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xplringsturniolos · 19 days ago

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𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: in which Matt is failing his classes and at risk of having to repeat the semester, and his tutor is the reason behind it.

𝕯𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗: This is a collaborative story that me and another person started on, but I was given permission to edit and continue it, and I am in charge of it now :) All characters in this story are of age. None of the characters are minors. All previous parts are linked beneath the word count.

𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: cursing / smut / switch!matt / switch!fem reader / male masturbation / wet dreams / use of good boy / virgin!matt / p in v / oral (fem receiving) / oral (male receiving) / overstimulation / breeding kink / praise kink / mommy kink / scenes mentioning anxiety

𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 8145

Previous parts: Intro / One / Two / Three / Four

X O X O X O

No lights glowed outside as Matt slowed to a stop, gravel crunching under the van tires. The house seemed empty and devoid of life. He opened his phone and checked the message again - 1209 Cherokee Parks - I’m in the right place…

She started typing and his breath hitched in his throat. Does she know that I’m here? How could she know that? Was she watching for me? Waiting for me??

Come around the back it’s unlocked.

His heart thundered as Matt turned off the engine and stepped out of the car, pressing the button on his key fob, the car chirping in the silence that surrounded the neighborhood like a cozy blanket on a cool evening. He flinched, the sound breaking that silence, and he made a beeline for her house, or more so the shadows to keep from linking himself to the late night disturbance. A privacy fence ran the length of the sidewalk but it didn’t take him long to find the gate, and less time to slip through it, the rusty hinges groaning softly as he pushed the wooden door open. He made sure to secure the door shut, taking the time to lock it properly.

“Get inside.”

He jolted, whipping around to meet her face to face, but his heart thundered as all he was met with was the eerie shadows of the night. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, terrified by the voice from the darkness. She stepped out of a shadowed doorway and tilted her head inward. “Come on.” The moonlight glimmered in her eyes, her hair reflecting beams of hazy gray light. Her face held no emotion, and Matt swallowed. He was in a lot of trouble, and he knew it.

Matt obeyed, silent as the grave. How do you apologize to someone for…what I did? ‘Hey sorry I’m a horny freak with zero self-control, hope we can still be friends so my grades don’t plummet and my life doesn’t blow up in flames’. As he silently monologued, she led him through a maze of hallways and furniture, graceful and careless all at once. She stepped through a door, ushered him in, and closed it behind her. Matt realized three fundamental truths simultaneously.

One, he was in her bedroom. Two, she was in her bedroom. And the most important of the three, she and Matt were in her bedroom at the exact same time. Together.

This was an illuminating half-second for Matthew Bernard Sturniolo.

Looking around her room, Matt’s eyes flickered between the butterfly tapestries, pulled straight from a fantasy, to a basket of laundry on the floor. A pair of panties lay atop it, pink and soft-looking. What material is that? Silk? Matt blushed a deep shade of embarrassed, but she didn't even notice. “Sit,” she said, settling on the bed and opening her laptop. “Work.”

Matt took a deep breath. “Please, I’m so-”

“Finish your paper. Then talk.”

Matt knew there was only one option. He logged into his Google account on her laptop, pulling up the google doc that he had spent the past week working on. It should have been completed hours earlier, with her sitting across from him or even possibly beside him, laughing at something stupid he had said. But instead she stood there with her arms crossed over her chest, an unimpressed look on her face. Matt’s stomach twisted up, an ache growing in his side. He got right to work, not wanting to waste a single second. Each moment he had right now was precious. And every moment that he could save by bullshitting the rest of his paper, meant more time being spent on her. Apologizing to her. Begging for her forgiveness. Pleading for her to give him one more chance. To prove that he wasn’t this perverted creep with no self control…

The minutes passed quietly, with her music playing somewhere in the background. He liked her taste - a mix of artists he enjoyed and music he’d never heard, but liked in the moment. He wanted to ask if he could download one of her playlists. He figured that could be a conversation for later.

She got up at one point to let her cat in, and Matt paused for a moment to reach out a hand. With signature feline airs, the animal ignored him completely, her fabulously fluffy tail flicking at him as she turned away from him. The cat rubbed up against her ankle, meowing softly. Shrugging, he returned to his paper. Matt’s focus kept slipping, but the desperate need to explain himself—to somehow apologize to her—pushed him on. Within the hour, he’d cobbled together something vaguely resembling an essay, or at least a rambling apology wrapped in questionable punctuation.

“Okay, I’m done.” Matt leaned back, straightening out of the hunch he’d assumed.

She beckoned with her hand, and he bashfully passed the laptop to her, remembering how this very same interaction had played out mere hours before. If she recalled anything similar, she didn’t show it. She read over his essay in total silence.

With nothing to occupy his brain, Matt looked quietly around the room once more. Fucking laundry basket, he growled inwardly, trying his damndest to avoid even a glimpse at the underwear lying atop it. What does it look like on her? Does it go up to her waist on the edges or does it sit right on the side of her hips? His cock stiffened at almost the speed of light, and Matt grasped the nearby pillow, subtly moving it to his lap. The brisk friction caused a jolt of pleasure to burst through his synapses, and he mentally cursed himself for choosing to wear sweatpants. The first rule in the goddamn book: NEVER wear sweatpants unless you know they’re coming off. He pressed the cushion down with a little more force, desperate to conceal his, now fully loaded, weapon.

She reached the end of his work and gave a nod. “It’s fine.” Her tone was unimpressed. Almost…bored?

“Okay. I mean, is there anything I need to-”

“Get up.”

“Huh?”

“Up.” She waved once with her hand, brows raised in dawning incredulity.

Matt hesitated, his fingers clenching around the frilly pink pillowcase. He laughed nervously, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

“I really don’t think you want that…”

He smoothed out his shirt, nervous energy sparking through him - he wondered what in the world she was doing. He refused to meet her gaze, already knowing that his cheeks were the same bright red as the tip of his aching cock. Humiliation swirled around him, and Matt began to drown in it.

“Matt,” she warned.

Matt finally looked at her and he sighed. He shoved his hands into his pockets, adjusting himself subtly, before standing up and looking at her, shame written across his face. He knew what was coming, and he needed to brace himself for it.

Here it comes. ‘Matt, you’re a disgusting perverted creep and I never want to see you again. I told everyone what you did, and everyone else thinks you’re a gross hormonal pig too. You should look into being homeschooled, it’s not like you’ll be making it to graduation with your grades anyways.’

She took a deep breath and began to speak. “You freaked me out today. I wasn’t expecting to see porn on your laptop, much less porn like... that. I mean, everyone has their own tastes but I just…didn’t expect that from you.” She rambled, running her fingers through her hair, a rosy tint rising to her cheeks.

Matt’s eyebrows furrowed as he processed what she had said, an unfamiliar feeling bubbling in his stomach. “You had expectations about the porn I like?”

Strangely, she began to stumble over her words, the blush deepening in her soft skin. “N-No, I just- I just meant that-”

Matt interrupted her abruptly. “Listen, I’m really sorry that I made you uncomfortable, I seriously didn’t mean to, I want to keep my grades up so I graduate on time, and I just-” he sighed. “I’ve been under a lot of pressure, I keep beating myself up over every little thing I do, because all I keep doing is messing things up. I never wanted to put you in that position, I feel like a fucking pervert, I know how uncomfortable it made you and I’m so-”

She cut him off with a series of words that stunned him into speechlessness. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. You made me curious.”

Matt blinked. She continued.

Her fingers began to fiddle with her hair, twisting it around before inevitably untwisting it. “I’ve never met a guy that watches porn like that… usually they just want…I dunno…crazy stuff,” she said, moving her laptop to the other side of the bed, allowing her to sit down on her bed. Her eyes never left him, staring straight through him. She licked her lips slowly, Matt was almost sure she was doing it on purpose, and his dick twitched in his pants. He prayed that she hadn’t been able to see it. Her gaze finally released him, her eyes now admiring the elaborate pattern of pinks and whites on her bedding, her fingers toying with the pillowcase that Matt had previously been using. Her eyelashes fluttered, and suddenly her eyes met his again. “But now there’s some stuff I wanna try.”

Matt choked on nothing but the air in his lungs, his breath catching like it had betrayed him. He took a step back without meaning to, as if distance might shield him from whatever this was—this impossible kindness radiating off her like sunlight on a grave.

This is a trap. You know it’s a trap. No sane person would act like this—not after what he did. Not after the damage he left behind. She should be furious. She should be a storm. She should be tearing into him with words sharpened by rage, calling him names he wouldn’t even contest. He wants that—no, he needs it. He needs her hatred to make sense of his guilt; needs her cruelty to validate the punishment he’s already been living on a loop in his mind.

She should be shouting while he drops to his knees, not in some grand gesture, but because the weight of his shame makes standing feel dishonest. She should mock him while he agrees with every insult, letting her reduce him, rename him, strip him of even the illusion of redemption. He would take it—gladly, greedily—because maybe then he could believe there’s still a chance to make things right. Maybe then, her disgust would feel like attention. Maybe then, he could stop trying to claw his way back into her life through every waking thought.

But instead, she stood there—calm, composed, unreadable—and it terrified him. Because kindness felt like a trick. Forgiveness felt like a lie. And worst of all, some pathetic part of him still hoped it wasn’t.

