving the slightest push, an unconscious plea.

His pupils darken instantly, his lips parting as a low groan escapes him. But it’s not just that. It’s the way your thighs instinctively spread wider, granting him more access without even realizing it.

“Fuck,” Matt breathes, his grip tightening on your hips for a moment before he leans back in.

The first press of his nose is slow, testing, just like before.

And then- he flicks it.

A sharp, teasing nudge directly against that sensitive spot.

Your entire body jerks, a gasp breaking from your lips, your thighs twitching around his head. But Matt doesn’t stop. No, he keeps doing it. Slow at first as always, up and down, teasing motions that make your breath stutter and your grip in his hair tighten.

Then he groans. Low, deep, and vibrating against you.

The sensation sends another shockwave through your body, and a soft, helpless moan slips past your lips.

“Yeah?” Matt murmurs against you, his voice thick with need. “That feel good, sweetheart?”

You can’t even respond properly. Just a breathless, desperate whimper as your hips shift slightly, pressing closer.

Matt smirks against you before dragging his nose up, then back down, rubbing slow, torturous circles against you before flicking against that sensitive spot again.

A choked moan rips from your throat, your body reacting before your mind can catch up, your thighs trembling around him.

“Fuck, angel,” Matt groans again, his voice gravelly and wrecked, like he’s barely holding himself together. “You sound so fuckin’ sweet.”

He presses harder, a slow, teasing drag, and your body shakes, another desperate whimper slipping free.

Your head tilts back, fingers gripping his hair tightly, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

Matt lets out another ragged groan, his hands gripping your thighs firmly as he keeps going, his voice muffled but still deliberate-

“Let me hear you, sweetheart.”

And when he flicks his nose just right again, you do.

Matt groans against you, the vibrations sending another sharp wave of pleasure through your body. His hands grip your thighs tighter, his fingers flexing like he’s desperate to hold you in place.

You are a mess.

Your breath is ragged, your legs trembling as he keeps going, dragging his nose in slow, deliberate motions against that sensitive spot. Every flick, every press, every little nuzzle makes your thighs twitch, makes another helpless moan spill from your lips.

Matt loves it.

You can feel how much he loves it. The way his grip tightens, the way his breathing turns heavier, the way his groans slip out with every little movement.

“Fuck,” he mutters against you, voice wrecked. “You’re shaking.”

You are. Your thighs are trembling under his touch, your hands fisted tightly in his hair, your entire body burning.

“Feels so- mhphh- feel so good,” you gasp, barely able to speak through the overwhelming sensation.

Matt groans at that, his grip on you tightening.

“You like that, yeah?” he murmurs, flicking his nose against you again, making you arch. “Like me making you feel good?”

You can only nod, breathless, your fingers tugging at his hair as another moan slips from your lips.

Matt smirks against you before dragging his nose up again, then back down, teasing you, working you up so slowly you feel like you’re going to lose your mind.

“Matty,” you whimper, voice shaking.

He hums in response, the deep sound sending another shudder through your body.

“You sound so fuckin’ sweet, angel,” he groans. “So perfect.”

And then he does it again. A slow, firm press, his nose nudging against you just right, and your entire body jerks, another sharp, desperate moan breaking from your throat.

Matt can feel it- the way your body is trembling under his touch, the way your fingers are gripping his hair tightly, like you need something to anchor you through the overwhelming sensations rolling through you.

His lips part against your nearly soaked through panties, his breath hot and ragged as he presses in deeper, his nose dragging slow, deliberate movements that make you whimper, make your back arch off the bed.

“Oh my- Matt,” you gasp, voice breathless and shaking.

He groans, his grip on your thighs tightening. “That’s it, angel,” he mutters against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through your core. “Let me hear you.”

You barely register what you’re doing. Your body acts before your brain can catch up. Your thighs spread more, giving him better access, and he takes full advantage.

His movements become more focused, more precise, flicking his nose against that exact spot over and over again, pressing firmer, dragging the tip up and down before pushing in harder.

Your breath shatters, a high-pitched whimper slipping from your lips.

“Oh-”

Matt groans deeply, his voice thick with need. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps. “You’re shaking so much.”

You really are, too. Your legs trembling around his head, your stomach clenching with each movement he makes.

“Feels…” You gasp sharply as another flick sends you spiraling, your hands tightening in his hair. “Feels so-”

Matt hums again, the deep vibration sparking another moan from you.

“I know, angel,” he breathes, dragging his nose in slow, torturous strokes against you. “I know. Just let go.”

Your entire body tenses, heat pooling low in your stomach, coiling tighter, tighter. The pressure is overwhelming, so much more than anything you’ve ever felt, building and building until-

A sharp flick. A firm press.

You break.

A soft, desperate cry escapes you as your entire body shatters, waves of pleasure crashing over you, your thighs clamping around his head as you tremble, gasping for air.

Matt groans as he feels you come undone beneath him, his grip firm, his voice wrecked as he murmurs, “That’s it, angel. Let me feel you.”

Your hands tighten in his hair, your body writhing beneath him as he keeps going, drawing it out, letting you ride the high until you’re left breathless, limp against the bed, completely spent.

He finally pulls back, his breath heavy, his lips parted as he looks up at you with pure hunger.

He watches you, his breath still ragged, his pupils dark and hungry as he takes in the sight of you. Of your body trembling, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, your thighs still twitching from the overwhelming sensation coursing through you.

Without a word, he leans back in.

Your breath catches as he licks a slow, deliberate stripe up the soaking wet fabric of your underwear, the heat of his tongue pressing firmly against the sensitive spot he had just been teasing mercilessly with his nose.

Your whole body jolts, a small whimper slipping from your lips as he finally pulls away.

Matt exhales heavily, his breath warm against your skin as he lifts his head, resting his cheek against your thigh, his hands still gripping them firmly, keeping you open.

And then he looks up at you, his expression something almost possessive flickering behind his gaze.

“You know how you asked me what cumming was?” he murmurs, his voice low, deep, dangerous.

Your breath stutters, your stomach flipping violently as you suddenly feel it- the way your body is still pulsing, the wetness between your thighs making everything too real.

Your face burns.

You inhale sharply, trying to press your legs closed out of instinct, out of sheer embarrassment, but Matt’s hands immediately tighten around your thighs, keeping them spread.

You let out a small, flustered whimper, your body still oversensitive, still buzzing, and Matt’s lips twitch into a knowing smirk as he trails a single finger along the wet fabric, pressing just lightly, just enough to make your breath hitch.

His voice drops, his tone laced with something smug, something possessive.

“That was cumming.”

Your chest rises and falls as your body continues to hum with the aftershocks of what just happened.

You swallow hard, blinking down at Matt, who’s still resting his cheek against your thigh, watching you with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.

You shift slightly, trying to process everything, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you as your mind struggles to catch up. “Oh,” you whisper, your voice soft, dazed. “That was the… release you were talking about.”

Matt exhales sharply, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice still thick with desire. “That was the release.”

Your body shudders again as you feel it- another slow, warm trickle of something leaking through your already soaking underwear, your thighs twitching at the sensation. You shift slightly, uncomfortable, still feeling so sensitive.

Matt notices.

His eyes darken as he watches the way you move, his grip tightening on your thighs. He pulls them further apart, just slightly, just enough to get a better view of your cum leaking through your underwear.

Your breath catches, your face burning, and you stutter, your voice barely above a whisper. “W-was that what you meant when you said you were going to be inside me?”

The instant the words leave your lips, Matt’s entire body tenses.

His fingers dig into your thighs, his jaw clenching as his head drops for a moment, his chest rising and falling in slow, controlled breaths like he’s trying to keep himself in check.

You blink down at him, confused by his reaction, watching as he visibly composes himself before finally lifting his head again.

His pupils are blown, his cheeks flushed, but when he meets your gaze, he manages a smirk, shaking his head slightly.

“No, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice rough, strained. “Not quite.”

You pout, shifting slightly again, still feeling the lingering ache between your legs. “I haven’t earned it yet?”

Matt huffs a quiet laugh, his smirk deepening as he tilts his head, dragging his thumbs slowly up your inner thighs, his gaze locked onto yours.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with promise as he stands up and kisses your forehead. “Go to sleep.”

You simply nod, closing your eyes and flopping back on the bed, eyes already fluttering shut.

Matt watches you turn over and then walks toward your door.

The moment your door clicks shut, Matt exhales sharply, pressing his forehead against the wood and gripping the door handle hard. His knuckles turn white from the pressure, his breathing still ragged, still uneven. His entire body is tight- burning, aching, straining against the very last threads of his self-control.

Jesus Christ.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to steady himself, but it’s fucking impossible. Not after what just happened. Not after you looked at him like that, asked him those questions with your wide, innocent eyes, spread your legs for him like it was natural, like you trusted him with your body in a way that made him feel both honored and fucking ruined.

And then your sweet oblivious little mouth just had to ask if that was what he meant when he said he’d be inside you.

Matt groans under his breath, his jaw clenching so tight it aches. He can still see you, still feel the heat of you against his face, the way you twitched, gasped, moaned for him. His name had slipped from your lips like a prayer, and fuck- he had almost lost himself right then and there.

He had barely. Barely. Held himself together.

But now?

Now, he’s alone.

Now, there’s nothing stopping him.

His hands shake as he shoves down the waistband of his sweatpants, the thick pressure of his arousal almost painful at this point. His cock is aching, flushed and leaking, proof of just how much you had affected him- proof of just how fucking desperate he is for you.

A harsh breath leaves his lips as he wraps a fist around himself, finally getting the friction he needs. His head tilts back slightly, his other hand pressed flat against the wooden door as he strokes himself, letting his mind wander exactly where it wants to go.

You.

Your flushed face, your swollen lips, the way your breath had stuttered every time he pressed against your clit, how you had gasped when you came, how your fingers had tangled in his hair, tugging, holding him there like you never wanted him to leave.

Fuck.

Matt squeezes his eyes shut, his jaw tightening as he picks up the pace, his breath turning uneven, ragged. His hips jerk into his fist, and his mind spirals further- what if he hadn’t stopped? What if he had really shown you what it meant to have him inside you? What if he had been buried between your thighs, licking into you, tasting you properly, making you come again, and again, and again, until you were crying his name, begging for more-

His breath shudders, his stomach tightening, his grip firm as he chases it. He was so fucking close, so wound up, his body on fire, his thighs tensing as a low, guttural groan rumbles from his chest.

It crashes into him fast, hard- his release ripping through him in sharp, pulsing waves as he cups his tip with his other hand, catching the release in his palm so he doesn’t cum on the floor. His hand slows, his chest rising and falling in deep, heavy breaths, his entire body thrumming from the intensity of it.

For a moment, he just stands there, his palm still wrapped around himself, hand full of his cum, and his head tilted backward.

He quickly rushes himself to the bathroom, and clean up. it isn’t until he washes his hands in the sink that the thought briefly crosses his mind. He drags a hand down his face. What if your brother had walked out? Or worse, your father?

But Matt wasn’t truly thinking about that. Not at all.

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, his body still buzzing from the release and somehow still aching for more.

It should’ve been enough. Should’ve. But it wasn’t.

Not even close.

Because the second he dries his hands and leans against the counter, gripping the cool edge with both hands, his mind betrays him, replaying every single fucking second of what had just happened all over again.

The way you looked at him. The way you gasped when he touched you. The way your voice had trembled when you whispered his name, all breathless and needy, like you needed him, like you had never felt anything like that before.

His jaw clenches, his fingers flexing against the counter, his body already stirring back to life, heat curling low in his stomach again.

He groans under his breath, shoving a hand through his hair. His body is still so wired, still so fucking hard, and he knows there’s only one way to fix it.

He turns the faucet on, letting the water run as he braces himself over the sink, staring at his own reflection. His pupils are blown, his skin still flushed, his chest rising and falling too fast.

He can still smell you on his face.

His grip tightens on the edge of the sink, his breath coming out in a slow, shaky exhale.

Then, without hesitation, he shoves his sweatpants down again, his cock already achingly hard once more.

He barely has time to wrap a fist around himself before his hips jerk into his palm, the sensation making him groan low in his throat.

His hand moves so very slow. He was teasing, taunting, and dragging the pleasure out in long, torturous strokes, just like he had done to you.

Fuck, angel, his mind taunts, replaying his own words against his skull. You sound so fuckin’ sweet.

His breathing shudders, his grip tightening. A deep groan rips from his throat, his strokes faster now, his hips chasing the sensation.

But it’s not enough.

He needs more.

He needs to see you again.

His jaw clenches as he yanks his phone off the counter, flicking the camera on and angling it towards the mirror. His pupils are blown, his chest flushed, his cock thick and leaking, his hand wrapped tight around himself.

He groans again, dropping his own dick to grab his shirt, pulling it between his teeth before returning to the throbbing member, pumping it a few times before snapping a few pictures.

After talking that he tilts the phone downward, recording for a few seconds as he slowly strokes himself, watching the way his abs tense as he fucks into his own hand.

He imagines sending it to you as he puts the phone facedown back on the counter.

Imagines your innocent little gasp when you see it.

Imagines your wide, curious eyes as you whisper, Matty, why does it look like that?

Imagines himself teaching you.

A ragged moan tears from his throat, his body tensing, his stomach tightening as the heat coils in his spine, building- building- building-

Until he shatters again.

His breath stutters, his hand slowing, his body pulsing, his release spilling over his fingers in thick, hot waves.

His jaw drops, his head tilting back, his chest heaving as he rides it out, so fucking spent that his knees nearly buckle.

He stands there for a moment, panting, gripping the counter, waiting for his body to stop shaking.

He barely has time to catch his breath before the need creeps back in for the third time. He was so sensitive and so overstimulated that he didn’t think it was even possible to be still hard. But here he was. His muscles were still tense, his skin overheated, his body thrumming with the aftershocks of release.

His cock is still hard, twitching against his abdomen, a constant, aching reminder of what he just did- and what he still wants.

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his damp hair, his jaw clenching as his fingers flex against the counter. The mirror reflects the mess he’s become- flushed cheeks, sweat-slicked skin, pupils blown so wide that his irises are barely visible.