Her voice sliced clean through the noise in his head. “Apologize to me, Matthew,” she said, softly—almost tenderly. Her lashes lowered, veiling her eyes like she already knew exactly how this would go. “Apologize, and do it properly.”

The calm in her voice wasn't mercy—it was precision. She didn’t need to raise her voice. He was already unraveling, and she was offering him the privilege of obedience. Her gentleness wasn’t forgiveness; it was power wrapped in silk, and he felt it coil around his throat like a ribbon.

Matt didn’t want to believe his ears. He must have misheard her—twisted her words into something they weren’t, something he wanted too badly to trust. She couldn’t have meant what he thought she meant. No. Impossible. This had to be a test. A cruel, careful test. She wanted him to prove himself—to piece back together what he’d shattered. That was all this was. It had to be.

Because the alternative made no sense. Because the alternative terrified him. Because in what universe would she still want him?

And yet, even as doubt gnawed at his mind, she kept looking up at him—silent, composed, unblinking. Her lashes cast delicate shadows across her cheeks, and her fingers toyed absently with the frilled edge of the pillowcase, twisting it with a slowness that felt almost rehearsed. Purposeful. Effortlessly cruel.

She didn’t need to speak again. Her eyes said everything: she knew. She knew he was already unraveling. She knew she had him. And worst of all—she knew he would give her whatever she asked.

Because he was hers. Not in some romantic, poetic way, but in the raw, desperate sense of a man who had already surrendered, clinging to the hope that his suffering might somehow still earn him a place beside her again.

At her feet, if that’s where she wanted him.

His throat constricted painfully, a ragged, desperate gulp tearing free like a silent scream trapped inside him. The weight of her seriousness crashed into him with the force of a tidal wave, relentless and inescapable, washing away every fragile hope he’d built. She was serious. Dead serious. “Yes, ma’am,” he croaked, voice cracking under the unbearable pressure, knees shaking like fragile glass ready to shatter beneath his weight. Each trembling step toward the bed was a surrender, a leaf caught in a storm, drawn irresistibly closer to the fierce eye of the hurricane—her.

Slowly—agonizingly slowly—he sank to his knees, eyes locked fiercely on hers, drinking in every flicker, every shadow, as if tracing constellations in the dark expanse of her soul. His lips parted just enough to steal in a breath, fragile and trembling, like a moth hovering at the edge of a flame, knowing full well the danger but unable to pull away. His entire body was a live wire of longing and reverence, humming with the electric ache of finally standing—or rather kneeling—before the sun that had burned its mark into his heart.

His heart thundered so loud it threatened to burst through his ribs, pounding out a frantic rhythm like war drums signaling surrender and devotion all at once. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined this moment would come—never thought she’d glance his way, let alone allow him to be this close, kneeling here like a pilgrim before a cathedral of light and shadow. His pulse hammered in his ears as every breath he took was a prayer, every inch of him aching to dissolve into her gravity, to be swallowed whole by the orbit of her presence.

He steadied his breath, forcing himself to meet her gaze through thick lashes, the air between them crackling like charged lightning—an invisible current pulling him deeper into her spell. And then, voice raw and trembling, he whispered, “Is it okay if I…”

“If you what?” Her smile bloomed slow and lethal, but all Matt could feel was the wildfire raging inside him—an uncontrollable blaze that scorched reason and left only raw nerves exposed. His heart was a cage of frantic wings beating against bone, desperate to escape but trapped by the weight of everything he wanted and feared. Her voice—soft, teasing—cut through the storm in his chest like a blade, leaving him shattered and aching in its wake.

His cheeks burned with a shame so fierce it threatened to drown him, a shame tangled with a desperate hunger he barely understood himself. Every glance she cast his way was a flame that stripped him bare, exposing all the cracks he’d hidden beneath layers of doubt and guarded hope. He was caught in the pull of her gravity—helpless, unraveling, utterly undone—each heartbeat a battle between longing and fear, between wanting to rise and knowing he could only fall.

He knelt there, trembling beneath her gaze, lost in the chaos of his own making—an electric storm of need and vulnerability, worship and self-doubt, burning brighter than he could bear. And in that silence thick with unspoken truths, he realized he was no longer in control. She was the storm, and he was nothing but a broken soul willing to be swallowed whole.

“If I touch you,” he whispered. “Please let me make it up to you.”

The words clawed their way out of him, trembling and torn from someplace deep—deeper than longing, deeper than shame. It wasn’t just a plea. It was surrender. His voice shook with the weight of it, with the frantic need coiled so tight inside his chest it felt like it might break him open. He didn’t know if he wanted forgiveness or punishment—only her. Only her.

She smiled, her eyes glistening with a devilish gleam.

Slow, deliberate, dangerous. That grin carved into him like a blade dipped in honey. She reached for him, and when her hand touched his cheek, it was like setting fire to an already scorched earth. He leaned into it with a reverence so desperate it bordered on madness. His breath stuttered, eyes wide and drowning in the sight of her. She was everything—salvation, damnation, and the space in between.

“Such a good boy, aren’t you?” she murmured, and the sound of it, that voice—warm and wicked, sweet like poison—had his stomach knotting, coiling tighter with every word. It wasn’t just praise. It was control wrapped in silk. It was a chain he didn’t want to break.

“Go ahead,” she allowed.

Her fingers trailed down beneath his chin, light as silk and twice as devastating. It wasn’t just her touch he craved; it was what it meant. It was permission. It was presence. It was power—and he would have followed it into the dark. Her gentle fingers traced his jaw, soft and lingering, like a promise he hadn’t earned. As her hand began to pull away, he followed without thinking, like gravity itself was tied to her skin. His head moved with her hand, desperate not to lose contact, like she was the only real thing keeping him tethered to this earth. Her touch was oxygen, and without it, he was already starving. Matt whimpered.

X O X O X O

With both hands, he took reverent hold of her calves and pressed his forehead to her knees, panting. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, kissing the soft skin on the inside of her legs, “I’m so sorry.” Shame flooded his cheeks, but it was a distant thing now—drowned beneath the urgency of his need. His mouth was reverent, desperate, moving over her skin in slow, trembling strokes like he could write a liturgy there with kisses. Every breath he drew was an invocation. Every exhale, a confession.

And she laid there, silent. Watching. Not stopping him. Her fingers twitched at her sides but didn’t move. Her throat bobbed, once, like she’d swallowed something heavy, and her breath caught in the back of it. She should have told him to get up. She should never have put him in this position, where he felt guilted into begging for her forgiveness. But those sudden realizations were worthless.

Because somewhere in the darkest corner of her heart, where no light ever touched, she liked it. Needed it. Needed him like this—ruined for her. She liked the way he trembled. The way he crumbled. The way he clung to her like salvation with a heartbeat.

He knew it was wrong. So wrong. To adore her like this—like a deity, like damnation in a dress. But he couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to. She was the sin he chose every time. The altar he bled on. The fire he walked into with open arms.

Unbeknownst to Matt, the woman before him used every single iota of self-control she possessed to restrain herself. He carried on with his adulation, nosing the space behind her knees, where her thighs tapered down into slender calves, gentle lingering kisses brushing across her soft skin, holding her leg with sweetened hands.

“What are you sorry for?” She murmured, remembering her place in the current dynamic. In control. She would not let him take control. He had a lesson to learn, after all.

Matt looked up, eyes wide and wet with pleading, and the fluttering in her gut turned violent. “I freaked you out,” he whispered, forehead pressing against her leg as if seeking absolution through skin-to-skin contact. “I—I didn’t mean to. I left it open—on my laptop—I didn’t think you’d see—” His voice cracked, hands trembling. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He breathed the apology like it hurt to say, like it was being torn from him.

She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, swallowing a groan. Was he trying to destroy her?

Then his lips were climbing higher, kissing a slow, fervent path up the inside of her thigh, curls tickling the other leg with maddening softness. “I won’t do it again. I swear,” he murmured, frantic now. “Just don’t give up on me, please. Don’t walk away. Don’t leave me—please…”

She stayed silent—because if she spoke, she’d break.

He shifted to her other leg like it was sacred, leaving heated, trembling kisses in his wake. His breath shuddered across her skin, turning warmth into goosebumps, into want. “Please,” he begged, forehead pressed to her shin now, his voice fraying at the edges. “I can’t lose this. I need this. I need you. I’m trying—I’m trying so hard, but my brain just won’t shut up, it’s always spinning and buzzing and—and every time that I see you, I just…” he breathed out, his hands growing clammy as the heat radiated off of him and melted into her skin. “I get so distracted…”

He broke off, panting, lost in it.

She watched, breath caught somewhere in her chest, as he clutched her leg like a lifeline. His hands, gentle and sweetened with guilt, clung to her leg like it was the only thing tethering him to the earth.

“Distracted by what, Matthew?” she asked finally, her voice sharp yet sweet.

His eyes fluttered open, glassy and frantic, and the way he looked at her—like she was salvation and punishment all in one—made her knees ache to give way.

He gulped. “You.”

She hissed—a sharp sound of warning—and shoved him back. The contact was light, but to Matt it landed like a blow. His hands fell away from her skin, trembling and empty. His chest constricted painfully, heart shriveling as though she'd torn it straight out with that single gesture. He stared up at her, stunned, breath frozen.

Then she moved.

It took him a beat to realize what was happening—her fingers sliding down to her waistband, pushing her pants over her hips with a smooth, measured finality that made his vision blur. He barely had time to think. Instinct seized him.

His hands flew to help, yanking the fabric the rest of the way down with a frantic reverence, like it was holy cloth he had no right to touch. His breath came in ragged, gasping waves, chest rising and falling as if he’d been underwater for minutes.

Then—skin.

Bare. Warm. Real.

“Please,” he whispered, voice cracked and breathless. “Please, please… please get on the bed. I’ll make you feel good, I swear—I need to, I need to—please let me, let me—” His hands cradled her waist as if she was the most fragile thing in the world.

He kissed her skin with trembling lips, frantic, hungry, worshipful. His words spilled in a feverish rush, barely coherent between kisses: “I’ll be so good—I’ll take care of you—fuck, just let me—I’ll ruin you right, make you forget every second you were mad at me—please please please…”

He was shaking. Not from fear—but from pure, unbearable longing.

“I can’t—” he choked, breath stuttering. “I can’t think when you’re like this, I can’t breathe—please just let me have you, let me show you—anything, anything you want—I’ll crawl, I’ll beg, I’ll break, just say it, please…”

He clung to her like a man unraveling, burying his face in her skin, like he could inhale her, drown in her, cease to exist and call it peace.

She was already scrambling backward across the bed, breath ragged, lips parted with aching need.

“Apologize, pretty boy.”

The words struck him like lightning—commanding, sharp, and so goddamn hot it nearly undid him.

Matt climbed onto the mattress with no grace, no hesitation, crawling after her like he was starving. His hands found her thighs, spreading them open with trembling reverence, his chest sinking between them as he laid himself low—offered himself.

A strangled whine tore from his throat, desperate and raw. “Come here,” he breathed, almost pleading, voice thick with worship and ache.

His fingers slipped under the waistband of her dark blue thong—so soft, so unfairly pretty—and he dragged the delicate fabric down her hips, over her thighs, past her knees, all the way to her ankles. He let it fall to the floor like it was nothing—because compared to her, it was nothing. Everything else blurred into irrelevance the moment she was bare before him.

And then he saw her.

The breath left his lungs in a single, broken sound.

Glistening pink, folds slick with arousal, her wetness catching the light as it shimmered between her thighs. Matt’s vision blurred. His throat closed. He blinked once, twice—trying to convince himself this was real. That this was for him. That she was for him.

He’d never seen anything more beautiful.

Not in dreams. Not in fantasies. Nothing he’d imagined came close to the aching perfection of her, wet and open and wanting.

She gasped, a noise of surprise getting caught in her throat as Matt’s strong hands grasped the underside of her thighs, yanking her closer towards him. His patience had fled in mere seconds, he couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to taste her. Even if it was the last thing to find itself on his tongue, he would have died a happy man.

He couldn’t stop the smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth—not when she threw her head back into the pillow like that, not when her fingers tangled deep in his chestnut curls, clutching him like she needed something to anchor her to this plane of reality. His breath trembled in his chest, heart stuttering hard against his ribs as her hips jolted upward, chasing the heat of his breath like it was the only air she could breathe.

He blinked once, dazed, then leaned in—lips pursed—exhaling deliberately over her soaked heat again, just to feel her react. Another buck of her hips. Another desperate twist of her fingers in his hair.

“God, please don’t tease—”

Her voice. That voice.

It cracked something inside him.

His head spun, the sound of her plea short-circuiting every thought in his mind until all that remained was need.

He didn't waste another second. The space between them disappeared in a heartbeat as he leaned in, cradling her thighs with care, reverence. Her arousal painted the inside of her thighs, shining in the low light, folds swollen and pink and perfect. He blinked, dizzy with need, and then dropped lower—his chest flat against the bed, his arms hooked tightly under her thighs like she might vanish if he let go. He dragged her closer, as close as he could get her, nose brushing the soft, swollen heat of her folds.

His tongue pressed flat against her slick, swollen folds, and the world simply vanished.

A deep, guttural moan rumbled from his chest, half-broken by how overwhelmed he felt. Her taste—God—her taste was everything. She wasn’t sweet like candy; no, she was better. She was fresh-cut fruit at a summer cookout—lush, ripe, dripping with juice. The kind that stains your fingers, makes you greedy. The kind you go back for again and again and again.

Seconds. Thirds. Fourths. Forever.

He groaned against her, tongue gliding slowly, purposefully, savoring every second like she was the only thing that had ever mattered. His self-control unraveled, thread by thread, lost to the way she trembled under his mouth.

He lapped at her with aching tenderness, every motion an offering. A devotion. A promise.

He wasn’t here just to make her feel good.

He was here to worship.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me. You don’t know—fuck—how long I’ve wanted this, how many nights I’ve thought about this, about you.”

Another moan. Another flick of his tongue. Her taste spread across his tongue like it belonged there.

His eyes fluttered shut. His hips ground helplessly into the mattress as he worshipped her. Every sound she made, every twitch of her thighs, every tremble in her breath—it was breaking him down, reshaping him into something new.

Something hers.

Matt’s mouth was everywhere—open and eager, sucking gently on her skin like he could draw her pleasure straight into his bloodstream. He moaned into her flesh, every sound raw, needy, helpless. He didn’t know where his body ended and hers began. Didn’t want to. He was lost in her, in the warmth of her thighs, the scent of her arousal, the pulse he felt with his lips and tongue and fingers.

His hand slid away from her thigh, shaking slightly, and found its way between her legs—fingertips brushing over her slick heat in slow, reverent circles. She was wet. Dripping. Not just a little. She was soaking. For him. The realization hit him so hard he almost forgot to breathe.

Matt gasped softly, grinding his hips into the mattress below in helpless rhythm. He couldn’t stop it. His body was responding to hers like a tether had been tied between them—his pleasure directly bound to hers. But this wasn’t about him. It never was.

Every moan that spilled from her lips, every small twitch of her hips, every broken sound she tried—and failed—to bite back, lit his nerves on fire. He knew the sounds women made when they were pretending. He knew what it looked like when it was performative, for show, for ego. This wasn’t that.

This was real.

She was coming apart for him. And it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever witnessed.

His eyes flicked up to the bedspread beneath her—soft pink, patterned with bows and cherries—and the sight nearly undid him. The fabric was already darkening beneath her, soaked with her need, a testament to what he was doing to her. What she was letting him do. And Matt thought: Nothing in the world could ever be more sacred than this.

More sure now, more devoted, he let his jaw go slack and buried himself between her thighs. His tongue moved with purpose, no longer timid—worshipping her with every stroke, every flick, every trembling kiss. He kissed like it was prayer. He licked like it was penance. He moaned like he could cry, overcome by the taste of her, the heat of her, the knowledge that she was letting him do this.

Her gasp shattered the air between them like glass.

His entire body froze, then shivered in reaction.

“Holy fuck,” he groaned, voice wrecked and low, his hands tightening against her hips, holding her like she might disappear. “I’ll do this all night if you keep soundin’ like that…”

He meant it. God, he meant it.

She grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked, and Matt whimpered—not from pain, but from pure, unfiltered need. He would’ve thanked her for it. Begged for more. There was nothing she could do to him that he wouldn’t want, as long as it came from her.

“Don’t stop,” she panted, grinding her hips into his mouth like she was using him—because she was. And he loved it. “Never stop.”

Matt groaned in response—deep and throaty, the sound vibrating directly against her clit. “Yes ma’am,” he panted, almost frantic.

He slipped two fingers into her with the softest, most reverent care, and the moment he felt her walls clench around him—tight, warm, pulsing—he nearly sobbed.

His mouth latched back onto her clit, tongue stroking and flicking with a new intensity. Not rough. Never rough. Just intentional. Worshipful. Deliberate. Like he was spelling her name in devotion with every movement.

She tugged harder at his hair and he moaned again, voice broken, almost delirious. If she told him to stay like this forever, he would. If she wanted to leave marks, to scratch, to bruise, he’d take it all with thanks in his mouth.

He was hers.

To use.

To own.

To control.

And she—she was his to worship. His to serve.

Her pleasure was his purpose. Her moans were his reward. Every twitch of her hips, every whimper, every breathless command—it all carved deeper into his soul. He wasn’t just making love to her with his mouth and hands.

He was offering himself.

And he hoped, desperately, wildly, that she’d never stop taking.

She writhed beneath him, breath catching in broken gasps, and something in Matt fractured. It wasn’t just need anymore— this was pure, unfiltered obsession. His hands slid up her thighs, not to roam, but to anchor—to bind her to him, to hold her in place like he was terrified she might vanish. And maybe he was. Her body trembled against his, and instead of letting it pull him back, he held firm. Made her feel every moment of what he offered, every movement a wordless plea: stay. feel. don’t leave me.His chest burned. The aching, terrifying sense that if he let go of her for even a second, he might fall apart entirely. As much as she tried to move, he held her still, making her feel every second of pleasure that he offered to her. Every deliberate and direct flick of his tongue over her sensitive bundle of nerves had heavenly sounds pouring out of her, a fountain of praise spilling from her lips in sickly sweet mewls. Each whimper that escaped her lips carved itself into him like scripture.