He knows what he’s about to do is reckless.

He knows he shouldn’t.

But that innocent little pout you gave him earlier? The way you whispered, I haven’t earned it yet? The way you looked at him with those wide eyes as if you had no clue what you were actually asking for?

Fuck.

His phone is still face down on the counter.

He grabs it.

His other hand is already sliding down, already pushing his waistband down. He tilts the phone in one hand, aiming it downward as he presses record.

His fingertips skim down his stomach, dragging over his tightened abs, the muscles twitching under his touch. He hisses softly, teasing himself, delaying the inevitable as he traces the sharp lines of his obliques, feeling the tension coil again, deeper, tighter.

His cock jumps, aching for attention, the head still slick and sensitive from his last orgasm. But he doesn’t grip himself yet- not yet.

Instead, he lets his fingers tease, barely brushing the flushed tip, smearing the remnants of his cum across his skin, feeling the hot, sticky slickness coat his fingertips.

A low groan vibrates from his chest as he swirls his thumb over the head, his body jerking at the overstimulation.

“Fuck-”

The sound echoes in the bathroom, rough and needy.

He sets the phone down on the counter, leaning against the wall so his face is now in frame too, his breath coming out uneven as his fingers finally wrap around himself again.

The first stroke is a torturous drag from base to tip. His grip was firm but not tight, just enough to make his hips stutter forward, chasing the friction.

His breath shudders, his stomach tightening as he squeezes just a little harder, dragging his fist back down.

He rolls his hips into his hand, setting a rhythm. Slow but deep, each stroke sending a sharp pulse of pleasure up his spine.

He starts to buck his hips up, his thumb circling the leaking tip before dragging back down along the vein running the underside of his shaft.

His pace picks up, his grip tighter now, his strokes longer, firmer, his abs flexing with every sharp movement.

A growl rumbles in his throat as he tilts his head back, his jaw going slack as his pleasure builds, stronger, heavier, deeper.

His thighs tense as he pumps his fist faster, his breath coming out in harsh, ragged pants, sweat beading at his temple as his body coils tight, tight, tight-

The tension is blistering, a sharp, almost painful heat curling at the base of his spine, twisting through his muscles, spreading everywhere.

His chest heaves, his entire body locking up as his strokes turn sloppy, desperate, chasing the sharp edge of release that’s so fucking close-

“Fuck, Y/N-”

The moment your name falls from his lips, his body shatters.

A deep moan tears from his throat as pleasure crashes through him hard, blinding and nearly unbearable.

Thick ropes of release spill over his fist again, streaking hot across his stomach, dripping onto his abs as his body shakes, his thighs genuinely trembling with the aftershocks.

His strokes slow, his breath stuttering, his muscles clenching and unclenching drastically as he rides it out, his head dropping forward, sweat dampening his hair.

For a few moments, the only sound in the bathroom is his ragged breathing, the soft hum of the ventilation fan, the faint creak of the counter as he braces against it.

His hand is still wrapped around himself, sticky and hot.

His phone screen flickers.

And that’s when he realizes-

The video was still recording.

The entire thing.

The sharp, filthy sounds of his pleasure, the way he groaned your name, the way his body unraveled for you.

And before he can think, before he can talk himself out of it, his finger hovers over send.

And then he presses it.

a/n: yall wanted a part 2 so bad so here you go🧡🧡 lmk if u want a part 3

PART THREE OUT NOW

MASTERLIST

for @mattsobvimyfav

1K notes · View notes

meg-sturniolo · 1 month ago

Text

Lowk drooling

I haven't been into dom men recently but this just....

I'm in love

EARNED IT | MATTHEW STURNIOLO

brothersbestfriend!matt x innocent!reader

You’re an 18-year-old high school senior, the innocent little sister of Matt’s best friend. Which means off-limits in every way. But 22-year-old college hockey player, Matt can’t ignore the way you cling to him, asking dangerous questions with trusting eyes. You don’t understand the fire you’re playing with- but Matt does. And he’s burning to teach you what happens when you get too close.

story warnings: heavy make out, lowkey corruption kink (if u squint), brothers best friend, pet names (sweetheart, angel), age gap (four years), etc. all characters are of age. If any of these topics upset you...don't read!

word count: 7k

a/n: i didn’t go into this with the intention of creating a similar story but as i read it over I’m realizing it’s very similar to an @ariestrxsh fic with the same trope. click here to read the first chapter of that! it’s very good and I recommend strongly!

You stand in front of the hallway mirror, tugging at the hem of your navy-blue dress, smoothing the fabric with your palms. The dress fits snugly, a little more mature than what you’re used to, but tonight isn’t just any night. It’s the sports award banquet. Your brother and Matt’s banquet. And your dad only let you tag along under the condition that you “stay out of trouble.”

But it wasn’t exactly you who he was worried about.

A sharp knock echoes from the front door.

“Get the fuckin’ door!” your brother shouts from upstairs.

“Okay, okay!” You huff, your heels clicking against the hardwood floor as you rush to answer.

When you unlock it, the bitter January air bites at your exposed skin, sending a chill down your spine. Matt stands in the doorway, hand raised mid-knock, his dark brows lifting when he takes you in.

His smirk is slight but enough to notice. “Well, don’t you look all grown up,” he muses, voice low and teasing. Then, without warning, he reaches out and ruffles the top of your freshly styled hair.

You scrunch your nose but let him, even though you just spent the better part of an hour curling it.

“Jesus, Matt,” you huff, stepping aside so he can come in. The cold air follows him as he shrugs off his coat, revealing a navy-blue suit, just a shade darker than your dress. You swallow, watching through the mirror as he tugs at his tie.

“You coming with us?” His voice is lighter now, curious but knowing.

“Yep! Daddy said I could tag along if I behave.” You smile, turning back to your reflection, smoothing your hair again.

Matt exhales a quiet chuckle, stepping closer behind you, his presence warm despite the winter air still clinging to him. You watch as he adjusts his tie in the mirror, his fingers long and practiced.

“You gonna behave then, sweetheart?” His eyes flick to yours in the reflection, amusement flickering behind them.

You nod, standing up straighter, suddenly aware of the way he towers over you. It’s always been like this. Him looking down at you, you looking up. The age gap was something your brother had always made a big deal about. ”Too old for you.” “Off limits.”

But Matt never seemed to care about that.

Your breath catches when his hand moves again, messing up your hair on purpose this time.

“Matt!” you whine, swatting his arm as you twist away. “I just fixed that.”

He grins, tongue running along his front teeth as he watches you pout. “Relax, kid, you still look pretty.”

Your stomach flips at that.

Before you can say anything, your brother’s voice rings out from upstairs. “Matty B! Get your ass up here!”

Matt sighs dramatically, shooting you one last glance before jogging up the stairs. You watch him go, your fingers tightening slightly around the fabric of your dress.

The banquet hall is grand, chandeliers casting a warm glow over round tables covered in crisp white linen. The clinking of glasses and laughter fills the air as athletes and their families mingle, celebrating another season of victories. You follow closely behind your brother and Matt, your heels clicking on the marble floor as you take in the scene with wide eyes.

Your brother spots your dad near the head table and heads off with a wave. “Don’t get into trouble,” he mutters over his shoulder.

“I never do,” you chirp back, but he’s already gone.

Matt stays beside you, his hand hovering at your lower back in a way that feels protective, almost possessive, but he never actually touches you.

“You stick with me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, eyes scanning the room. “Don’t need you getting eaten alive in here.”

You blink up at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

But before he can answer, a familiar voice interrupts.

“Damn, Y/N.”

You turn to see Jackson, one of your brother’s teammates, grinning at you like he’s just won something. “Didn’t know you cleaned up this nice.”

Matt stiffens beside you, but you don’t notice, too busy beaming at the compliment. “Thank you, Jackson! You look nice too.”

Jackson smirks, stepping closer. “You should let me take you out sometime. We could grab dinner, maybe see a movie, head back to my place?”

Before you can answer, Matt shifts slightly, his broad frame stepping just enough into the space between you and Jackson to make it clear. “She’s not interested,” he says casually, though there’s an unmistakable edge to his voice.

Jackson’s smirk falters. “She can answer for herself, can’t she?”

You glance between them, feeling a little lost. “I mean… I do like movies.”

Matt exhales sharply, running a hand down his face before placing it firmly on your lower back, actually touching you this time. “C’mon, angel. Let’s find our table.” His grip is gentle but insistent, steering you away before Jackson can say anything else.

As you walk away, you glance up at him. “That was kinda rude.”

Matt scoffs. “No, sweetheart. That was necessary.”

You frown but don’t push it, too distracted by the sight of the massive dessert table at the far end of the room. “Ooh! Can we get something sweet?”

His jaw clenches, but he nods. “Yeah, sure.”

Before you even make it halfway there, another one of your brother’s teammates- Tyler- sidles up beside you, grinning.

“Hey, Y/N,” he drawls, eyes trailing over your dress in a way that makes Matt’s fingers twitch against your back. “Didn’t think I’d see you here tonight.”

“My daddy let me come,” you say cheerfully. “It’s so fun! I didn’t know it’d be this fancy.”

Tyler smirks. “Your daddy, huh? You look real good all dressed up. Bet you’ve got guys falling all over you tonight.”

You blink. “Huh? Oh no, I just came with Matt and my brother.”

Matt sighs, long and slow. “Yeah, and she’s leaving with us too. Right, sweetheart?”

You nod, completely missing the way Matt glares daggers at Tyler. “Yep! Daddy said I had to go home when they do.”

Tyler chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s a shame. If you ever wanna have a little fun after curfew, you know who to call.”

You tilt your head. “Fun? Like… Games or…?”

Tyler lets out a loud laugh, but before he can respond, Matt steps in front of you completely, his voice dropping dangerously low. “Walk away, Tyler.”

Tyler holds his hands up in mock surrender, still grinning. “Relax, man. Just messing around.”

Matt doesn’t budge. Doesn’t smile. Doesn’t blink.

Tyler’s grin fades slightly before he turns and disappears back into the crowd.

You tug on Matt’s sleeve, pouting. “Why are you being so mean tonight?”

Matt exhales through his nose, looking down at you with something unreadable in his expression. “I’m not being mean, angel. Just looking out for you.”

You huff but let it go when you finally reach the dessert table, distracted by a chocolate fountain. “Oh my gosh! Look at this!”

Matt watches as you grab a skewer and dip a marshmallow into the melted chocolate, completely oblivious to the attention you’re getting from half the room.

His jaw tenses as he glances around, making sure no one else even thinks about coming near you.

Your brother would kill him if he knew how he was feeling right now. But as you happily hum while licking melted chocolate from your fingers, utterly unaware of the way his entire body is locked up with restraint- Matt knows he’s in trouble.

Big, big trouble.

The banquet is in full swing as the night goes on, the energy in the room buzzing with excitement as awards are handed out. Your brother wins MVP, grinning as he walks up to accept his plaque, you and the rest of the crowd erupting in applause. Matt wins Best Defensive Player, and when his name is called, you clap so enthusiastically that he shoots you a look- amused but slightly exasperated.

“Calm down, angel,” he murmurs as he sits back down, placing his award on the table.

“I’m proud of you,” you say, grinning.

Matt shakes his head, but there’s a softness in his eyes as he nudges your knee under the table.

Throughout dinner, glasses of champagne are passed around, and even though Matt gives you a warning look, you take one anyway.

“It’s just one,” you assure him, lifting the flute to your lips.

“That’s not just one,” he mutters as you reach for another a little while later.

But you don’t listen. The bubbles tickle your throat, making you giggle, and before long, there’s a slight warmth settling over you, your limbs loosening, the room feeling lighter, happier.

Matt groans when you sip your third glass. “Jesus Christ, sweetheart.”

Your brother, too busy celebrating with his teammates, doesn’t even notice.

Matt does, though. Matt always notices.

By the time the banquet winds down, you’re giggling at everything, eyes bright as your dad rounds everyone up to leave.

The ride home is quiet, the hum of the car filling the space. Your dad drives, your brother is on your left, and Matt is on your right. Somehow, you’ve ended up in the middle seat, legs tucked under you, your body loose and relaxed from the champagne.

You lean against Matt’s shoulder, sighing dramatically. “M’so sleepy.”

Matt stiffens, his whole body going rigid.

“You shouldn’t have had all that champagne,” he murmurs, voice low, almost strained.

You ignore him, nuzzling into his arm like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “But it tasted so good.”

Your brother snorts. “You’re such a lightweight.”

You pout, shifting slightly, pressing even closer to Matt. You don’t realize what you’re doing, the way your fingers absentmindedly trace patterns on his forearm, the way your cheek presses against the fabric of his jacket, how warm he is.

Matt notices.

His jaw is clenched so tight it aches. He keeps his hands firmly planted on his thighs, muscles tense as he stares straight ahead. You’re touching him like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t mean anything. But to him?

It means everything.

Your fingers graze his wrist, and he exhales through his nose, shifting slightly in his seat, trying to put some distance between you. But you just follow, draping an arm over his bicep, your cheek now resting against his shoulder.

“You smell so nice,” you sigh, voice hazy, drunk and sweet.

Matt swears under his breath.

Your brother doesn’t notice. He’s too busy scrolling through his phone, occasionally grumbling about some play he should’ve gotten more credit for.

But Matt? He’s suffering.

Because you’re all soft touches and sleepy sighs, completely unaware of the fact that every innocent little move you make is driving him insane.

You shift again, snuggling impossibly closer. “You’re so comfy, Matty.”

Matt groans so quietly only you hear it. “Jesus.”

You blink up at him, bleary-eyed. “Hmm?”

“Nothing.” His voice is tight.

You smile, resting your head against his shoulder again, your fingers still tracing those mindless little patterns on his arm. “You’re so nice to me.”

Matt closes his eyes briefly, inhaling sharply through his nose.

If only you knew.

When you get home, the house is quiet, the air thick with the lingering chill of the winter night. Your dad mutters something about heading to bed, your brother and Matt trudging up the stairs after him.

You follow, still tipsy, still warm from the champagne, your limbs loose and slow as you move.

Matt is staying over, just like he always does after big game nights or events. He and your brother disappear into his room while you shuffle to yours, sighing as you peel off your dress, trading it for an oversized t-shirt- one that falls mid-thigh, barely covering your underwear. You tug on a pair of thigh-high socks, cozying up against the cold air before slipping on your blue light glasses, needing something to steady your still-spinning vision.

You head to the bathroom, flipping on the light, humming softly as you brush your teeth.

The door creaks open, and Matt steps in, rubbing his face tiredly before freezing in place when he sees you.

His eyes sweep over you, taking in your messy hair, the oversized tee hanging off your frame, the way your socks cling to your thighs. His jaw ticks, but he says nothing, just clears his throat before stepping toward the sink.

“Didn’t know you were in here,” he murmurs, voice rough with exhaustion- or maybe something else.

You shrug, toothpaste foaming at the corners of your mouth. “S’okay. I don’t mind.”

Matt huffs a quiet laugh, turning on the faucet to wash his hands. “You should be in bed, angel.”

You lean against the counter, tilting your head. “Matt?”

He grabs a towel, drying his hands before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah?”

You blink at him, expression slightly dazed. “Why were all those guys acting weird tonight?”

He stiffens slightly. “Weird how?”

You frown, thinking. “Like… they kept talking to me. Saying things that didn’t make sense.” You pause, then look up at him, brows furrowed. “What did they want?”

Matt exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “They were flirting with you, sweetheart. They thought you were pretty.”

Your nose scrunches. “Oh.” You tilt your head. “But you flirt with me too, right?”

His fingers flex against the counter. “Not like they do.”

You narrow your eyes. “You think I’m pretty too, right?”

Matt lets out a slow breath, gripping the edge of the sink. “Yeah, angel,” he murmurs, his voice strained. “I do.”

You blink, processing. “Then why does it matter?”

Matt turns, leaning back against the counter, arms crossing over his broad chest. His gaze is steady, dark in a way that makes your stomach flutter.

“Because they don’t just think you’re pretty,” he says carefully. “They want to sleep with you.”

You stare, heart skipping. “Oh.”

Matt watches your expression shift, your lips part slightly as realization starts to settle.

“They-” You swallow. “They wanted to… have sex with me?”

His jaw tightens. “Yeah, angel. That’s what they wanted.”

Your cheeks burn instantly, your fingers gripping the hem of your oversized t-shirt. “Oh.”

Matt studies you, the way your breath hitches slightly, the way your eyes flicker down before snapping back up.

“You really didn’t know?” he asks, voice gentler now.

You shake your head quickly. “No, I- I just thought they were being nice.”

Matt exhales a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re somethin’ else, sweetheart.”

Your fingers fidget with the fabric of your shirt, your face still warm. “I didn’t- ” You hesitate. “I don’t really… talk about this kind of stuff.”

“I know.” His voice is soft, understanding.

You shift on your feet, gnawing at your lower lip. “I mean… I know what it is. But I don’t-” You trail off, exhaling sharply. “I don’t get it.”

Matt tilts his head slightly, his gaze heavy but patient. “What don’t you get?”

You chew on your lip again, hesitating before blurting, “Why do they want to?”

Matt blinks. “What?”

You huff, flustered now. “Like… why do guys want to do that so much? I don’t get it.”

Matt runs a hand down his face, clearly trying to stay composed. “Because it feels good.”

You inhale sharply, your face burning hotter. “Oh.”

Your heart stammers in your chest, something thick and unfamiliar sitting heavy in the space between you.

You grip the counter. “Have you…” You hesitate, then force the words out. “Have you done it?”

Matt’s lips twitch slightly, amused despite himself. “Yeah, sweetheart. I have.”

Your stomach flips, something strange curling in your gut. “Oh.”

He smirks. “That bother you?”

Your face flames. “N-no! I just-” You fumble, shaking your head quickly. “I just… I didn’t know.”

For a second, neither of you move. The space between you is thick with something you don’t quite understand, something unspoken but heavy. His gaze lingers, his expression unreadable, and it makes you fidget.

Your fingers play with the hem of your oversized t-shirt, twisting the fabric nervously. You don’t even realize that it hikes up slightly, exposing more of your bare thighs, the soft curve of them accentuated by your thigh-high socks. But Matt notices.

His eyes flicker down for the briefest second before snapping back up.

You hesitate, then softly say, “Matt?”

His jaw tenses. “Yeah?”

Your eyes stay fixed on the way your fingers pull at the fabric of your shirt. “Does it… really feel good?”

Matt’s breath is slow, measured. “Yeah, angel,” he murmurs. “It does.”

You shift on your feet, heat creeping up your neck. “Like… how?”

His lips part slightly, and for the first time tonight, he looks caught off guard. He drags a hand down his face, exhaling through his nose like he’s trying to gather himself.

“It’s- ” He stops, searching for the right words. “It’s different for everyone, but it’s… intense.”

You swallow, your fingers still gripping your shirt. “Intense how?”

His eyes darken slightly, his voice dropping a little lower. “It’s a kind of pressure. A build-up. And then… release.”

Your stomach flips, your whole body suddenly feeling too warm. “Oh.”

Matt watches you carefully, taking in the way your breath has gone a little shallower, the way your fingers fidget with your shirt again, lifting the fabric another inch before you even realize it. His eyes flicker down, then back up, something sharp flashing in them for a second before he schools his expression.

“Angel,” he says slowly. “You ever… thought about it before?”

You blink up at him, dazed. “Thought about what?”

His jaw clenches slightly. “Sex.”

Your breath catches, your entire body heating at the way the word rolls off his tongue so casually, like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t make your knees feel weak.

“I- ” You shift on your feet. “I mean, I know about it.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Matt murmurs.

You feel like your face is on fire. “I don’t- ” You bite your lip, exhaling shakily. “I don’t think so.”

Matt hums, tilting his head. “You don’t think so?”

You frown slightly, trying to collect your thoughts, but your mind is a mess, spinning, hazy from champagne and the weight of this conversation. “I just don’t really-” You shift again, your thighs pressing together instinctively. “I don’t get it.”

Matt watches the movement, his throat bobbing slightly before he lifts his gaze back to yours. “What don’t you get, angel?”

You hesitate, feeling impossibly small under his gaze. “Why people want it so much,” you admit, voice softer now, almost unsure.

Matt exhales slowly. “Because it feels good, sweetheart. It’s the closest you can get to someone. And when it’s with the right person…” He trails off for a second, then looks at you intently. “It’s really good.”

You shiver, despite the heat curling in your stomach. “What does it feel like?”

Matt’s fingers twitch at his sides, like he wants to do something with them but won’t let himself.

“You really wanna know?” he asks, voice lower now, rougher.

You nod, swallowing hard.

He leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “It starts slow,” he murmurs. “Your body gets all warm, all needy.” His eyes flicker down to the way you’re fidgeting with your shirt, how your thighs shift slightly where you stand. “You feel it everywhere. The pressure, the tension. And then when you finally get what you need-” He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “It’s like relief. Like every nerve in your body is completely relaxed all at once.”

You stare at him, heart hammering, your fingers tightening on your shirt as you shift again, a deep, unfamiliar heat curling in your stomach.

Matt notices. Of course he notices.

He tilts his head slightly. “You ever been kissed before, angel?”

Your breath hitches. “What?”

His lips twitch slightly, but his expression remains unreadable. “You heard me.”

Your cheeks burn. “I- I mean, yeah.”

His gaze sharpens. “Yeah?”

You swallow hard. “Once.”

Matt hums, like he’s not entirely convinced. “And did you feel anything?”

Your stomach twists. “I… I don’t know.”

His jaw clenches slightly. “If you don’t know,” he murmurs, voice quieter now, rougher, “then the answer is no.”

You press your thighs together again, your whole body suddenly feeling strange, tingly, like your skin is too tight. “Oh.”

Matt’s gaze doesn’t waver, dark and knowing, like he’s seeing right through you.

“You’re feeling it now, aren’t you?”

Your breath catches. “W-what?”

He exhales through his nose, his voice dropping lower, slower. “The first part.” He tilts his head slightly, eyes dragging over you. “Warm and needy.”

Your pulse pounds in your ears. “I- I don’t- ” You shake your head quickly, even as your skin burns, your thighs press together again, your grip on your shirt tightening.

Matt takes a slow step toward you, his presence impossibly big in the small bathroom. “You are feeling it,” he murmurs, eyes locked onto yours. “Aren’t you, angel?”

Your mouth opens, then closes, your face scorching hot. “How can you tell?” you whisper.

He smirks, slow and lazy, but his voice is still rough, still tight. “You’re not exactly subtle about it.”

Your breath stutters as realization hits you.

Your thighs- pressed together.

Your fingers- clutching at your shirt, pulling it tighter, twisting the fabric.

Your breathing- short, shallow.

You feel like your body isn’t your own, like every nerve is suddenly hyperaware of the space between you and Matt, the way he’s looking at you, the way you can feel the heat radiating off of him even though he’s still an arm’s length away.

He takes another step closer.

Your stomach flips, your heartbeat a frantic staccato against your ribs.

His voice is lower now, softer, but it makes your entire body tingle. “Where are you feeling it?”

Your throat dries. “What?”

His gaze flickers down, then back up. “Where do you feel it the most, angel?”

You swear the air in the room disappears. Your skin prickles with heat, embarrassment flooding you so fast that you physically shrink back.

“I- I…” Your voice barely works, breathy and unsure.

Matt hums, his eyes flickering over you again, watching the way your fingers still grip your shirt, how your weight shifts between your legs.

You do feel it. Everywhere.

Your cheeks burn hotter, your head spinning. You don’t even know what you’re supposed to say.

Matt watches you, his expression unreadable, his body still tense. His eyes flicker over your flushed skin, the way you’re gripping the hem of your oversized t-shirt like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. He exhales slowly, shaking his head slightly before tilting it, his voice dropping back to something softer, more careful.

“Tell me about that kiss you had.”

You blink up at him, still flustered, your brain barely catching up. “What?”

“The one you said you had. The only one.”

You shift uncomfortably. “I- uh. What about it?”

Matt’s gaze sharpens. “How did he touch you?”

Your stomach flips. “Touch me?”

He nods once. “Yeah. His hands. Where were they?”

You frown slightly, thinking back, but there’s nothing to think about. “He… didn’t.”

Matt’s brows lift slightly. “Didn’t?”

You shake your head, feeling a little embarrassed now. “I mean… he just kissed me. That’s it.”

Matt’s jaw ticks, his fingers flexing against the edge of the counter. “How long?”

You swallow. “Like… a second? Maybe two?”

Matt exhales sharply, shaking his head. “And what did it feel like?”

You bite your lip, thinking. “Nothing.”

Matt’s lips press into a thin line. “Nothing?”

You shrug. “I mean… it was just… a kiss.”

Matt takes another slow step toward you, his voice quieter now, rougher. “That’s not what it’s supposed to feel like, angel.”

Your breath catches, your fingers twitching against the hem of your shirt. You look up at him now, the air between you impossibly thick.

“…Then what is it supposed to feel like?”

Matt scans your body, his gaze dragging from the top of your head down the length of your frame- your messy hair, your parted lips, your bare thighs still pressed together slightly. He glances toward the open bathroom door, his jaw tightening before he reaches out, gripping the handle and slowly pushing it shut.

The click of the latch echoes in the silence.

When he turns back to you, his expression is darker now, his voice impossibly low.

“That warm and needy feeling?” His eyes lock onto yours, steady and intense. “It should feel like it’s on fire.”

Your stomach flips violently. “What do you mean?”

Matt steps closer, towering over you, his scent wrapping around you like something heavy and intoxicating. He leans down, just enough for his breath to brush against your lips.

“Like this.”

And then he kisses you.

It’s slow and intentional. His lips press against yours softly at first, like he’s giving you a chance to process, to pull away if you want to. But you don’t.

You can’t.

The second your breath hitches, he deepens it, his hand lifting just slightly like he wants to touch you but stops himself. His lips move against yours, slow and deliberate, and warmth spreads through your entire body. It’s thick and pulsing and burning.

Your fingers tremble as they clutch your t-shirt, your body melting before you even realize it. This is different. This is new.

This is what he meant.

When he finally pulls away, you’re breathless, dazed, your lips tingling from the weight of his touch. Your wide eyes meet his, your heart slamming against your ribs.

“…Oh.”

Matt’s jaw is tight, his breathing slow, controlled. His hand twitches at his side like he’s restraining himself, his eyes searching yours.

“Now tell me, angel,” his voice is rough, nearly a whisper.

“Did that feel like nothing?”

You swallow hard, shaking your head slowly. “…No.”

Matt’s lips twitch, his gaze darkening slightly. “Where did you feel it?”

You shift on your feet, feeling impossibly small under his stare. “I- I don’t know.”

Matt hums, stepping closer. “No?” His hands lift, slow, careful, fingertips ghosting over your cheeks as he cups your face gently. His thumbs brush against your skin, warm and grounding. “Did you feel it here?”

You inhale sharply, lips parting slightly, but shake your head. “Not… really.”

His hands move down, skimming over your shoulders, gripping them lightly. “Here?”

You shake your head again, heart pounding.

His hands trail lower, skimming down your arms, barely touching you. You shiver, exhaling shakily, but still, you shake your head.

Matt watches you, his movements slow, deliberate, as his palms skim over your waist, his thumbs pressing lightly into the soft curve of your stomach.

Your breath stutters.

His hands move lower.

Your fingers twitch against the hem of your oversized t-shirt as he settles them just above your hips, his touch firm, grounding. “What about here?”

You swallow, feeling lightheaded, but shake your head again.

And then his hands drift lower, fingertips grazing the soft skin of your lower stomach, right above where that deep, pulsing warmth sits heavy between your thighs.

Your body stiffens. Your breath catches.

Matt’s lips part slightly, his eyes locked onto yours, watching, waiting.

You nod, the smallest movement, barely even noticeable.

But he notices.

“Yeah?” His voice is softer now, rougher. “What’s it feel like, angel?”