His breath caught as he pressed his forehead into her, as though seeking absolution. “God…” he muttered into the hush between her sounds, his voice trembling with awe, like her pleasure was something holy and he was barely worthy of witnessing it. He opened his eyes and looked up at her—this sacred, luminous thing sprawled before him—and something broke open in his chest. His gaze flickered down, taking in the sight of her beautiful temple before him. A sacred thing that was, at least for now, in this moment, all for him. This is what worship feels like.

She whined, a sound so beautiful and light that it made Matt feel like he was floating. She could ask anything of him in that moment, and he would do it without thought. Tear open chest and snap off each individual rib. Offer up his soul. Disappear, if she willed it. His fingers gripped onto her thighs as if he was afraid he’d be torn from her in seconds. His tongue traced patterns over her sensitive clit, hymns and prayers of praise and worship soaking into her. She let out a gasp, a broken cry, a moan that had his bones aching, his body trembling. “Don’t stop - God, please… don’t s-stop-” she choked out, her back arching off of her soft pink sheets. She tried to move her legs, to wrap them around him and pull him impossibly closer, but he kept her thighs tightly pinned down to the mattress. “Oh my god, Matt-” she panted.

He heard it again—his name, soft and soaked with breath—and it nearly undid him. She had said it before, countless times. But now it was different. Now it was a lifeline thrown to a drowning man, and he clung to it with everything he had. A sound had never shaken him to his core quite like she managed to do so effortlessly. He gripped her thighs tighter—not to restrain her, but to steady himself. To hold onto the edges of this moment before it passed. His whole world had narrowed down to the sound of her voice, the curve of her body, the way she clung to him like he mattered. Like he was all that she needed.

Her release was building—he could feel it in every inch of her, like a tide swelling under the surface. Her stomach tightened beneath his hands, her breaths came in sharp, uneven bursts, and her entire body began to tremble with anticipation. She was unraveling, coming apart—and taking him with her.

Matt’s pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out everything except her. The way she clenched around him, as though her body was trying to hold onto him, to keep him inside her orbit, to refuse the very idea of distance between them. He wasn’t just touching her—he was being taken in. Consumed.

He let out a shaky exhale, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as the realization hit him: she was swallowing him whole—not just in body, but in soul. He was disappearing into her, cell by cell, thought by thought, until there was nothing left of him that hadn’t been reshaped by her.

He no longer knew where he ended and she began.

The connection was more than physical—it was existential. His identity, once something he held onto so tightly, now slipped away like sand through trembling fingers. All he could feel was her. All he wanted to be was hers. To be absorbed into her completely, like he was meant to be nothing but a part of her design.

She was rising—he could feel it in the air, in the rhythm of her breath, in the way her body pulled tighter around him like a fist made of silk. His chest ached with something greater than need. It was reverence. As if her climax was a sacred rite and he, trembling and overwhelmed, was the willing sacrifice.

“Please…” he whispered, forehead resting against her. He didn’t even know what he was begging for. Her release. Her grace. Her forgiveness. To be allowed to stay in this moment just a little longer, before the universe pulled him away from her.

And when she finally shattered, he felt it as though it happened inside him. Like her pleasure had cracked something in his soul wide open—and he welcomed it. Gladly.

Because to be undone by her was the only way he ever wanted to fall apart.

When her body collapsed beneath him, still trembling with the echoes of release, Matt rose slowly—like surfacing from deep water, breathless and disoriented. He kissed her thighs, her hips, her stomach, reverently, his lips soft and wet with the taste of her. Each kiss was a quiet benediction, a whispered thank-you pressed into skin.

She lay still, panting, her gaze unfocused and pinned to the ceiling like she was somewhere far from the world. Something in Matt’s chest twisted painfully. Was she okay? Did she regret this? Had he gone too far? His heart lurched and tumbled downward, helpless and heavy.

“Are you alright?” he asked, voice thin and unsteady, his hand cupping her cheek as he leaned over her.

She blinked, then smiled—soft and dazed, still catching her breath. “I’m great.”

Relief hit him like a wave. His body sagged with it, and he let himself fold downward, resting his head on her stomach like it was the only place he belonged. His arms wrapped around her, holding her like something fragile, like if he didn’t ground her with his touch she might drift away into the ether.

He didn’t want to let go. Not now. Not ever.

There was no lust in the way he clung to her now—only reverence. A quiet, aching sort of awe. As if this moment had redefined something fundamental in him. She had opened herself to him, let him see her undone, vulnerable, divine—and now he couldn’t remember how he’d ever existed apart from her.

Matt closed his eyes, pressing his ear to the soft rise and fall of her breath. If he could, he would have crawled inside that rhythm and stayed there forever. Not to take anything more—but just to be. Near her. Part of her. Anchored in her gravity.

He didn’t say a word. There was nothing to say. She had already given him more than language could ever hold.

X O X O X O

Matt traced slow, reverent circles on her skin, his thumb trembling with every pass. His breathing was uneven — shallow, restless — and not from exertion. It was the ache. The ache of being so close, of giving so much of himself and still wanting to give more. His arousal throbbed beneath the thin fabric of his sweatpants, but he said nothing. He wouldn’t ruin this. Not with need. Not when she was letting him stay. Not when he felt, somehow, like he belonged.

Her fingers brushed through his hair again — slow, rhythmic strokes that scratched gently at the nape of his neck, a place no one had ever touched with this kind of... claim. A shiver rolled through him, full-body and involuntary.

She noticed. “What’s wrong, pretty boy?” Her voice was soft, not mocking, but curious — like she was peeling back another layer just to see him.

“I’m... I’m sensitive,” Matt whispered, hiding his face in the crook of her waist. The confession made him burn from the inside out.

“Oh yeah?” She almost hummed the words, the noise vibrating through her ribcage.

Matt nodded, a little breathless.

“Roll over.”

His head shot up. How am I supposed to hide this fucking boner now?

“Strike one,” she said, her voice hardening with each word. “Roll. Over.”

“Yes ma’am.” Matt’s brain tangled up into itself, and he scrambled awkwardly to obey, lifting his hips so she could see the shape of him, hard and helpless beneath stretched fabric. There was no hiding now. The gray sweats betrayed everything — the way his body pulsed with need, the way his mind unraveled the moment she spoke to him like that.

“Oh, Matty...” she sighed, her fingers ghosting over his thigh. “You’re aching, aren’t you?”

He swallowed. “...Yeah.”

When her hand brushed lightly over the front of his boxers, Matt gasped, hips twitching toward her. “God... that feels so good,” he breathed, voice cracking.

She worked slowly, tracing the outline of him with intention, watching every twitch of muscle, every flutter of his lashes. Matt was barely holding it together. His fingers gripped the sheets at his sides like they were the only things keeping him tethered to the earth.

“You're shaking,” she observed softly.

“I... I can’t—” he tried, voice breaking. “I just... I want you so much. I need to be good for you. Please tell me what to do.”

She paused, watching his chest heave, his face flushed and open like never before. There was no ego here. No control. Just Matt — raw, exposed, and aching to please.

“Then listen,” she said gently. “Be still. Breathe. Let me take care of you.”

And he did. Because in that moment, Matt wasn't afraid of submission. He craved it. Not out of weakness, but from the overwhelming desire to be seen, to be wanted, to be enough.

He was hers to guide. And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel lost.

She smirked, eyeing Matt like he was her next meal. Like he was a wounded rabbit, cornered by a ravenous wolf. His heart raced in his chest, his body trembled, his breathing became unsteady and scattered. Despite being her prey, Matt had never felt more drawn to someone in his life. He had never felt more safe. “Take them off, baby,” she purred, her tone dripping with venom disguised as something sweet. She licked her lips, slow and deliberate, eyes fixed on him. Matt’s breath hitched. There was something in the way she looked at him—like hunger, but not just for his body. For power. For surrender. For the soft, desperate pulse of his heart beneath her hand.

His legs trembled. His fingers twitched at his sides. He didn’t move. Couldn’t.

“Take them off, baby,” she murmured, her voice dipped in something syrupy and sharp all at once. A coaxing cruelty. A promise. A trap that he wanted—no, needed—to fall into.

Matt didn’t breathe. He just stared, wide-eyed and dazed.

Her voice dropped an octave, velvet wrapped in steel. “Strike two.”

That did it.

Matt’s fingers fumbled and tripped over each other as he desperately tried to loosen the knot in his drawstrings. Once they were undone, Matt met her gaze again, hesitantly pushing his sweatpants down to his knees, blindly kicking them off onto the floor of her bedroom. The tip of his cock peeked out below the faded blue waistband of his boxers, his own arousal oozing from his tip. He looked up at her, awaiting judgment, his chest rising with shallow, uneven breaths. The air between them crackled.

“Good boy,” she whispered, drinking in the immensity with her eyes. Matt’s bulge was prominent, a thick rise with deep valleys on either side. Without thinking, she reached out to touch him. Her thumb brushed over his exposed skin, his body lurching forward involuntarily at the contact.

Matt’s jaw dropped as his lips parted, letting out a quiet yet delicious, “Ohhh….fuck….” He watched the movements of his lover’s hands with whoreish lust, eyes hooded and dark, chest rising and falling like tumultuous ocean waves as she stroked him over the soft fabric of his underwear. From caressing his tip to using two fingers to apply pressure on both sides as she slid over his length, from base to head, she hunted for which bundle of nerves elicited the best noises out of her toy. As she reached the head of his cock with her thumb and index finger, his chest hollowed out with a powerful exhale.

She didn’t rush. She studied him—how his body responded, how his breath stuttered, how his eyes flicked upward, pleading for something he couldn’t name. Her fingers moved with purpose, seeking out every place that made him tremble, made him whimper, made him submit.

“You like that, sweet boy?” she murmured.

“Yes,” he gasped, voice thin and desperate. “Yes, I do. Please don’t stop.”

But she did. Just like that.

The silence that followed was deafening. He twitched, hips shifting forward helplessly, as though his body refused to accept the absence of her touch.

“No, please—Mommy, I’ll be good, I’ll be so—”

Silence fell like glass shattering.

Matt froze. The word had slipped out of him like breath, like instinct. And now it sat between them, shimmering and dangerous.

He reeled back in horror, eyes wide, fumbling for his clothes as if shame might be something he could cover. “I-I’m sorry—God, I didn’t mean to— I, I can go, fuck, where’s my-”

“Matt.”

“-never do that again, I’m so sorry, I need my pants, where the hell-”

“Matty.”

“-did they go, oh here they are, I-”

“Matthew.”

Her voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to. It cut through his panic like a hot blade.

He stilled, one leg in his sweatpants, his chest heaving.

She tilted her head slightly, the air around her shifting. Gone was the teasing smile, the playfulness — in its place was stillness, something sharp and commanding behind her eyes. “Did I say you could leave?” Her voice didn’t rise. It didn’t have to.

Matt froze. His breath caught in his throat. That single question struck him harder than any shout could have. He stood half-dressed, trembling, the fabric of his sweatpants tangled around one ankle. Shame and heat rushed through him all at once, but beneath it — or maybe because of it — something deeper unfurled. A kind of devotion that cracked open his ribs and spilled him bare.

He looked down, eyes wide, heart thundering like he’d been caught doing something sacred the wrong way. “No,” he whispered. “You didn’t.”

Her gaze didn’t waver, but it softened. Just enough. Like she knew exactly what she held in her hands — and how carefully it needed to be treated. “Then why are you trying to run, Matthew?”

He couldn’t answer. The knot in his throat was too tight. All he could do was shake his head — once — and step back toward her. He let the last of the fabric fall from his leg with a muted thud, and knelt before her at the foot of the bed. Not out of instruction. Out of instinct.

She reached forward and touched his jaw, tilting his face up to meet her eyes. “You get scared when you feel too much,” she said, so softly it barely carried across the room. “But I already see you. I see all of it.”

Matt’s hands found the edge of the mattress like a lifeline. His whole body was trembling. “I don’t want to mess this up,” he said, almost like a confession. “I’d do anything right now just to stay close to you.”

“Guess you better obey then,” she said quietly.

Matt swallowed. “I guess I better,” he agreed.

X O X O X O

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xplringsturniolos · 19 days ago

Text

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: in which Matt is failing his classes and at risk of having to repeat the semester, and his tutor is the reason behind it.

𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 11,613

Previous parts: Intro / One / Two / Three / Four /

X O X O X O

Matt waited to respond until he was settled into his seat in his first period class. Once he had shrugged his coat off and slumped down in his chair at his desk, Matt slipped his phone out of his pocket and typed in his password, clicking on the app that had been taunting his every thought for the last half hour. His thumb hovered over the unopened message from her. What’s the worst she could have said? Matt tapped on the notification, reading her reply.

i finish up around 4 :)

Matt froze. He had been preparing himself for rejection, bracing himself for disappointment. And now he was at a loss for words. He didn’t think he’d get this far. Did she just…

Wanna meet up somewhere?

Matt didn’t even bother leaving the chat this time, watching as she opened the chat and began typing almost immediately. She’s a fast replier, a trait that Matt found endearing. Most of the girls Matt had spoken to would take hours, if not days, to respond to him, but not her.

sure, where?

You like crepes?

I do like crepes :)

Matt felt like his throat was closing up, his face and ears burning with a deep blush as he typed out a response in record time. ‘Do not fuck this up, Matt,’ he thought. ‘You cannot fuck this up.’

I know a good place, if you wanna do that

perf :) send the address and i’ll meet you there after i finish up this afternoon

Sounds good.

X O X O X O

Never in his life had a day gone by so slowly. Every minute felt like twenty. His eyes would dart over to the clock every so often, his stomach twisting up into knots at the realization that almost no time had passed since the last time he had checked. The entire day, Matt couldn’t help himself. He was far too scatter-brained to focus on a single lesson plan that his teachers had today, which he would normally feel bad about, but today was different. The anxious energy inside of him continued to build throughout the day, and as he sat in his last period class he couldn’t contain it anymore. His heel lifted and dropped, his knee bouncing at a significant speed. He chewed on his nails, doing his best to ignore the stinging he felt in his tender nail beds. When the last bell of the day finally rang, Matt collected his belongings and hauled ass out of the classroom and to his regular meet up point where Chris and Nick waited for him. He didn’t waste a second to even put his coat on, zipping past them towards the exit doors, his confused brothers struggling to keep up behind him.

“Matt, chill!” Nick called out, his voice getting drowned out by the stampede of other students surrounding them. But Matt couldn’t contain himself; he was more excited than he had ever been about anything in his entire life. Perhaps that was an exaggerated statement, but at the moment Matt couldn’t remember a time where he had been this excited for something.

“Let’s go, people. Hurry it up,” Matt called back to his brothers, snapping his fingers to punctuate his impatient demand. Nick and Chris shared a look, rolling their eyes but picking up their speed nonetheless. They tried to push through the groups of people that began to cluster together, slowing down by the rows of lockers to plan their own after school activities. Matt flew through the hallway like a bat out of hell, dodging people left and right, nearly colliding with a few people as he absentmindedly weaved through the crowd. His sneakers squeaked against the dull linoleum floor, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. Matt rounded the corner, his speed picking up slightly upon seeing the doors at the end of the hall, the ‘EXIT’ sign illuminated with a faded red glow. In just a few steps, Matt had reached the door, his hand pressing against the cold metal push bar. The door creaked loudly as he swung it open and immediately stepped outside.

The cold air hit Matt like a brick wall, his muscles tensing the moment his foot hit the concrete, though it didn’t slow him down. He made a beeline for the student parking lot, his shoes scuffing against the pavement with each step he took. The van chirped to life as Matt took the keys from his pocket, clicking the unlock button. He wasted no time in tossing his bag into the backseat, leaving the door open for his brother’s convenience before jogging around to the driver’s side of the car, swinging the door open.

“Didn’t realize we were training for the fucking Olympics,” Nick huffed, climbing into the backseat. “Next time you do some shit like that, at least let me fucking stretch first.” Nick placed his bag on the empty seat beside him, scoffing when he felt Chris toss his own backpack down by Nick’s feet. “Hey- fucking watch it.”

Chris stuck his tongue out at his brother, shutting the door to the backseat with a loud slam. Matt shot his brother a glare through the passenger window, and once the passenger door was open, Matt put the keys into the ignition. “Slam the fucking door again, Chris,” Matt scolded.

Testing his brother’s patience, Chris collapsed into his seat, slamming the door shut once he was situated. Matt tensed up, closing his eyes. ‘It’s not worth the energy,’ he reminded himself, letting out a heavy breath. ‘He’s doing it on purpose, don’t pay attention to it.’ Matt opened his eyes and brought his hand to the gearshift, shifting the car into drive.

“So…” Chris broke the silence, looking over at Matt with a quirked eyebrow. “What’s the rush, Matty boy?”

Matt scoffed, shaking his head. “There’s no rush-”

“The fuck do you call that back in the hallway, then?” Nick interrupted, looking towards the driver’s seat. “What, is that your idea of a leisurely stroll?”

Chris looked over his shoulder into the backseat, smirking at Nick. “I think someone has a date-”

“It’s not a date,” Matt scowled, interrupting his brother before he could get too carried away with the assumptions and teasing. “We’re meeting up to finish this project. That’s it.”

“Dude you’re so fucking negative,” Chris huffed, leaning back in his seat and running his fingers through his hair. “So, if it’s not a date, where are you meeting?”

Matt shrugged nonchalantly, his gaze remaining on the windshield as he navigated his way through the bustling parking lot. “Davis square. The crepe place over by the movie theater-” he mumbled, tapping the brakes as a group of girls mindlessly walked in front of his car. “-Fucking look where you’re going!” He snapped, smacking his palm against the steering wheel impatiently.

Chris laughed under his breath. “Yeah, I totally wouldn’t call that a date,” he mumbled sarcastically. Nick rolled his eyes, averting his attention to his phone. He wanted to know more about Matt’s little outing that he was keeping a secret, for whatever reason. He opened his Instagram, his gaze flickering to the rearview mirror for a moment to assure that Matt was paying no attention to him.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t because it’s not,” Matt huffed. “We’re working on our project-”

“-Uh huh, at a crepe place that’s five minutes away from our house.”