Your thighs squeeze together instinctively, your skin burning under his touch. “I don’t know,” you stammer, breathless.

Matt hums, his thumbs tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin. “You sure?”

You nod quickly, but your body betrays you, shifting slightly into his touch.

Matt’s lips twitch again, something knowing behind his dark gaze as his hands slide down, fingertips trailing over the tops of your thighs before dragging back up, slow, teasing.

You shudder.

“Does it feel like a pulse?” he murmurs. “Like a throb?” His fingers trace the sensitive skin just above your knee, then glide up, his palms warm as they press lightly into the soft flesh of your thighs. “Almost a little wet?”

Your entire body jerks slightly, heat flooding your face, your stomach twisting violently in the most delicious way.

“Matt,” you whisper, mortified, shaking your head quickly.

His hands squeeze your thighs gently. “Hmm?”

You shake your head harder, but your body is betraying you again, shifting into his touch, your knees wobbling slightly as warmth pools deep in your core.

Matt watches you, eyes dark and knowing. Then, after a beat, he pulls his hands away, stepping back slightly.

Your body feels cold without his touch.

His gaze lingers on you, studying every little movement, every breath, every tremble. Then he asks, “Do you like that feeling?”

You hesitate, lips parting, but finally, finally, you nod.

Matt exhales slowly, his jaw tight, his hands flexing at his sides before his lips twitch into something almost smug. “It can feel even better.”

Your breath catches. “It… gets better?”

Matt chuckles, low and deep, shaking his head slightly. “So innocent,” he murmurs.

You frown slightly, embarrassed, shifting on your feet again.

But then his hand lifts again, fingertips brushing against your cheek before sliding into your hair, tilting your chin up slightly.

His gaze flickers over you, slow, measured.

And then he whispers, “Wanna see?”

Your breath stutters. Your pulse pounds. Your stomach twists in the most confusing, exhilarating way.

And then before you can even think- you nod.

Matt doesn’t hesitate.

His lips crash against yours, hotter this time, hungrier. His hands cup your face, tilting you exactly where he wants you as his mouth moves against yours, coaxing you into something deeper, something that makes that pulsing heat between your thighs turn into something more. It turns into something desperate, something dangerous.

Your fingers lift, gripping onto his shirt, needing something to hold onto as your legs feel weak beneath you.

He deepens the kiss, pulling you even closer, his hands firm as they slide from your face down to your waist, gripping you like he doesn’t want to let go. His lips are hot, insistent, moving against yours in a way that makes your head spin, your entire body buzzing with arousal.

His hands tighten around your waist, and before you can even register what’s happening, he lifts you effortlessly, gripping the backs of your thighs and setting you onto the cool bathroom counter. The contrast between the cold surface and his warm touch makes you shiver, your legs instinctively parting just enough for him to step between them.

And then- asound escapes your throat.

It’s soft, barely there. Nothing but a breathy little whimper as he tugs you closer, his hands gripping your thighs.

But it’s enough.

Your entire body locks up as realization sinks in, heat rushing to your face as you abruptly pull away, eyes wide with embarrassment. “I- I didn’t mean to-”

Matt’s breathing is heavy, his lips swollen from kissing you, but his eyes- his eyes are dark, focused, hungry.

He tilts his head, his hands still holding you firmly in place. “It’s normal, angel,” he murmurs, his voice impossibly low, deep enough to send shivers down your spine.

You swallow hard, still mortified. “But-”

He shakes his head, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles against your thigh. “It just means you like it,” he explains, his voice warm, coaxing. “Means it feels good.”

You shift, heat curling in your stomach again. “Still-”

“And it makes me feel good too.”

Your breath catches.

Matt’s eyes flicker over your face, his expression unreadable for a moment before he adds, “Makes me feel warm and needy, just like you.”

Your stomach flips, your fingers tightening against the edge of the counter.

Your voice is quieter now, unsure. “Then… why don’t you make any sounds?”

Matt stills, his lips twitching slightly, but it’s not amusement- it’s something else. His fingers flex against your thighs before dragging slowly up, fingertips pressing lightly into the fabric of your oversized t-shirt, tracing just under the hem.

He leans in, so close that his lips ghost against yours when he speaks.

“You want me to?”

Your pulse stutters.

You should probably say no.

But you don’t.

Instead, you nod.

Matt exhales through his nose, his smirk finally breaking through. “Yeah?”

You nod again, slower this time.

His hands slide up, gripping your waist, and then he kisses you again.

But this time, it’s different.

It’s slower and deeper. His tongue tracing against yours in a way that makes your head spin, your body arching slightly toward him before you even realize you’re doing it. His hands slide over your thighs, gripping them, pulling you forward until your legs wrap loosely around his waist.

A low sound rumbles from the back of his throat.

It’s quiet, but it’s there, vibrating against your lips, making your stomach flip and your entire body heat.

You gasp softly, your fingers gripping his shirt as the sound sends something dangerous pulsing between your thighs.

Matt must notice, because he groans again, this time a little louder, his hands tightening on your hips, his fingers pressing into your skin like he’s holding himself back.

The tension is unbearable now, your skin hot, your breaths short, every little movement making your head spin.

His hands gripped you tight, pulling you flush against him. His fingers trace slow, teasing patterns against your thighs, sending shivers up your spine. Your entire body is warm, buzzing, that unfamiliar but intoxicating feeling creeping higher and higher until a soft, breathy moan slips past your lips.

Matt freezes for a fraction of a second, his entire body tensing like a live wire, his hands gripping you tighter. And then he groans, deep and low, like the sound did something to him, like he needed to hear it.

His hands move before he can stop himself, sliding up your sides, fingertips teasing beneath the hem of your oversized t-shirt, skimming your bare skin as he pushes the fabric up, his palms warm and making you skin tingle in ways you’ve never imagined were possible.

A sudden, sharp knock on the door.

You barely stifle a yelp, but Matt is quicker.

His palm immediately covers your mouth, his other hand gripping your hip as he tenses, his head snapping toward the door. His light eyes flicker back to yours, and he puts a single finger to his lips, signaling for you to stay quiet.

Your heart is pounding.

“Yo, Matt,” your brother’s voice comes from the other side of the door. “You seen my sister? She left her laundry downstairs, and it’s hogging the dryer.”

Matt exhales slowly, his hand still over your mouth as he tilts his head toward the door, his voice calm, casual, like he hasn’t just had his hands all over you.

“Nah, dude. No idea where she is.”

The doorknob rattles.

You flinch.

Matt’s grip tightens on you instinctively, his hand pressing a little firmer against your mouth, his other hand flexing against your waist.

Your brother sighs. “Bro, unlock the door. I gotta brush my teeth.”

Matt’s jaw clenches, his eyes locking onto yours, something sharp flashing behind them before he whispers, so low you can barely hear it-

“Fuck.”

For a split second, you don’t know what he’s going to do.

Then, without hesitation, he lifts you again, your legs wrapping around his waist on instinct, and moves.

You barely have time to process before he’s setting you down into the bathtub, your back pressing against the cool surface. He leans in close, eyes serious, his hand brushing over your cheek for just a second.

“Stay quiet,” he whispers.

You nod quickly, heart hammering.

Matt exhales sharply, stepping back, adjusting himself. You blink, watching as he tugs his waistband up, shifting awkwardly, like he’s hiding something.

Your brows furrow slightly. “What are you-”

Matt immediately puts a finger to his lips again, shaking his head. “Shh.”

You shut your mouth, still confused, still burning from everything that just happened.

Before you can think too hard about it, Matt pulls the shower curtain closed, hiding you from view just as he unlocks the door and swings it open.

Your brother steps in, rubbing his face tiredly. “Dude, what took you so long?”

Matt shrugs, leaning casually against the sink, like he hasn’t just shoved you into the bathtub to keep you hidden. “Was taking a piss.”

Your brother makes a face. “Long ass piss bro.”

Matt just smirks, crossing his arms, his body perfectly positioned to block any possible view of the tub. “Long ass piss for a long ass dick, what can I say.”

Your brother rolls his eyes, grabbing his toothbrush. “Whatever.”

You hold your breath, praying he doesn’t notice anything, praying he doesn’t hear the way your breathing is still uneven, the way your body is still buzzing from Matt’s touch.

Matt’s hand twitches against the sink, his knuckles flexing. His jaw is tight, his body still tense. Like he’s just barely keeping himself under control.

After a few minutes of tense silence, the sound of running water and your brother brushing his teeth fills the room. You stay completely still in the tub, pressing your lips together to keep yourself from making a sound, even though your heart is still racing from what had just happened.

Finally, your brother spits into the sink, wipes his mouth, and mutters, “Alright, I’m going to my room.”

Matt doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, I’m just gonna wash my face, I’ll meet you there.”

Your brother hums in response, the bathroom door creaking as he steps out. The moment you hear his footsteps retreating down the hall, Matt quickly shuts the door, locking it again before exhaling heavily. His shoulders relax slightly as he pulls back the shower curtain, his gaze landing on you, still curled up in the bathtub.

“Alright he’s gone.” he murmurs, stepping forward and reaching for you.

You let out a breath, still a little dazed as his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly. He sets you back down, steadying you on your feet before his hands settle on your waist.

You look up at him, eyes wide. “Oh my God.”

Matt chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “Relax, angel. He had no clue.”

You exhale shakily, running your hands through your hair. The room is still heavy with everything that had happened, and while part of you is still flustered and embarrassed, the other part- the part that’s still warm, still needy- doesn’t want the moment to be over.

Matt watches you carefully, and for a second, you think he’s going to lean in again, that he’s going to pick up where you left off. But then, he sighs, smoothing his hands over your sides.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “We can’t go further right now. Your brother’s waiting for me, and he’s still looking for you.”

You sigh, deflating a little. You know he’s right, but still, the heat swirling in your stomach doesn’t quite go away. “Okay,” you mumble, chewing on your lip.

There’s a brief pause before something else pops into your head, something you don’t quite understand. “Matt?”

He tilts his head slightly. “Yeah?”

You hesitate, shifting on your feet. “What were you… doing? With your… you know…?”

Matt blinks, then raises an eyebrow. “My cock?” he asks bluntly.

Your entire face burns. “Matt!”

He smirks at your reaction, but instead of answering immediately, he reaches down, adjusting the waistband of his sweatpants. You watch confused until he untucks himself, and suddenly, the thick outline of him is tenting out his grey sweatpants prominently.

Your breath catches in your throat.

You stare.

It’s… big.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, a deep, unfamiliar curiosity curling in your stomach. Without even thinking, your hand twitches forward slightly before you stop yourself at the last second, pulling your hand back quickly.

“Sorry,” you blurt out, embarrassed.

But Matt shakes his head immediately, stepping closer. “No, sweetheart. Don’t be sorry,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, coaxing. “Please do.”

Your lips part slightly, your heart hammering in your chest.

“It’ll make me feel good,” he adds, his eyes locked onto yours.

You swallow hard, hesitating just a moment longer before you slowly reach forward again, your fingers lightly wrapping around him through the fabric.

Matt exhales sharply, his head tilting back slightly. “Fuuuck,” he mutters under his breath.

Your fingers tighten slightly, gripping him a little more firmly.

His hands flex at his sides before one of them lifts to grip the counter. “This,” he breathes out, his eyes fluttering shut for a second, “this is another way of knowing that I like it.”

You stare at him, your breath short and quick. “I did this to you?” you whisper.

Matt groans quietly, nodding. “Yeah, angel.”

You blink, still gripping him through his sweatpants, still feeling the heat of him against your palm. You squeeze slightly, watching as his jaw tenses, his breath stuttering.

Your voice is quieter now. “Is it like… how i feel…wet?”

Matt exhales, his fingers twitching against the counter. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Just like that. When you get wet, my dick gets hard.”

Your cheeks burn. “Why does it do that?”

Matt leans in then, his breath warm against your ear, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s your body getting ready for me to be inside you.”

Your entire body locks up, heat flooding your core so intensely that your thighs press together on instinct. Your fingers twitch around him, squeezing his clothed length a little harder.

Matt groans, his head dropping to your shoulder, his breath ragged.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he rasps, his voice strained, “I’m gonna cum if you do that. You’re making me crazy.”

You freeze. “Wait- what?”

Matt lifts his head, exhaling heavily before he leans down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll explain to you another time,” he murmurs. “But for now? Get to bed.”

You nod slowly, still reeling, still confused, still burning. “When will you show me?”

Matt smirks as he watches you hesitate, his voice softer now as he nudges you toward the door.

“Whenever you earn it.”

PT.2 HERE💙

MASTERLIST

for @mattsobvimyfav

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meg-sturniolo · 1 month ago

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Why is this both so cute and so hottt

— sub!matt getting a taste of his own medicine. . .

the loud, needy whines gave it away.

you’d always asked matt not to jerk off when you weren’t present. just because you always wanted to be with him and be able to see him cum. and in return, you didn’t masturbate without him either. that’s just how it worked with you two.

so, given that you were pretty active with matt and you were always around when he’d jerk off, you knew exactly what his moans sounded like when he was doing it. which is why you knew exactly what was occurring when you stood before your bedroom door and heard those high-pitched, filthy sounds echoing from the other side. matt seemed to think he was still home alone.

you quietly twist open the door knob, softly stepping into the room. and there he is. legs slightly spread as he lays on his back, hair tousled, face red. his head is tossed back and his right hand is jerking his cock at a surprisingly fast pace. he doesn’t even know you’re here.

you watch as matt is met with his orgasm—clearly not his first one of the night—and his body violently trembles as high-pitched whimpers spill from his lips. his sticky cum spurts onto his thighs and his lower tummy.

“ahem.”

matt’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice. oh, he’s screwed. for some reason, he’s quick to pull the blanket over himself and cover up—maybe trying to hide the evidence?

“h-how long have you—have you been standing there…?” matt stammers, the tips of his ears burning red. “long enough to know that you touched yourself and came without permission.” you snap, crossing your arms and sauntering over to the side of the bed. matt gulps.

“i—i’m sorry, i just couldn’t—couldn’t wait any longer!” matt pleads, trying to reason with you. he tries to sit up, to which you shove him back down. “no. you disobeyed me, matthew. don’t you know only naughty boys touch themselves without permission? or are you too stupid to know that?” you scold.

matt pouts at that. he opens his mouth to speak again—probably an excuse—but you cut him off before any words can slip out of his mouth. “i think you need to learn how badly it hurts my feelings when you touch yourself without permission,” you say with a faux pout. “sit up.”

matt follows your orders like a damn puppy, scrambling to sit up against the headboard. “oh, now you’re bein’ a good boy.” you tease, running your hand through his hair and tugging slightly.

you walk away from your bed and step into your closet, out of matt’s view. you rummage around until you finally find them—the fuzzy black handcuffs. right next to them was a box. inside was your new dildo you haven’t tried yet. perfect. the universe seemed to be on your side tonight.

you walk back into the bedroom with both in your hand, and matt’s eyes widen like saucers. stepping over to him, you cuff each of his wrists to the bed posts. “maybe if you were a good boy, i wouldn’t have to restrain you. but it seems you can’t be trusted, hm?”

“no, please—“

“be quiet.” you snap, stepping away from the bed. you pull your rolling desk chair right in front of the bed. this whole situation was making you unbelievably wet—you could feel your sticky folds sticking to your panties. you loved punishing matt. because you enjoyed hearing him whine and you liked the power trip it gave you. but most of all, you loved it because deep down, you knew matt was enjoying it.

you peel off your shirt in a deliberately leisure manner, unclasping your bra as well and dropping it onto the floor. matt stares at you in adoration, lips parted, breathing heavy. next is your shorts. you slip them off, dragging them down your thighs tantalizingly slow. matt whines.

“impatient little thing, hm?” you coo, dropping your shorts on the floor with the rest of your clothes. matt tugs at his handcuffs, “please, mama…”

you ignore his pleading, slipping off your soaked panties and tossing them onto the bed by matt’s feet. you grab your dildo from the box, sitting on the chair and spreading your legs wide.

matt’s jaw drops. you looked so beautiful. he desperately tugs at his restraints again, to which you chuckle dryly. you run the silicone tip up and down your slit, teasing matt beyond belief.

finally, you plunge it into yourself, and a loud moan seeps through your lips. matt shudders.

he’s fucked.

so very fucked.

it felt so good. not as good as matt’s cock, but still good. you squeeze your eyes shut, increasing the thrusting pace of the dildo in your hand.

“mama, please—“ matt pleads, his voice cracking in desperation. poor, poor thing. his cock was painfully hard, his tip red and leaking. matt was sweating profusely, despite the shivers running through him as he watched you fuck yourself.

he wanted needed you. needed to be the one making you feel good. not some stupid piece of silicone.

“mmm, feels so good, baby…” you purr, eyes rolling back as you bring your free hand down to rub tight circles on your clit. “wish you could be the one makin’ mama feel this good,” you sigh. “it’s a shame my boy doesn’t know how to follow simple rules.”

matt whines between his ragged breaths, trying his best to sit up to get a better view of you. he tugs slightly at the cuffs, starting to buck his hips up into the air. “m-mama please—i’ll be a good boy i promise! c-can make you feel so good!” he grovels, sounding absolutely wrecked.

the toy inside you starts to hit that sweet spot and it has you teetering on the brink of an orgasm. you finally fixate your squinted eyes on him and realize what a mess he looks.

messy hair—some of it sticking to his forehead from sweat. chest heaving. cheeks flushed. and his hips pathetically bucking up into the air in pure desperation.

matt’s whimpers grow more prominent as your moans get more frequent. you were both going to cum. and only one of you was actually touching yourself. how pathetic.

you rub your finger faster against your clit, chasing your orgasm. just as the tidal wave hits you, a violent shudder runs through your body and a loud mewl accompanies it. but, your sounds aren’t the only ones you’re hearing.

panting, you pull the toy out of yourself and set it down, looking up at matt who’s on the bed. as if on cue, as soon as matt’s eyes meet yours, it simply takes one more buck of his hips for him to let out a pathetic cry, ropes of cum spurting out onto his lower tummy and upper thighs.

“awww. poor thing came just from watching mama get off? that’s pathetic, matthew,” you coo, stalking over to the bed and starting to rid him of his handcuffs. “y’just so perfect, mama…i like seein’ you feel good, even if i’m not always the one doin’ it…” he croons in absolute adoration of you.

god, you’re never getting rid of him.

author’s note. . . hi! sorry this is super short and absolutely horrendous AND not proofread…i’ve had this idea for a while i’m just lazy. im not doing my usual taglist for this one, just people i know for a fact like sub!matt. i hope you liked it im going to sleep now goodnight

🏷️ : @oopsiedaisydeer @luvs4matt @grace-sturnz @strnilolover @adorechris @courta13 @sturnboos @owenstar @mattybsgroupie @tezzzzzzzz @surprisecurlyfriesbackup @theyluvivi @zenithsturniolo

#sub!matt sturniolo

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meg-sturniolo · 1 month ago

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AHHH IT WAS SO GOOD

ⓘ content warnings: smut ⋆ +18 ⋆ age gap ⋆ raw doggin’ ⋆ big dick!matt ⋆ semi-public sex ⋆ (kinda) rough sex ⋆ daddy kink ⋆ partial bondage (wrists) ⋆ breeding kink (?) ⋆ creampie ⋆ praise kink ⋆ (slight) degradation kink ⋆ dacryphilia (?) ⋆ overstimulation ⋆ use of safe word + more.

He isn’t supposed to feel this way.

Matt knows he isn’t supposed to feel this way about his student, but the way you speak to him with your voice all soft and smooth – as if you know what that does to him – or the way you look at him with those damned fuck-me eyes like you want him to sport a hard-on in the middle of the lecture—was making it hard to keep things professional.

He had previously put boundaries between you and made it clear that he isn’t ready to make whatever you had going on more than it already is.

Despite being the one to initiate the stop to your physical relationship, he felt disappointed when you didn’t even complain or beg like he thought you would.

Matt sighed deeply, shaking his head subtly as if that’d get rid of the distracting thoughts he was having in the middle of a lecture.

As he droned on about the topic he is supposed to go through today, he couldn’t help but notice how distracted you were, blatantly flirting with some guy in the third row from the front, batting your eyelashes and smiling so sweetly as you listened to the guy talk.

A muscle in Matt’s jaw twitched, his eyes narrowing when he saw the guy lean in close, his hand casually coming to rest on your arm.

‘Snap out of it Matthew.’ He mentally scolded himself.

But he simply couldn’t focus on teaching with you sitting there, giving fuck-me eyes to some other guy who... is probably more suitable for you than a divorced dad like him.

He was starting to overthink, his anxiety taking over for a split second until you looked his way, your eyes locking with his and your lips curling up with a barely there smirk – in a way that almost seemed like you were taunting him – before you looked back at the guy.

Matt’s eyes darkened when he understood that you were deliberately trying to push his buttons, trying to make him jealous, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t affected.

He was burning with jealousy.

He texted you during a lull in the lecture – where students were either taking notes from the slideshow or doing their own thing – and his mood soured further when you acted like a damned brat.

«read the text messages»

Your breath hitched in your throat as you read his messages and you could see how genuinely pissed off he was even through text.

Your heart pounded against your ribcage as you walked towards Matt’s office, your panties already soaked through due to the way he looked at you during the lecture.

You simply wanted to have fun and see if Matt would care if you flirted with a guy – since he wanted to end their arrangement – but now you wondered if you did the right thing.

A shaky breath full of nerves and excitement exited you as you finally reached his office and slowly opened the door to find him sitting at his desk, his jaw tight, eyes dead and dark.

“Lock the door, sweetheart.” Matt’s voice was low, controlled and eerily calm.

Seeing him so calm had you thrown completely off, and you decided to play it safe and drop the attitude, complying with his request as you closed and locked the door of his office before turning around to face him.

More arousal pooled in your panties from the way he was watching you with those intense, blue eyes of his.

“Come here.”

Your legs moved on their own as you walked towards his desk, feeling like you were fully exposed due to how intensely he was looking at you—shamelessly raking his gaze over your body as if he was undressing you in his mind.

“Sit on my lap.” His expression was unreadable as he spoke, giving way to nothing.

You could be a brat and say no and that he was being unfair, but the way his words flowed out of his mouth so smoothly like honey had your knees weak.

You lowered yourself onto his lap without any complaint, your bare thighs on each side of his hips and your pleated skirt riding up due to the position, showing more of your thighs.

Matt’s hands immediately placed themselves on your thighs, caressing them in a borderline possessive manner that had you feeling like your whole body was burning with desire.

“Did you have fun?” He suddenly asked, catching you off guard and eliciting a confused “what?” from you.

Matt’s lips curled up with a ghost of a smirk, finding your confusion endearing despite the anger and jealousy still lingering in him.

“Did you have fun shamelessly flirting with that guy? Was it exciting to have him eating right out of your fucking palm the moment you gave him those fuck-me eyes?” His jaw muscle ticked at the mere reminder of the guy.

His hands trailed higher up your thighs, making your breath hitch.

“And that damned attitude... Jesus.” Matt chuckled mirthlessly, his grip on your thighs tightening as he leaned forward until your faces were inches apart.

“Should I just fuck it out of you? That bratty fucking attitude of yours?”

Your mouth opened and closed but nothing came out—too stunned by his sudden demeanor to say anything.

He was usually more gentler than this but clearly your attempt to make him jealous affected him more than you thought it would.

“Y-yeah...” You managed to breathe out, not knowing what exactly you were saying yes to but your body screamed for his touch – almost starving for it – which made it difficult to think straight.

Matt’s smirk widened slightly at your shaky agreement, his pupils dilating further. His length strained painfully against the fabric of his jeans, pulsing against your clothed pussy.

His hands confidently trailed up from your thighs to just below your tits, his thumbs grazing the underside of them through your shirt before trailing his hands back down, this time gripping your hips tightly to pull you closer.

“You gonna be a good girl for me? Let me fuck you right here in my office?”

His words had your stomach doing somersaults, and you found yourself nodding, whispering a needy “please, prof”.

A slow grin made its way onto Matt’s lips when he saw your desperation, finding your needy plea equal parts amusing and sexy.

The moment you sank down on his cock, Matt’s hands gripped your hips almost painfully—no doubt leaving marks as he began to lift you up and down repeatedly while thrusting up into you.

“Wearing such a slutty little skirt to class... Did you want me to fuck you like this?”

He panted harshly, his hold on your hips tightening slightly as he used you as he pleased, going so deep it bordered on painful due to his tip pounding against your cervix.

“N-no- didn’t mean— f-fuckk!”

You barely held back a scream as Matt changed his angle, the slight curve of his cock helping him hit that sweet spot inside your gummy walls.

His hips pistoned up into you at an impressive speed, burying his length deep each time.

Matt gritted his teeth, grunting in exertion and looking like a vision in his sexy red sweater and slight scruff that screamed dilf.

Your hand slid down to rub your clit in time with his thrusts as you got closer, your eyes rolling back briefly as your mind flooded with pleasure.

Matt saw the action and his eyes darkened, his jealousy rearing its ugly head.

Only he could touch you.

It was an absurd thing to think, but in this moment everything made him jealous, even your own clothes for always being wrapped around you.

Matt stopped abruptly, causing you to stop moving too.

You stared at him in confusion as he took his belt – which was placed neatly on his desk – and bound your wrists behind your back.

You were slightly taken back, but you were definitely not against it.

“Kinky,” you teased, but he wasn’t having any of it.

“Shut up.” He snapped.

“Safe word.” Matt looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to tell him a word, but you just stared at him, confusion etched on your face.

“Safe word?” You repeated dumbly.

“Tell me a safe word... because I don’t know if I can stop myself from ruining this sweet pussy for anyone else.”

He was dead serious—and that had your body shuddering in excitement.

“My lecturer is hot.”

His brows furrowed at the sentence, but then a lazy, dangerous grin spread across his lips.

“You’re not taking this seriously.” His words were eerily calm, almost like he was taunting you for being so stupid—like he knew he’ll reduce you to nothing more than whimpers and moans.

Oh you were so so naïve.

Matt was fucking you so hard that you were seeing literal sparks behind your eyes every time he went deep.

“Oh fuck! I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum-- daddy, fuuuckk—”

Your thighs trembled as you began moving your hips in time with his thrusts, chasing after that sweet release.

“What did you just call me?”

Matt suddenly stopped moving, eliciting a needy whine of protest from you. His voice dropped an octave lower when he spoke again, becoming huskier, giving way to how much your word affected him.

“Daddy? Is that what you just said?”

“S-sorry, it just slipped out... I-”

You breathed heavily, your chest heaving with ragged breaths. Your whole body felt like it was on fire and the pressure that was building in your abdomen slowly subsided due to lack of stimulation.

Matt couldn’t believe how much you calling him daddy turned him on and he needed to hear you say it again.

He began to fuck you in earnest, his arm wrapping tightly around your waist to keep you from squirming as his tip kissed your cervix with each hard thrust.

His free hand tangled in your hair and pulled you down into a heated kiss—all tongue and teeth.

Matt pulled back and whispered harshly against your lips, his voice deeper than usual.

“Call me that again.”

And you did.

“Daddy—ffuuckk--”

You chocked back a moan when he began to fuck you faster, his hips slapping against your thighs and creating loud wet smacks.

Matt groaned low in his throat when he heard your desperate mewls and whimpers, the sounds of your pleasure only making him fuck you harder.

“M’gonna-” Your breath hitched, “Cum-- Matt, sh-shit—shit!”

Your whole body tensed – mouth opening in a silent scream, back arching – as the first wave of your orgasm crashed over you. Warmth spread in your tummy, pleasure coursing throughout your whole body.

Your mind blanked with pleasure, zeroing in on the feeling of his cock still plowing in and out of you, hitting your sweet spots.

He fucked you through your orgasm, relishing in the sight of your eyes rolling back in pure, unadulterated, bliss as tears of pleasure streamed down your cheeks.