“So what?” Matt snapped. “Library would be closed by the time her yearbook club finishes-” the tips of Matt’s ears glowed an embarrassed shade of red as he realized what he had said. “O-Or, I mean, I’m assuming that’s where she is, she said she wasn’t free until after four.”

Chris shook his head, rolling his eyes once more as he grabbed the aux cord from the center console, plugging his phone into the charger. “Whatever, man. Sell yourself short if you really want to,” he mumbled, opening his Spotify and shuffling a random playlist he had made. “Just get me home so I can run duos with Nate. New season dropped today and we wanna run our stats up.”

X O X O X O

Matt stared at the clock on the wall, biting his thumb nail as his eyes followed the ticking hands. He had been sitting at the empty table since 3:45, waiting. The cafe wasn’t very busy, it usually wasn’t around this time of year. Only two other tables were occupied in the entire restaurant, which kept the atmosphere cozy and mellow, but still somewhat empty. An older gentleman sat by the window, typing away on his computer. He seemed important, dressed in an expensive looking work suit, his hair slicked back and his Rolex watch gleaming under the warmth from the cafe lights. Matt found himself looking over at the man a few times, questions flooding his brain. I wonder what he does for work. Is he in politics? Maybe finance? I wonder if he ever had trouble finding love. At the thought, Matt’s gaze lingered down to the man’s hands, his chest tightening at the sight of the silver band around his finger. He’s married. That’s no surprise. I wonder if he was anything like me in high school. Do I even have the potential to be like him? Successful? Married? He’s probably wealthy enough to live a comfortable life until he’s buried six feet under the ground right beside his loving wife. Do I even have a chance at having something like that?

Matt looked across the cafe, his gaze now studying the couple occupying the table in the corner. Two girls, probably only a little older than himself, sitting next to each other. His heart ached as he watched them, studying the way they looked at each other. One of them reaching up, tucking a strand of the other girl’s hair behind her ear. They were far too indulged in each other to care about anyone else around them. It was almost disgustingly adorable watching them, and Matt eventually had to look away. He couldn’t describe the empty ache he felt in his chest. All he had ever wanted was to have something like that. Something passionate, something intimate, something real.

His gaze flickered back over to the clock on the wall. 4:48. He sighed, running his fingers through his messy hair. She’s not coming. I should’ve known better. Matt shut the lid of his laptop and, just before he started to pack everything away into his backpack, the bell above the door to the cafe chimed, earning his immediate attention. He looked over his shoulder and couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips as she rushed in. His heart swelled. She stomped the snow off of her boots onto the mat at the door, yanking her gloves off of her hands. She met his gaze and smiled apologetically, her boots squelching against the tile floor with each step she took to approach him. “I’m so sorry, I lost track of the time and when I saw the clock I tried to get here as fast as I could,” she began, but Matt had barely heard a word she said. He was too lost in her beauty; the snowflakes that had caught in her long wavy hair, the rosy tint on her cheeks and the tip of her nose from the cold, her slightly chapped lips, her nimble fingers that were still trembling from the cold as she removed her heavy winter coat, tossing it over the back of the chair across from where Matt was seated.

Matt shook his head, offering her a warm and understanding look. “It’s all good, I know yearbook is probably pretty time consuming,” he shrugged.

She placed her backpack on the table, unzipping it to take her laptop out. As she processed Matt’s words, she looked at him again. “How did you know I was in the yearbook club?” She asked him. Her tone was soft, not accusatory. It was…amused?

Matt’s face flooded with heat. “I-I…um, well I have study hall across the hallway from that classroom, I see you come and go from time to time,” Matt explained, mentally cursing himself for such an amateur slip up. She’s going to think I’m a fucking creep. “I-I don’t like stalk you o-or anything,” Matt stammered. The second the words left his mouth, Matt wanted nothing more than to swallow an entire bottle of superglue. Why can’t I just shut the fuck up? “I-I mean, like, I-I just-”

“Matt,” she interrupted him, her voice warm and gentle.

He met her gaze, his face still flushed red, and he swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that.” He mumbled, tearing his eyes away from her nervously. He brought his hand up to his face, biting at his nails.

She could sense his nervous energy. Hell, anyone within a half mile radius probably could. It was no secret that Matt was more socially reserved than his brothers. Unless it was a sports event, Matt really didn’t tag along to other social gatherings unless his brothers dragged him there. She couldn’t recall many instances where she had seen him in that setting, and the few times that she had, he really didn’t interact with anyone. He would stand in the corner and engage in very limited small talk here and there, but social settings were not his strong suit. She hated thinking that he was uncomfortable, it made her stomach twist and knot up with guilt. “You come here often?” She asked, mentally facepalming herself for the weak excuse of a conversation starter.

Matt looked at her again, dropping his hand into his lap. “No…Not really. Just a few times.”

“Well, help me pick out something to eat,” she smiled, gesturing for Matt to stand up and follow her. “I trust your judgement,” she hummed.

Matt was still a little too awestruck to fully process what she had said, blindly standing up and following her like a lost puppy. He couldn’t help but notice the small things; she had tried a new perfume today, something with a little more citrus in it than her normal floral fruity perfume. On anyone else, Matt really wouldn’t have been too fond of it, but on her it was fragrant, refreshing, clean. She was a little shorter than him. Nothing too jaw droppingly noticeable, but enough that she still had to look up at him. He watched as she picked up one of the laminated menus, dragging her finger along each item as she read them. He looked over at her, watching the way her lips moved as she silently read the menu items to herself.

“Matt? Hello? You in there?”

Matt blinked, suddenly realizing that she had, in fact, been speaking to him. For how long, he wasn’t too sure. “What?”

She laughed softly, and Matt felt his feet melt into the floor. He was sure his irises had molded into little hearts from just how dearly he looked at her. “I asked what I should get,” she repeated, nudging his side with her elbow.

“O-Oh, r-right,” Matt swallowed his nerves. “Well, are you wanting a sweet crepe? Or were you wanting something more savoury?”

She thought for a moment. “Something…sweet,” she smiled at him, tilting her head a little.

His heart launched up into his throat, his lungs constricting. ‘She’s going to be the death of me,’ he thought to himself. “W-Well, um-” Matt paused, clearing his throat as he turned the menu over to the selection of sweet crepes that the cafe had to offer. “I like the strawberries and nutella one,” he suggested.

“Well if you like it, then it must be pretty good,” she teased. Matt stared at her for a moment, his stomach doing somersaults. He was almost afraid that he was in a dream. In a few hours he would wake up in his bed, probably drenched in sweat or cum or both, just like every other night. ‘Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if it was a dream,’ he thought. ‘Maybe you’d want me just as badly as I want you. Maybe I wouldn’t be such a social disaster. Maybe, if this was a dream, I’d have the fucking balls to make a move on you.’ But he didn’t want this to be a dream. He wanted it to be real. He wanted her to be real.

Matt watched her longingly. She spoke kindly to the girl behind the counter, placing her order, punctuating each sentence with a ‘please’ or a ‘thank you’. She had to be the sweetest girl Matt had ever met. He admired how she was never selective with her kindness, sharing it with everyone. Matt snapped back into reality, taking his wallet out of his back pocket when he saw her opening her phone’s Apple pay screen. “Put it away,” he spoke softly, taking two $20 bills from his wallet. She looked up at him, surprised by his chivalrous act.

“Matt, you don’t have to do that-”

“I know I don’t,” Matt started, smiling down at her. “It’s my treat. To say thank you for helping me.” He looked back at the lady behind the register, handing her the bills. “I’ll take what she got. You can keep the change,” he stated, flipping his wallet closed and slipping it back into his pocket.

“Well…thank you,” she blushed. “I hope you know, I don’t expect anything in return for helping you, Matt. I’m happy to help,” she explained as they made their way back to their table. “I want to help.”

His heart swelled again. “Well, this is me saying thanks.” He sat back down in his seat, smiling when she mirrored him and did the same.

“You know, I’m really glad you messaged me about meeting you here,” she stated, opening her laptop.

Matt’s heart began to race. “O-Oh, really?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, logging into her computer. “I was worried we wouldn’t have enough time to work on this paper,” she continued. Matt felt his shoulders slump, his heart sinking back into his chest.

Right…the paper…

Matt opened his own laptop and logged in as well, opening the familiar Google Doc. His chest rose and fell with a heavy sigh, already bored just looking at the paragraphs he had written the day prior. She laughed softly. “Don’t sound too excited,” she teased. “Look, we’ll take a break in thirty minutes,” she offered. Matt nodded, knowing that any time he could spend with her that wasn’t linked to school was better than nothing. With disdain, Matt opened his online textbook and got to work.

X O X O X O

“Oh, no don’t say that! It was so sweet,” she laughed. “I worked hard on that pie.”

Matt laughed as well, his cheeks flushed pink as he retold the story from their culinary class, expressing how embarrassed he was. “I just had a lot going on in my head that day, I’m really sorry if it made you uncomfortable,” Matt explained.