“Oh, fuuckkk, you’re squeezing my dick soo good.” Matt groaned, feeling himself growing closer thanks to the feeling of your inner walls spasming around his sensitive shaft.

The sight of your tears was making his balls draw tight, his climax approaching quickly.

“Gonna cum,” Matt warned, “Need to fill up this pretty pussy and stuff you full of my cum— fuuck--”

His movements became jerky and uncoordinated as he got closer to the edge, fucking you in sharp, deep thrusts.

His hips stuttered as he came deep inside you, eyes rolling back briefly before closing shut, mouth opening in an "o" shape. His load painted your velvet walls white as you milked his cock dry.

But Matt didn’t stop there.

His need to make you his and knock you up were too strong.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he growled softly and his eyes snapped open—blue orbs basically black with desire.

“Need more... You can take more, can’t you sweetheart?”

You found yourself unable to say no even though you were too sensitive—his words and the primal look in his eyes had you feeling like you might as well just let him knock you up.

Watching you nod, Matt lips curled up with a satisfied smirk.

“Good girl.” He whispered, fingers gripping your hips so tightly that you were sure you’d have bruises tomorrow.

He fucked you through your fifth orgasm – having cum thrice himself – not letting you catch your breath. You felt your nerves burning with overstimulation—your body overwhelmed by the pleasure he was giving you.

“l-lecturer—mmh-ah—is hot... my lecturer- my lecturer is hot!” You cried out, feeling yourself trembling with overstimulation.

Matt snapped out of it at the sound of your trembling voice, his gaze softening profusely when he heard you struggling to say your safe word.

“Should’ve picked a shorter one.” He murmured breathlessly, a hint of teasing in his tone. He slowed down before stopping completely, pulling you into a surprisingly gentle kiss.

Matt pulled out slowly – hissing softly against your lips at how sensitive you both were – before gently freeing your wrists from the makeshift handcuffs he made out of his belt, rubbing your reddening wrists.

He pulled you closer and your body immediately melted into him, making him hold you tighter against his chest as he nuzzled his face into your hair, inhaling your sweet scent mixed with your perfume and the musky scent of sex.

“Good girl,” Matt whispered against your hair, “My good girl.”

✰ english is not my first language! || wc: 2.2k ✰

Isa’s rambling ۶ৎ My bad for taking so long to finish this fic but your girl was having a hard time writing for some reason like I didn’t have an ounce of motivation, but I finally finished it and I feel like I kinda rushed the ending ’cause I wanted to post it today.

⟢ lecturer!matt taglist: @blahbel668 @ribread03 @sturniologals @annedebeijer @sleazy-1 @m0r94n @cherryswifeyy @lvrsturniolo @iluvnicksturniolo @sturniolosluttt @sophand4n4 @squishybxg @matts-247 @lifecansmd @zokhlyxo @v33ang3l @jibitzlesscrocs @oopsiedaisydeer @shortnsweetsturnz @sagesturns @corspebridedelrey @anonymouslyachrisgirl @heartsforvin @lvrsturniolo @poolover123 @trustinsturniolos @mattsturnsgirlie @riannas-stuff @sturnboos @whore4-chrissturniolo @crazy4weeed @chrismoans @chlosallow @juless-is-elsa @nai2two @natesfavoritehoe @ineedchrisbadly @l0s3rhaha @fwsecret @lyingbymalcom

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meg-sturniolo · 1 month ago

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Omg I'm here from smut before I read it and im so excited to read it now!!!

── Random texts with lecturer!matt

ⓘ suggestive remarks ⬩ age gap ⬩ light angst + more.

Isa’s rambling ۶ৎ Lecturer!matt lowkey pmo like why can't he js let go for once, but I understand his worries and ugh I hate slowburns but I also love them

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meg-sturniolo · 2 months ago

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This dude something to me 😨😳😳😳

❛❛𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐈𝐓❜❜ ⋆⸜ 🍓₊ ⊹ c.s

in which… tensions are high during chris' fitting

fwb!chris x bambi!reader

you would describe yourself as a pretty strong woman, but even the strongest of soldiers would fold at the predicament you were currently in.

the dim lights of the dressing room shined down on you—crouched on your knees, double checking the measurements of chris' clothes and him leaning against the wall— eyes burning holes into the crown of your head, praying to god that you would look up at him.

the room was barley big enough for one body, let alone two and tension so thick it made it harder to breathe than it already was.

the soft ruffle of the demi fabric and chris' ragged breaths were the only sounds that could be heard while he allowed you to tug and adjust the pants you'd stitched for him. some baggy dark washed jeans, designed and distressed by hand and some red patch work on the back. you paired it with a boxy white tee and layered at burgundy flannel over it, logo stitched on the right side of his chest.

"okay," you muttered, more to yourself than chris, "they fit better than i expected, i won't have to do too much."

chris nods— still staring at the pile of curls, lips twitching into a lazy smirk. "so whatcha' thinking, i look good?"

and finally, he's met with those big brown eyes he claims he’s not obsessed with. even slightly annoyed and rolling they still sparkled.

“you look good…” you trailed off, nodding your head in approval, and eyes smiling, he could tell you were scheming something.

“only cause you’re in my clothes though”

“oh fuck off—” he circles his head as he tongue pokes his cheek, attempting to hold his laugh, “you know i always look good, i do really fuck with this though.”

and he wasn’t wrong, it actually mind boggles you how he managed to look good at all times and it was something particular about today that made you want to risk everything, especially in this position.

“thanks,” you clear your throat, going back to mumbling under your breath, it all being too much for you right now.

“imagine me in nothing though, shit would be insane.”

you stop in your tracks— quickly bringing your focus back to the pants and blinking rapidly at his words. you let out a awkward chuckle, already feeling heat rise up your cheeks and flutters in your stomach, “chris, stop talking.”

“no that’s boring, why’re you being so quiet?” he whines out.

“because your aren’t usually this close.”

it was chris’ turn to pause in his tracks, not believing what just came out of your mouth. flashbacks began flooding his mind. him feeling you up on the couch, making out in his car, eating you out in the kitchen, did you forget or was he going crazy. “eh, we both know that’s a lie.”

“well i like to keep my work professional, so yes we’re too close,” you go on a little rant, getting too comfortable with your movements and accidentally grazing his crotch with your knuckles.

you both freeze.

chris let’s out a stuttered breath, his eyes darkening just enough to shift the air. his body’s gone completely stiff and he clears his throat like was trying to swallow whatever noise about to escape his lips. he was undeniably flustered, but beneath the surprise was heat— slowly building and reckless, tugging at every bit of patience he had left.

“and you wanna talk about professional?”

it was like you short circuited. out of everything that could happen this had to be the worse case senario. pulling your hands back as if you just touched a hot stove, your eyes went wide and heart thudded in your ears. "oh my— sorry, i'm so so sorry, swear i didn't mean to touch you like that."

chris stupidly grinned at your panicked state, "nah you're wild."

"chris you know i would never—" before you could continue your plea he started to laugh in your face, taking a step closer to you.

"i know, just fuckin with you, keep going."

his finger reached down, brushing over that same spot you'd touched, holding your gaze and not saying a word.

your breath hitched, the warm scent of mahogany, vanilla and weed remained infiltrating your senes, making you all dizzy and you could feel the heat seeping through his boxers. chris was making it incredibly hard for you to do your job and it wasn't helping that he wouldn't look away, biting his lip at you like he was ready to munch.

your voice cracked, "i-i just have to pin the hem right quick."

his head tilted, that cocky grin playing on his plump— pink lips, he was having a fucking filed day, watching your hands shake, fumbling with the hem of his pants, moving slower than normal, it was like you were teasing him.

your fingers continued to work, removing and replacing pins until they simply couldn't anymore. chris is whimpering at your every move and his pants actively tenting in your face.

your hands pause and you sat staring at the mount before you, mouth watering and your mind ridden with filth.

"you see it," his voice was rough but quiet, dripping in lust, his tone insisting like he he had this obvious read on you.

job completely forgotten, your hands ghosted over his bulge, staring up with pleading eyes and him staring back with knitted brows, trying to recall if you've even done something like this.

"y'wanna put that pretty mouth to work instead?"

you subtly nodded and gaze going unbroken as you start to shift from side to side, core tingling and arousal pooling beneath you.

chris licks his lips and gently soothes your hair down, "go ahead sweetheart."

your hands are immediate but painfully slow, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down with his boxers in one motion, cock springing out on queue and slapping his lower abdomen. you couldn't help but to let out a shaky sigh, you'd imagined him to be decently sized but clearly he exceeded your expectations.

"mmh— y’think you can take it," chris grunts as you began to jerk his dick with your nicely manicured hands.

"i can take it"

his eyes now gone wide, evidently you were full of surprises as well. you form an "O" shape with your mouth, wrapping your glossed lips around his dick, taking him at full. chris bunches your hair, using his hand as a ponytail holder before throwing his head back on the wall, "fuuuck."

𓂃⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ 𝒯𝒜𝒢𝐿𝐼𝒮𝒯 𓂅 @sturns-mermaid @riasturns @badgallrora @sheluvsthesturniolos @courta13 @stvrniolotrxpl3ts @mattslolita @sweetheartsangel @leaningoutthewindow @sophand4n4 @chaossturns @jetaimevous

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meg-sturniolo · 2 months ago

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Omg this is so sweet!!!

Bro I'm in such a lovey dovey phase rn.

Like I'm on a focus-on-myself kick rn, I need to focus on my studies and I'm really busy and fine just on my own

But this shit ... Reminds me of my biggest fear of being alone forever lmaooo

I need sweet couple stuff

𝘄𝗲𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 - 𝗰.𝘀 ☆

𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴: 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 ( 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘬! ) 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥, 𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 ( 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘺, 𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘢 ), 𝘴𝘶𝘣!𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 <3

𝘱𝘳é𝘤𝘪𝘴: 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.

𝘢/𝘯: 𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘮𝘮𝘮𝘮. 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺, 𝘺'𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘱 𝘪𝘯. 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯 2𝘬+ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘩𝘦. 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰, 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘮 𝘢 "𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘺, "𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘺, "𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘺," 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭. 𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩.

𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘪 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 1000 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴! 𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺'𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵! 🤍

it was everything you could possibly imagine. the way your dress sparkled, the veil beautifully sheer, your blushing bridesmaids, the spectacular venue—everything was perfect. It was your dream wedding, the exact way you dreamed about it when you were a little girl.

you dreamed of marrying an amazing man. handsome, kind, a dreamer, a charmer, family-oriented, goofball, and easy on the eyes. that’s exactly what you did. tears dwelled in your eyes as you approached your groom standing at the altar. there he was, he was perfect. you watched how he wiped tears from his eyes. smiling ear to ear, that perfect smile. your father kissed your head as he placed your veil behind your salon styled hair. he shook your about to be husbands hand and walked off.

you stared at your future husband. those dashing blue eyes. you couldn’t believe they were set on you for the rest of your life. “do you christopher owen sturniolo, take her as your forever bride? to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”

“i do.” chris weeped, grabbing on to your hands if they were his grasp onto life.

“do you take christopher owen sturniolo as your forever husband? o have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”

“i do.” you smiled happily, trying not to streak your makeup with your tears.

“as the power vested in me, i do pronounce you husband and wife. you may now kiss your bride.”

immediately, chris wrapped his arm around your waist and placed his lips onto yours for a sweet kiss. the first one for the rest of your lives. you laid your hands onto his face, rubbing his cheek with your thumbs. you met those blue eyes. god those blue eyes. you felt like you were floating on cloud nine. happily ever after.

the after party was beautiful, glamorous, and most importantly. extremely memorable. family and friends danced all night as well as you and chris. there were some cheeky games played, one in particular was bypassed. the one where the groom takes his wife's panties from under the dress. your kinky friends bombarded you with pressure, “come on, get in the chair!” “yeah, girl, let him get under the hood!” your cheeks raced with pink hue from embarrassment. well, you saved yourself for marriage. so did chris.

there was casual make outs, heated groping sessions and maybe you did get a little tipsy at a party and allowed chris to suck on your tits like a hungry animal but that was all. you guys kept that promise to each other. until marriage.

the party died down after a couple of hours. chris was at a table with his brothers and close guy friends. “this is it, chris! you’re gonna know what a man feels like.” matt grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “yeah, dude, i can’t believe you waited twenty-four years for sex. that’s crazy.” nathan laughed. “literally, i lost my shit years ago.” nick chimed in.

chris smiled sheepishly and rolled his eyes. “alright alright, you horny fucks. quit bothering me. go home.” "hey, let me know how it goes!” matt yelled from across the ballroom as he walked out. “a man doesn’t kiss and tell!” chris yelled back.

you were with your bridesmaids, basically having the same conversation. they wished you goodbye as you and chris were the last ones to leave while the party workers stayed to clean.

“are you ready to go home, ms sturniolo?” christopher smiled and gave you his arm to latch onto you.

you rolled your eyes jokingly and accepted his hold. “yes, mr sturniolo.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

the drive to the hotel was … tense. if you put it in that way. chris tapped his fingers on the steering wheel non-stop. while you cracked your knuckles and stared out the window.

“babe, are you okay?” chris finally spoke, the silence breaking.

“yeah!” your voice cracked, the nervousness clearly noticed.

“if you’re thinking about the same thing i am, it’s okay. we don’t have too.” “we can spend the night here or even go home.” he reassured you, grabbing your hand to calm your nerves.

“no, no it’s not that. it’s just the fact that we’re actually going to do it you know? like it’s gonna be applicable. like, we can do it? we’re allowed?” you blabbed.

chris chuckled and glanced at you. “calm down, we have the rest of our lives. if you would like too, i am extremely down too. if you’re not sure, we can cuddle and order food.”

“can i think about it?” you pressed your lips in a thin line. looking up at him, scared to see his reaction. it was his wedding night too you know.

“of course.” he stopped at a red light. he kissed the top of your head and sat back in his chair.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

at the hotel, chris was undoing his tie and dialing the room service number. “ babe, they have a sweet bbq burger with curly fries! do you think they’re pepsi or coke people? if they’re coke, we’re taking the soaps.”

you were currently in the bathroom, pulling the bobby pins out your hair and removing your makeup. “i feel like you were going to take the soaps regardless, chris.” you giggled.

“do you wanna split the burger with a small pizza?” chris creeped around the corner of the doorway like a little kid.

you nodded your head yes as you wiped your eye makeup off.

chris smiled and walked back to the bed. you closed the door quietly and locked it. behind the door was a black dress bag. you unzipped it. it was a lacy, white wedding styled lingerie dress. you bought this a couple weeks before the wedding. you didn’t anticipate this amount of nervousness though.

you slipped out of your after-party dress and stockings. quietly putting on the white outfit. you looked beautiful, pure, absolutely stunning. sexy, might i add myself. ( a/n ;D )

“chris?” you looked over the doorway. chris was on the phone, reading the menu. “great, thank you!”

“baby, the food is gonna be here in an hour. crazy but i guess it’s better than fighting over a beef burger like nick did. that was extremely funny.” chris laughed while he took off his suit jacket, he was left in his white button up and dress pants.

“chrissy?” you hummed gently, coming out from the restroom. standing with your hands behind your back.

chris looked up and saw you. his pupils dilated, black almost covering the gorgeous blue. “hey, wow. oh wow.” he walked over to you, admiring how the dress fit on you. it was loose and ended right above your panty line.

“you look amazing.” he stared gawky at your nipples peeking through the silk.

“i’m ready. are you?” you sang, walking closer to him, making him sit on the bed, you crawled onto his lap. the sweetness in your voice made his pants tighter.

you placed your lips on his, running your hands in his long hair. his hands immediately grabbing your ass.

“fuck, there’s no way you’re mine.” chris breathed heavily, his lips slightly parted.

“until death to us part.” you smiled and kissed him once more, a sweet kiss that got heavier and deeper. chris bit your bottom lip softly so he could slip his tongue in.

you adjusted yourself a bit so you could sit on his crotch, his boner restrained in his tight dress pants. you pulled back from the kiss, your lips kissing down to his neck. leaving small love bites and dark marks.

chris groaned and licked his lips. moving your hips with his hands for some friction on his crotch. “ma’, you don’t know how long i’ve imagined this.”

you looked down at the dick print in his pants, palming it gently. “actually, i could.” you teased. unbuttoning his pants and unzipping his zipper.

his dick moved a little, you pulled down the black boxers and watched how it almost hit his stomach. you gasped, you had never seen him like this. “you’re so big,” you whispered. you wrapped your soft hand around it, moving it slowly,

“fuck.” chris whispered under his breath. he watched as you were mesmerized with his cock. the first one in your hand was his and will only be his.

he lifted your head up with his hands, he kissed you again as you continued pumping his cock. glistening with pre-cum.

“baby, give me a second. i-i don’t want to cum yet,” he whined under your touch. you stood up and stared straight into his eyes. slipping the sheer dress off. you were standing in front of him, all in your glory. bare. the only things that covered you were confidence and complete arousal.

chris immediately pulled off his pants and boxers. he fiddled with his the first button on his shirt. “fuck, fuck.” “you’re gorgeous.” “holy fuck.” you smiled gently, coming up to him and unbuttoning his shirt and you connect your lips together. he pulled the shirt back and dropped it on the floor. immediately, laying onto the soft bed. the bed frame made a noise from both of your weight.

you sat on his lap, his body against the mattress. giving a perfect view of your tits. chris looked so innocent. his eyes like a puppy. he prompted himself up and sucked on your nipple. you ran your hand through his hair; weirdly, you felt so confident. you liked how chris looked at you so submissively.

he sucked on your nipple lovingly, whining when you pulled back. “you like my tits baby?” “yes ma.” he whined, his cheeks pink. “do you really want to be my first chrissy?” you tangled his brown hair, he looked fucked out from nothing yet. “yes, please!”

“show me.” you were aroused by your own words. your cunt dripped as you had chris around your finger. he’d latch onto your words like a fucking puppy. “go ahead. fuck me.”

you climbed off him as he climbed over you. you spread your legs, pushing them against the mattress. chris watched your exposed pussy. it glistened with your own arousal. his mouth watered. he lowered himself down, grabbing your inner thighs and kissed them. getting closer to your cunt. “chrissy.” you hummed, pulling on his hair.

chris kissed your pussy. licking your sensitive area in circles. his lips covered in your wetness. “chris!” you moaned, extremely new to the feeling.

kissing and slurping on your clit. his nose rubbed the top a bit. your legs closed due to the pleasure, almost trapping his head in between yourself. “baby,” you moaned, gripping onto his hair, “chrissy, it’s so good!“

“chris, chris, chris!” you moaned. god, having your pussy ate for the first time felt fucking ethereal. you were a mess. you couldn’t shut the fuck up. you babbled countless “fuck”s and seethed his name as you felt your orgasm approach. this didn’t feel like anything compared to your fingers or vibrator.

chris didn’t stop, he seemed like he was entranced in your pussy. slurping like a starving animal. feigning for your orgasm to cover his face.

“chris baby, it’s so good. im gonna fucking-! chris!” you moaned, feeling the orgasm run you over like a fucking truck. your pussy clenched around nothing — yet. your cum drowning chris’s face. he smacked and sucked all over your pretty pink clit.

“baby~” you couldn’t take it anymore. you needed all of him. now.

chris came up, his lips covered in your cum. he licked his lips and kissed you hungrily. “mama, i need you right now. it hurts so bad,” he whimpered in your ear, his cock in hand. his tip puckered pre-cum, desperately needing to be instead your dripping cunt.

“go, go, baby.” “right now, i need it now,” you breathed out. god, chris looked so god damn hot. his neck covered in small hickeys and faint red lipstick kisses. his lips were pink, almost a swollen color, as his hair was a mess. brown locks covering his forehead and those eyes. those beautiful blue eyes.

he kneeled and aligned himself with your pussy. ‘baby, do you think you’ll need my fingers?” chris questioned. “no, i need you.” you whined, your pussy clenched around nothing again.

chris nodded his head and thrust extremely, painfully, and slowly. only his tip is going in. the stretch opened you painfully. “chris!” “i know, mama, i know. give it a second.” he kissed your pink lips and went in a little more. “honey~” you whined, grabbing onto the back of his neck. it felt so good, but it hurt like a bitch. luckily, you were extremely wet, so the natural lube welcomed chris easily.

“can i move?” chris whispered, inches from your face. your eyes were pressed together, a small tear ran down your cheek. “yes, please.”

chris thrusted in slowly, your pussy sucked him in. it felt amazing, “m-mama’s” chris moaned, feeling how your pussy felt. sopping and tight. his first time with his beautiful girl. he couldn’t feel anymore safe.

chris thrusted slowly, catching a rhythm. moaning gently in your ear. “s-so good, mama. i-it’s so good.” you held onto his hair. wrapping your legs around him. your nipples hardened, your stomach tightened. the delicious feeling of his large cock pumping inside you. you'd bite your lip in euphoric pleasure. god, you couldn't get enough. "fuck baby, j-just like that."

the familiar feeling coming up again, your back arched from the bed. your hand let go of his hair and went down to your clit. chris’s cock penetrating that sweet spot inside of you. he'd plant wet, sloppy kisses on your chest and tits. god, he loved them so much. “chris! i-im gonna!” you moaned. the bed frame hitting the wall. you felt sorry for your neighbors, well. it was your wedding night, anyways.

chris bit his lip, suppressing his moans. “no, no baby. i wanna hear you cum.” you noticed. chris whimpered in your ear. “im gonna cum baby. it’s so close.” his stomach was in knots as his load was building.

“cum in me baby. i trust you.” you smiled gently; the pleasure and the sweetness, the vulnerability made your eyes water. chris pumped sloppily as you rubbed your clit faster. “fuck!” chris moaned, painting your insides with his white load. your release came right after. you pussy clenched around him. your second orgasm feeling more intense than your first.

chris laid on top of you, kissing your chest and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. "i love you so much mama."

letting yourself catch your breath, you play with his hair. "i love you so much more." chris looked up, planting a sweet gentle kiss on your lips.

"you wanna go again?" he asked, his eyes full of love.

"we gotta do something before the food gets here."

🏷 : --

#sub!chris sturniolo

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meg-sturniolo · 2 months ago

Text

!!!

⮱ chew more gum, you're sexy - matt sturniolo

640 words — smut, sub matt, dry humping, gum kink (?? lol)

a/n: SUB MATT SUB MATT SUB MATTTTT AHAHAHAHAH. anyways this was inspired by this edit

matt ends his stream with a sigh, tossing his headphones onto the desk. his hoodie’s all bunched at the sleeves, hair flattened where the headset sat too long. he yawns as he walks over, rubbing at his eyes.

you’re stretched out on his bed, phone in hand, barely paying attention—until you catch a glimpse of his mouth.

his lips part around a yawn, and your stomach flips.

he’s chewing gum.

slow. lazy. the way his jaw works—sharp, a little slack. his tongue flicks the gum to the side, wet and glistening.

your thighs press together without thinking.

“c’mere, baby,” you murmur, keeping your voice steady, casual. but your fingers twitch where they rest on the blanket.

he climbs onto the bed and drops into you without hesitation, head tucked under your chin like muscle memory. you slide your hand under his hoodie, dragging your nails lightly down his spine. he shivers.

“y’know what chat was saying?” he mumbles, gum thick in his mouth, words slightly slurred.

you hum, eyes dropping back to his mouth.

“they said… gum’s sexy.”

you let out a quiet breath, amused—but not disagreeing. not with the way your pulse jumps every time his jaw shifts. not with how your core clenches when his tongue flicks out between sentences.

“they’re right.”

he looks up at you, all sleep-heavy and slow-blinking. his cheek nudges your chest—and pauses. you feel him freeze when his face presses just right against your nipple through your shirt.

you smirk.

your fingers slide up his neck, grip his jaw.

“open your mouth.”

his lips part instantly. tongue out, gum slick and shiny, spit stringing from the corner of his mouth.

your breath catches.

“fuck,” you mutter, eyes locked on his mouth.

his breathing gets heavier. his hips shift just enough for you to feel it—he’s hard. pressing against your thigh, barely moving but there.

“ma…” he breathes, soft and shaky.

you know that voice. you’ve already got him.

“what do you need, sweet thing?”

his eyes flutter. he grabs at your waist, fingers tightening like he’s desperate for something solid.

“n-need you. please.”

he grinds once, barely more than a roll of his hips—but it makes you both gasp. he’s not subtle. his cock’s already leaking through the thin fabric of his sweats.

you tilt his chin again, keeping him right there, gum still on his tongue.

“you’re so needy, baby,” you murmur.

he whines.

and then he’s humping your thigh—sloppy, messy, rutting like he can’t stop himself. his forehead presses to your chest, mouth open against your shirt.

“mommy…”

it’s barely a whisper, but the second it slips out, he gasps like it shocked him.

you’re fucking soaked.

“just like that,” you tell him, breath hot in his ear. “keep going. you’re doing so good for me.”

he moans, louder this time. hips speeding up, cock dragging over your thigh with every grind. it’s filthy. his sweats are already darkening with precum, soaking through.

you grab his face. force his eyes on you.

his lips are wet. his chin’s shiny. his hair’s a mess and his eyes are completely gone.

“show me,” you coo.

he opens his mouth. tongue out. gum still there.

you kiss him—hard. shove your tongue past his lips and take the gum, swapping spit as he whimpers into your mouth. his fingers clutch your hips like he’s about to fall apart.

“g–gonna—fuck,” he chokes, grinding so fast it’s almost desperate.

“do it,” you whisper, nipping his jaw. “make a mess.”

his hips jerk once, twice—then he groans into your chest, cock twitching as he cums in his sweats, loud and breathless, grinding through it with shaky, sloppy thrusts.

you don’t say anything at first. just hold him there. let him breathe. let his body go limp against you.

after a moment, he looks up, cheeks flushed, gum gone, mouth wrecked.

“…i’m gonna chew gum every day.”

🏷: @drewswife @k4urltzx @courta13 @briizysturn @y2kstarr @chriscantwhisper @tezzzzzzzz @adorechris @sturnns-world @dolliraez

divider by @toastray

#sub!matt sturniolo

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meg-sturniolo · 2 months ago

Text

Hell yea

Followed

⮱ against the sink - chris sturniolo

569 words — swearing, smut, degradation, praise, pet names, getting caught

a/n: shh I'm ovulating gimme a kiss

"s-so deep, fuck," you whimper, your desperate voice echoing off the cool, gleaming bathroom tiles. chris has you bent over the sink, the porcelain edge digging into your lower tummy.

he’s fucking you relentlessly, his thrusts deep and unforgiving. you can’t stop the desperate whimpers that escape you, but he doesn't care, his only focus on you, on pushing you further into bliss.

"mmgh—so good for me, baby," he groans, his voice rough and dripping with lust. his grip on your hip tightens, and his other hand tangles in your hair, tugging until your scalp screams. every thrust hits deeper, and the pressure has your head spinning. you can feel him bottoming out in you, making your eyelids flutter and your thighs shake with each pounding thrust.

"chris, oh—" you gasp, but he silences you with a sharp smack to your ass, the sting making you yelp, your back arching in pleasure.

he lowers his lips near your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he pounds into you harder, his rhythm relentless. your pussy grips him in a vice-like hold, pulling him back in with each stroke.

"such a pretty little slut for me, hmm?" he rasps, tugging even harder on your hair, his words dripping with desire. your moans get louder, rawer, each one more guttural as you grip the edge of the sink for leverage.

a frustrated groan escapes him as he pulls out abruptly, his hands gripping your thighs so tightly it feels like they might bruise. he flips you around without warning, the sudden change making your head spin, but he doesn’t pause.

he shoves his throbbing cock back inside you, filling you to the brim, and you gasp, your legs locking around his waist as he holds you steady against the sink. the way he’s looking at you—eyes full of dark lust—makes your pulse race.