“Of course not,” she insisted, playfully kicking his foot underneath the table. “I knew what you meant, and it meant a lot to me. I spent the whole night slaving away in the kitchen,” she sighed, smiling at Matt across the table. “That meringue was a bitch to make. I had to restart it like four times.”

Matt chuckled, letting his imagination run wild. Her at home in her kitchen, decked out in her comfiest pajamas, her hair messily tied up away from her face. Flustered and pacing the kitchen in the middle of the night, doing her best to remain quiet while her family slept peacefully upstairs. Throwing her head back in annoyance as she tosses out her third failed attempt at her culinary project that would be due in a few short hours. He never would have guessed that she had any struggle making her project; she carried herself with so much confidence, it was hard to imagine her not being successful the first time around in her baking attempts.

Matt leaned back in his seat, letting out an exasperated sigh. “I never imagined a coconut cream pie would be so difficult to make.”

She gasped, letting out a playful scoff. “Rude,” she teased. She focused her gaze over Matt’s shoulder, her eyes widening. “Holy shit, it’s 7:30 already?”

Matt looked over at the clock behind him, his heart sinking the second he saw the time. “Fuck…” He turned back around, the disappointing reality setting in upon seeing her packing her laptop back up into her bag. “I’m sorry if I kept you out too late-”

“No, no you’re totally fine, Matt,” she insisted, offering him a smile. “I just have so many pictures I need to edit for photography and yearbook…thankfully I’m about halfway done but they all need to be finished by the end of the month,” she explained, standing up and pushing her chair in. She took her coat off of the back of her seat, slipping it on. “But my laptop will explode if I try to import and export a bunch of files onto it for editing.”

“I understand,” Matt nodded, trying to push down the disappointment he felt spreading throughout his chest. “Do you live around here? At least let me walk you home.”

“You really don’t have to, Matt. It’s so cold out-” she took a moment to really look at him. His clothes were thin, definitely not enough to stay insulated and warm.

“A little snow and wind never bothered me,” he stated, slipping his own laptop into his backpack. Matt stood up as well, pulling his own jacket on. “Plus, I’d be a jackass if I let you walk home alone when it’s cold and dark like this.”

She didn’t argue further, quite relieved that Matt insisted on walking her home. Not that Somerville was bustling with suspicious or criminal activity, but walking anywhere at night as a girl was nerve-wracking. “I live about five minutes up the street,” she gestured, and Matt smiled.

“Perfect. C’mon.” Matt slung his backpack over his shoulder, motioning for the girl to follow him. He held the door open for her, watching with a fond glint in his eyes as she turned and thanked the workers with a smile and a wave. She slipped past Matt, stepping out into the cold with him following close behind.

The walk was quiet. Matt noticed this after a few moments as they walked side by side, shivering a little from the brisk wind as it blew past them. Matt pulled his hand out of his pocket, pressing the crosswalk button as they approached the street corner. He had half a mind to reach over and take her cold nimble hand in his own, but he couldn’t build up the nerve to take his chance. Instead, his hand slipped back into his pocket as they waited. “Y’know…” Matt started, the heat from his breath leaving a cloud of condensation in the air. “I really appreciate you helping me out with all of this school stuff.” The crosswalk chirped to life, allowing the two of them a safe path to cross. It beeped every few seconds, indicating the temporary timeframe they had. Matt stepped off of the curb, beginning to walk across the street with her right beside him. “I know you tutor other people too, but-” he looked over at her, his chest tightening at the sight of her. The soft gleam from the streetlamps threw shadows across her face, her irises glistening in the moonlight. Snow continued to fall, catching in her hair just as it had earlier. Matt’s stomach erupted with butterflies, his skin crawling with goosebumps. She looked at him, patiently waiting for him to continue his thought. “It…It just means a lot.”

“Of course, Matt,” she smiled. She moved a little closer to his side, shivering from the cold. “I want you to succeed. That’s why I do what I do,” she finished.

The walk was short. Matt had really hoped he could make it last just a little bit longer, but he knew how cold she was. His heart twinged every time he saw her shudder, wishing he could take the discomfort of the cold away from her, to take the heat from his body and offer it to her. He knew which house was hers, he had only driven past it a hundred times. As they walked up the driveway together, Matt’s footsteps slowed to a stop behind her. She looked behind her when she no longer heard his boots crunching in the snow. “Thank you for walking me home, Matt…Are you sure you can walk back?” She asked, tilting her head at an angle. The moonlight illuminated her skin, just barely hiding the rosy tint dusted across her face. “I’m more than happy to drive you,” she offered, gesturing to her car that was parked in the driveway.

Matt shook his head, snowflakes sprinkling down from his hair. “Nah, I’ll be alright…”

“You sure?” She questioned, looking at him from head to toe. “You’ll be warm enough?”

Matt smiled. “Promise.”

She hesitated. A part of her didn’t want to let him walk home alone in the freezing cold, but he wasn’t budging. “Alright,” she nodded, still hesitant to let him walk off. It was quiet between them for a moment, her gaze meeting his as she looked up through her eyelashes. “Matt?”

Was this it? Is she going to make a move? What a perfect first kiss this would be, out in the snow under the moonlight. Snow melting on their lips. His cold hands finding warmth against her rosy cheeks. Matt blushed at the thought. “Yeah?”

She smiled. “You look good in purple.” And with that, she turned and headed up the front steps, looking over her shoulder at him before disappearing into her house.

X O X O X O

His entire journey home, Matt was completely unphased by the cold weather. Heat flooded his body, warmth surrounded him as he played her words over and over again in his head. He had almost completely forgotten that he picked that entire outfit with the hope that he would impress her, even just a little bit.

You look good in purple.

His head began to spin as her sweet, smooth voice drowned out all of the other thoughts in his brain. Every second of that moment on an endless loop. Her hair bouncing as she walked up her front porch steps, the way her lips curled up into a smile, the warmth in her eyes as she looked at him. He was baffled. How easy it was for her to fluster him. How little she had to do to capture his full undivided attention. How every little detail about her lingers around his memory like a ghost, appearing at random and taking over every aspect of his life until it disappears again.

Matt’s shoes crunched in the thick blanket of snow covering the ground, his eyes glossing over with tears from the sharp brisk winds. The air whistled, snowflakes pouring from the sky, a flurry of pristine glistening white. The tip of his nose glowed red, and he was sure the tips of his ears matched. But he felt none of it. Still riding out the high from spending his entire afternoon with the girl of his dreams, he was sure to stay warm for days.

Upon arriving home, Matt opened the front door and kicked the snow off of his shoes onto the porch. Once he stepped inside and closed the door behind him, he acclimated to the cozy climate inside his home and unlaced his shoes, discarding them by the front door. Chris looked over in his direction when he heard the door shut, greeting his brother with a quick wave before his attention was drawn back to the blinding screen in front of him, readying up for another game.

Matt climbed the stairs up to his bedroom, closing and locking the door. He let out a heavy sigh. What a fucking day. His eyes drifted over to his mirror, and he stood up straighter at the sight of his posture. He stepped closer, eyeing himself over, examining himself. You look good in purple. Matt lifted his hand, his fingers tugging at the collar of his crewneck. You sure you’ll be warm enough? The concern in her eyes. The care in her voice. The shades of pink burning on her cheeks.

Undoing his belt, Matt freed the leather strap from his waist, the metal buckle clinking as it landed on his floor. He kicked off his pants, and went over to his dresser for some comfortable sweatpants to wear. He was not even two seconds into his search before his phone vibrated, and immediately his attention was on searching for something else. He picked his discarded cargos up and dug around in the pockets, finally slipping it out and cradling it in his right hand, tossing his pants onto the floor again with his left.

The notifications stared back at him, and he was afraid for a second that he was dreaming. I have to be, he thought. I definitely am. I’m sure of it. She hadn’t just sent him a snap.

She sent him three.

He wasted almost no time in opening them. His stomach twisted up as the first snap filled his screen. She was still in the yearbook club, her hair was up in a messy ponytail, loose hairs sticking out every which way, but somehow the look suited her. A time stamp was at the top left hand corner. Today, 3:50. His focus moved down to the message on the screen. ‘running a little behind, but I should be there soon!’

He smiled to himself. She had sent him an update after all, it had just never gone through. He felt a shadow of shame lingering over him. How stupid he felt. She never abandoned him, she never bailed. She had every intention of following through. He clicked on the next snap, and an unexpected laugh escaped him.

It was a muted video, that she had also sped up, of her sprinting down the sidewalk. He could pinpoint basic landmarks like his and his brother's favorite gas station, the dispensary a couple of blocks from his house, star market, a few other restaurants and shops, until she had finally crossed into Davis Square and made a beeline for the meet up spot. ‘I am speed’ was the only caption she had put. Matt laughed to himself again, saving the video to the chat.

Finally, Matt opened the final snap. There she was. Fresh as a daisy, decked out in a pair of Coca-Cola pyjamas. A pair of lilac rimmed glasses were perched on the bridge of her nose, her hair tied into a loose braid. His cheeks reddened, admiring the rawness of the photo. No makeup, no filters, just raw authenticity. ‘thank you again for the crepe :) i’ll see you tomorrow at 2:30! be ready to finish that paper!’