"you’re my pretty fucking bitch," he grunts, each word punctuated with a hard thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. "shiiiit...gonna fill you up so good, ma..."

every push is deeper, harder, his cock sliding inside you so smoothly it makes you tremble. you can feel the tension building in your core, your body begging for release.

his thrusts turn sloppy, each one coming faster and more erratic as his breathing grows ragged, his muscles tense. you feel him getting close—his grip on you tightening as his thrusts become desperate.

with one final thrust and a guttural groan, he explodes inside of you, his thick cum flooding your walls as you tighten around him, riding out your own release with a loud moan. you can feel every pulse of his seed, every rush of pleasure as he fills you completely.

you both stay like that for a moment, bodies pressed together, both of you breathing heavily, your hearts pounding in unison. his head rests on your shoulder, lips pressing soft kisses against your sweaty skin, his hands gently brushing over your body as he catches his breath.

"you're so fucking perfect..." chris breathes, barely able to speak through his exhaustion, but before he can finish his praise, a loud knock at the door rips through the intimacy of the moment.

you freeze in his arms, eyes wide, and panic bubbles in your chest. matt’s voice rings out from the other side, dripping with annoyance.

"some of us actually have shits to take, whores!"

🏷 taglist: @drewswife @k4urltzx @courta13 @briizysturn @y2kstarr

divider by @omi-resources

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meg-sturniolo · 2 months ago

Text

!!!

Got on Tumblr feeling the need for some hot sub shit bc I just saw a really hot edit of Chris lol

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTjdqPQRM/

And this fic is perfectttt

⮱ teach me how to whimper - chris sturniolo

1.8k words — swearing, sub chris, dry humping

a/n: I love edging horny bitches

you’ve thought about it way too many times. the way chris's jaw clenches when he’s annoyed, the cocky little smirk he always wears, and how he’s always pushing your buttons. but now, as you stand in front of him with that teasing grin on your face, it’s different. it’s a whole new thing, this pull between you two, thick and heavy.

“you sure you wanna do this?” you ask, a teasing edge in your voice. you're leaning against the doorframe, watching him stand there, all riled up but trying to act unaffected. his eyes flicker over you, full of that same damn cocky confidence he always carries around, like he could take on the world and still look effortlessly hot doing it.

he shrugs, his smirk widening. “i mean, i’m always down to show you how it’s done.”

you raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “you’ve got a lot of confidence for someone who has no idea how to whimper.”

“pfft. i don’t need to whimper,” chris shoots back, his voice dripping with that typical arrogance. “i can make you beg without doing that.”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the laugh that bubbles up. “sure you can, hotshot. but let’s make it fun. let’s see if you can do it.”

chris looks at you for a second, lips curling up at the corners. “and what do i get out of it?”

“you get the satisfaction of knowing you can do something i’ve never asked anyone else to do.” you let the silence hang in the air, letting him feel the weight of it. “that’s a pretty big win in my book.”

he tilts his head, his gaze flickering over you like he’s weighing whether he’s about to make a mistake. then, with a smirk, he shrugs. “fine. show me what you want me to do.”

you step closer, slowly, every movement deliberate. the tension between you is practically crackling now, and you can feel the heat from his body pressing against yours as you stop in front of him. there’s a challenge in your eyes, something teasing, and you can’t wait to see how he reacts.

“start by making it soft,” you say, your voice low, like you’re coaxing him into something. “a little needy. think desperation. you want to sound like you need it.”

he frowns, confused for a second. “you’re insane,” he mutters under his breath. but there’s a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “this is gonna be a joke.”

“just try,” you insist, taking a step back and watching him closely. “don’t overthink it.”

he shifts, awkward at first, trying to wrap his head around what you’re asking. he lets out a forced noise, barely anything at all, before glancing up at you like he’s waiting for you to approve.

“seriously?” you ask, your lips curling into a smile. “that’s not even close. you can do better.”

“you’re being impossible,” he grumbles, but his voice is tight, like he’s trying not to show that it’s getting to him.

“i’m being serious,” you say, crossing your arms again. “i don’t care about the ‘cocky act.’ you’re gonna whimper like you mean it, chris.”

you’re so fucking close to him now, so close you can feel the heat radiating off his body. you’re not even touching him, but the electricity in the air is enough to make your heart race.

he takes another deep breath, clearly trying to get out of his own head, and you watch as he closes his eyes for a second, focusing on the task. then, the sound comes—a quiet, almost imperceptible whimper. it’s there, but barely.

you tilt your head, not impressed. “nope, not it. you can do better.”

he mutters something under his breath, and you hear the frustration in his voice now. “this is stupid.”

but you’re loving every second of it. watching him falter, watching him try to get this right, it’s turning you on more than you want to admit.

“think about it,” you say, taking a step closer again. “you’re supposed to sound desperate, chris. needy. think about how bad you want it.”

he glares at you, eyes flashing with something almost too intense. “you really wanna hear it that bad?”

you lean in, so close you can feel his breath on your skin. “i do,” you whisper.

he hesitates for just a second before letting out another sound, this one deeper, a little more genuine. it’s better this time, and you can feel the heat between you two shift, that invisible line you’ve both been skirting finally beginning to blur.

“better,” you say, your voice almost teasing as you step back again. “but you’re still not there. come on, chris. i know you can do it.”

he takes a sharp breath, looking at you like he’s trying to figure out whether this is all some big game or if there’s something else happening here. and you know exactly what that look means. he’s not sure if he’s winning or losing, but he’s in it now.

“you’re insane,” he mutters again, but this time there’s something softer in his voice, something almost pleading. “tell me what you want.”

you smile, leaning in closer again, your lips brushing his ear as you whisper, “whimper like you fucking need it.”

he shudders, eyes closing as he lets out a real sound this time, a soft, needy whimper that makes your heart race. the tension snaps between you, and for a moment, it feels like everything stops. just the two of you, and this moment that’s been building forever, finally reaching its breaking point.

he opens his eyes, staring at you like you just broke him. “there,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “happy?”

you nod slowly, your smile turning into something darker. “yeah. i think you’re starting to get it.”

the tension in the air is thick enough to choke on. your bodies are still pressed close, the heat of him radiating against you, his breath ragged against your neck.

but now, it’s your turn. you don’t know what exactly comes over you, but you need to feel control. you need to see him break, feel him under you. you’re done waiting.

you pull back, just enough to meet his eyes—wide, searching, desperate. his lips part, like he’s about to say something, but you don’t give him the chance. without warning, you shift, climbing onto his lap, straddling him in one fluid motion.

his eyes widen, like he wasn’t expecting this. his hands immediately grip your hips, but you catch his wrists, holding them there for a second, feeling that subtle tension in his muscles. he’s trying to stay in control, but you can see it now, the way his chest rises and falls too quickly, the way his breathing betrays him.

“don’t even fucking think about moving,” you murmur, voice low and teasing. you could practically taste the power in your words, the way he freezes under you, like he’s waiting for permission. waiting for you to make the next move.

you roll your hips experimentally, and the groan that escapes his lips is all you need to know—you have him. you can feel his breath catch, his hands twitching against you as you continue to grind against him, slow at first, just enough to make him ache. his eyes flutter closed for a second, and you watch, intrigued, as his lips part, desperate for air.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, barely audible, but you catch it. you’re not letting him get away that easily. not now.

“say that again,” you tease, your voice dripping with the control you’ve taken. “what was that?”

he swallows hard, his hands now attempting to move again, but you don’t let him. you press his wrists down, holding him firmly in place. he doesn’t resist. “you’re such a tease,” he whispers, but there’s something in his voice—something that tells you he’s not in control anymore. the tables have turned.

you don’t respond. instead, you give another roll of your hips, this time harder, faster, making sure you feel every inch of him under you. the low whimper that escapes his throat is enough to make you shiver, his head falling back slightly as he bites his lip, like he’s trying to hold something back.

“you like this, huh?” you ask, voice dripping with a hint of mockery. but there’s no hiding the way your body reacts to him—the way your core burns with the friction, the way the tension in the room builds higher.

chris’s hands twitch under your grip, and he stares at you, pupils blown wide. “fuck, please,” he breathes, and you feel a rush of desire at the way his voice cracks, the desperation clear in every syllable.

you grind down harder, feeling the way his hips instinctively move with yours, but you don’t let him take control. not this time. this is yours.

“tell me what you want,” you purr, your lips brushing against his ear. your hips continue their slow, deliberate pace, making sure he feels every inch of the movement. “say it, chris.”

he gasps, his chest rising and falling too quickly. “please—i need—”

you don’t wait for him to finish his sentence. instead, you roll your hips even harder, the pressure building in both of you. the sound of his breath catches, and it’s impossible to ignore. you can feel his muscles tense under you, the way his hands twitch, wanting to touch you, but you keep them in place, making him stay at your mercy.

the way his body reacts to every little movement makes you want to tease him more. you slow down just slightly, pulling back to watch him squirm. his eyes are dark now, pupils blown wide with need. “c’mon, chris,” you taunt softly. “you’re so desperate for it. just tell me what you want.”

and that’s when you see it. his entire demeanor shifts. he’s breaking, giving in. his hands finally leave yours, but they don’t go anywhere. instead, they land on your thighs, gripping tightly as he meets your eyes.

“please, don’t stop,” he mutters, his voice trembling. “please—i need you.”

and god, you can’t hold back anymore. you roll your hips one last time, the pressure and friction too much to ignore, and you both collapse into it. the feeling is too much. he whimpers again, and this time, the sound is louder—more desperate, more broken.

“that’s it,” you whisper, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “you’re doing so well.”

you keep going, slow and steady, watching the way he reacts to every single movement, every single roll of your hips. you’re in control, and he’s giving himself over to it.

his whimpers grow louder, more frantic, and you can feel him getting closer, his grip on you tightening, his breath shaky. he’s so close now, and it’s almost too much. you want him to break for you.

but for now, you’ll keep him right where he is—on the edge, begging for more.

no taglist yet but I might make one

divider by @enchanthings

#sub!chris sturniolo

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meg-sturniolo · 3 months ago

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⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Sub .ᐟ Matt making you squirt for the first time...

⚠︎ Smutty blurb. Squirting, fingers, sub!matt, use of 'ma,' begging, and more

“That’s it, ma, c’mon, fuck…” Matt moans. The scene displayed in front of him is enough to make him so hard it hurts. His cock is painfully throbbing against the bed, his hips mindlessly grinding into the soft material as he watches you writhe.

“It—I, oh my god, Matt, it—” Your words do little to help his current predicament. If anything, the tip of his dick is aching so much he’s sure it’s almost purple—but, he doesn’t care. This isn’t about him. It’s about his girl—it’s about you.

“C’mon…so—so wet, fuck—keep grinding into my fingers—jusssttt like that,” he praises, a moan falling from his lips as he feels his dick pulse with desperation. The small vibrator he has placed against your clit is working wonders. You never knew everything could feel so overwhelming good like this.

Scissoring his fingers against the spot that makes your back arch off the bed, Matt is driven with passion. It feels good—too good. The added sensations from the small bullet makes your body crave more than you can handle, your limbs falling into his trap—begging for more.

Desperate whimpers and pleas start falling from your lips. It’s unusual. You're typically the one in full control, but right now you’re pliant under his touch. But he's just as desperate as you—maybe even more.

To Matt, this was all part of the process. You had come close to finishing a couple of times, but he kept slowing down just enough to make the knot dissipate before you could come undone. The way your walls clamped around his fingers was mesmerizing. He loved watching you fall apart for him, but this time he wanted to see you really fall apart.

Matt notices how uncontrolled your actions are. Your hips grind against him helplessly. He can hear the subtle tear of your nails clawing into the bed sheets a little too hard. “Shit—you’re close, I—I can feel it,” he breathes, his words rushed as he tries to focus on keeping his movements the exact same.

Broken cries leave in between moans. You can’t even gather the ability to respond. Matt’s always been incessant on making you chant his name when you come undone, but not this time. He’s not begging for you to do anything but feel. This time he’s only focused on you. “Fuckkkkkkk….clenching ‘round my fingers so tight. I,” Matt lets out his own deep groan as your wet, sloppy cunt squelches with layers of slick. “---you got it, mhm. Just…just let go for me. Please, I—I need you to let go for me.”

The small encouragement is enough to coax your mind into falling numb. Quivering legs clamp on either side of him, pushing against his shoulders tightly. He doesn’t care—not when you’re like this. “Oh—oh my—-oh my, fuck!” you scream.

Matt feels like he’s living in his own daydream watching a clear wetness splatter out of you. A sloppy mess is being created, small sprays of liquid squirting out of your pussy as he keeps his movements consistent. “Holy—ohmygod. Than—thank you,,” he breathes.

Slowly riding you down from your high, he can’t help but rest his forehead against your inner leg—your wet inner leg. He’s already edged you a couple of times, building you up to experience the gut twisting bliss of squirting all over him. With little self restraint, Matt licks the slick from your legs. “Mmmmmm, you taste so good. So fucking good,” he rasps between hungry, open-mouthed kisses.

You’re too tired to even move. Your legs are still shaking on either side of him. Reaching down, you comb through his hair. Matt is quick to rest his head completely on your thigh, his eyes staring towards your pussy that looks heavenly all swollen and wet. “---’m so….’m so tired,” you announce breathlessly.

A soft moan erupting from his mouth makes you look down. You watch as his hips roll into the mattress, his eyes devoted to analyzing your pulsing lips. “Matt,” as you go to sit up, your legs start to close.

Out of pure instincts, Matt can’t help but pin your inner thigh down with a flat palm. “No, just—mmmm, just stay like this, please. I—I’m so close,” he huffs out.

With intention ridden in his eyes, Matt continues his rocking motions. Small whimpers push through his lips with each thrust of his hips into the bed. “Keep…keep playing with my hair, ma. I—-please, fuck,” he rasps.

Gently, you push your fingers through his hair. Matt clutches onto each of your thighs tighter, a small puddle of drool falls between his cheek and your legs. And fuck….he looks heavenly.

Wanted to rewrite this with him being subby lol. Thank you for reading, I hope your sex toys are fully charged. Any interaction is appreciated! This is apart of my benchmark special! THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT!

·˚ ༘ ʚ 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒊𝒈 𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒔, 𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒆 𖧧

꒰ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ๑ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ๑ 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ꒱

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