Without a second thought he saved the photo to the chat as well. What’s the harm? If she questioned him, he could blame his poor memory, though he wasn’t sure he could ever forget about a session with her.

Her bitmoji popped up in the corner of the screen, watching silently and intimidatingly as Matt’s fingers flew across the keys, and within seconds he was pressing send.

‘hey np. I had a nice time with you.’

‘I did too ;)’

Her bitmoji disappeared, and so did Matt’s sanity. He reread it over and over, denying what was sitting directly in front of him. She couldn’t have meant to send that… there’s no way she meant to send that.

But what if she did? What if it was on purpose? What if it was her shooting her shot? Or what if it’s all a ploy, a trick, just a way to humiliate and make fun of him? Did she know- what kind of a question was that, of course she knew. It was so obvious that Matt would lay down in a puddle of mud just for her to keep her shoes clean. He was certain everyone knew that he would take a bullet for this girl. A girl he had had maybe six interactions with prior to today.

A knock at his door startled him. Matt retrieved a pair of sweatpants and quickly pulled them on. “One sec,” he called out, tying the strings at his waist. Strolling over to the door nonchalantly, Matt unlocked it and opened it, revealing Nick in the doorway. “Oh…what’s up?”

Nick took that as his cue for admission and walked past Matt into his bedroom. “How’d it go?”

“Umm,” Matt cleared his throat. “What?”

“Your-” Nick lifted one hand to make air quotes. “Date.”

“It wasn’t a-”

“Matt-” Nick warned, stopping his brother from continuing. “Close the door.”

He obeyed.

Nick took a seat on Matt’s bed. “You can be real with me.”

“I am-”

Nick gave him a warning glance and Matt sighed, dropping the act. “Are you going to tell Chris?”

Nick weighed his options. On the one hand, he enjoyed bringing chaos into Matt’s life. Hell, he only ever left his room to go to work or school, he could handle a few jabs from his immature brother from time to time. On the other hand, Nick could sense that this wasn’t just some silly little crush. He could tell that this was different. That this was more.

“If I don’t, will you stop pretending?”

Matt hesitated, and then nodded. Nick held out his hand and Matt gave it a firm shake. “So, how was it?”

Matt wanted to word it in a way that Nick could fully comprehend. In a way that he could understand just what Matt was feeling, but he wasn’t sure if there were enough words in the English language to describe that. “She’s unlike any girl I’ve ever met before…”

Nick bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from breaking out into a foolish grin. “Seems pretty average to me,” he shrugged, deadpanning his brother. Matt shook his head in disagreement.

“You don’t understand,” he exhaled. “The way she looked when she walked in, I mean it was just…breathtaking. She’s sweet as sugar, the way she treats people…and I mean we just sat there for a good hour and a half just talking…I told her about that one culinary project-” he laughed, recalling the moment in his head. How her cheeks reddened, how the lights in the cafe seemed to brighten with her smile, how her laugh floated through the air like a breeze on a warm autumn night, lingering and refreshing. “She told me she thought it was sweet,” he said, more to himself than anyone else.

Matt looked back at Nick. “I think I’m an idiot,” he admitted.

Nick laughed. “We’ll I’ve been saying that for years. Not really new news.”

Matt crossed the room specifically to swat Nick on the arm. “I’m serious.”

“So am I-”

“Nick-” Matt warned this time, and Nick gathered himself before nodding once.

“Why do you think you’re an idiot?”

It was quiet between them for a moment, her gaze meeting his as she looked up through her eyelashes. “Matt?” Was this it? Is she going to make a move? What a perfect first kiss this would be, out in the snow under the moonlight. Snow melting on their lips. His cold hands finding warmth against her rosy cheeks.

“I should have kissed her.”

Nick’s eyes glanced down at his phone before he looked back at Matt. “Oh?”

Too caught up in his own thoughts to question Nick’s odd behavior, Matt trudged over to his desk and sat down, folding his arms over the desk and burrowing his head away. “She was right there,” he groaned. “She was right there, right fucking in front of me, and I wanted to kiss her more than anything.”

Nick didn’t say anything for a moment. “Why didn’t you?” He asked quizzically, and a wave of confusion hit Matt in seconds. Why didn’t he? What had been stopping him apart from his own paranoia? Absolutely nothing. She had been standing right in front of him, looking like an angel in the glittering flurry of snow, a halo of light surrounding her from the streetlights making her look otherworldly.

“I…I don’t know.”

Silence followed, neither of them knowing what to say. Matt lifted his head and looked across the room at his brother once more. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know why I can’t speak to her…I just get so nervous that she’s going to think I’m weird or dorky and I shut down…”

Empathy washed over Nick’s face, and he sighed. “I think you’re too hard on yourself, and don’t give yourself enough credit. There’s absolutely no reason why she shouldn’t like you.”

Except for failing my classes, and being unable to form coherent sentences around her, and my awkward personality, and my borderline obsessive need to have her. Those could potentially put a dent in her attraction towards me.

Nick shrugged. “I say just talk to her more.”

Matt looked bewildered. “What like…when she messages me?”

“Or-” Nick started, rolling his eyes. “You could put an effort into making conversation with her.”

Matt hadn’t really considered that. He wasn’t used to taking the initiative to make the conversation, he usually just let people message him on their own time when they needed him. But that felt taboo, almost. To just message her about whatever he wanted to, completely unprompted. Unscripted. No plan to follow, no way to know how the conversation would go. “What if she doesn’t want to talk to me?”

“Then she won’t reply, and you’ll know.” Nick got up off of Matt’s bed and started for the door. “What do you have to lose?” And with that, Nick left Matt in a deafening silence that echoed throughout his room.

Fuck it, he thought, opening his phone back up and clicking on the snapchat icon. He took a long while typing and deleting, until he finally had an acceptable message, and he clicked the send button.

I wanted to let you know that you looked very pretty today.

She popped back into the chat, a habit that Matt had come to grow fond of. She didn’t care about anyone thinking that she was too eager or answering too quickly. She liked to respond quickly. She liked to make people feel seen.

do I not look pretty every day?

The alarm began wailing in his brain, red lights flashing behind his eyes as his thumbs tripped over each other.

Yes! Or wait, no? I think you’re always pretty, you just looked extra pretty today and I wanted you to know.

His heart raced, his palms grew clammy. His eyes darted down to her response, his cheeks glowing a bright red.

i’m just kidding ;) you’re very sweet, Matt.

His cock hardened.

Not funny you really had me panicking over here

aww, poor baby

His dick throbbed. Suddenly he realized that this was probably what had been originally holding him back. An embarrassed blush flooded his cheeks.

Was just trying to be nice

and I think you are nice sweet as sugar :)

The comment set him back a bit, an uneasy feeling twisting up in his stomach. He didn’t have a chance to type a response before a new snap showed up in the chat. Never giving him the opportunity to fully figure her out. Always keeping him on his toes. Her bitmoji waited patiently, eagerly. He swallowed thickly and let his thumb hover over the red box that taunted him. It could be anything, and with her teasing him right now, he truly meant anything. Taking a deep breath in, Matt mentally prepared himself before clicking on it. His already rock hard shaft strained against the cotton refinements of his boxers, a damp spot forming where the arousal drooled from his tip. His heart rate increased, his throat tightened. Her face filled his screen, her lips puckered up into a kiss. “something sweet for a sweet boy.”

It took only a matter of seconds before he had completely ruined his favorite pair of boxers, and only a few more to discard them in the wastebin by his bed.

X O X O X O

Matt hadn’t responded. He had no clue how to. Surely, that had been flirting. What else would you call that? And now as he waited for his brothers to finish getting ready for school, he stared at her chat silently, rereading their chat from the night before. Matt typed a quick message before locking his phone.

Hey sorry fell asleep.

She answered quickly, of course. She always did.

no worries! i figured as much haha. long day

Matt smiled.

Hope you werent too disappointed w my disappearance

oh I was destroyed.

Matt chuckled.

I’m so so sorry, how can I make it up to you?

by getting an A on your paper.

The response nearly knocked the wind out of him. This is her warning. We aren’t friends. We aren’t lovers. She is my tutor, and that is all that she wants to be.

Yes ma’am

Matt slid his phone into his jacket pocket, zipping it up when he heard his brothers thundering down the stairs. He grabbed his backpack and his keys, saying nothing to either of them and starting for the door.

“Guess someone got friendzoned- OUCH!”

X O X O X O

Matt sat in his English class, paying little to no attention to the lecture currently being presented to him. Instead he was lost in his thoughts, unable to shake the uneasy feeling he felt from that morning. But that one comment stuck in him like a thumbtack in a bulletin board. He should have known from the start that there was never anything more and it would always be that way. Besides, what would attract such an extraordinary person to someone who was flunking? At risk of being held back? Why would she hold herself back for someone who wasn’t just as extraordinary as herself?

Still, the uneasiness was eating away at Matt like a flesh hungry bacteria, slowly but enough to be effective. He felt nauseous, the color had drained from his face long before he had even sat down. Nothing made him feel more sick than making a fool of himself, and that was just what he had done.

Would she tell her friends? Would she tell anyone? What about the culinary project story? Would she humiliate him behind his back, spreading the horrifying experience around like wildfire until everyone knew what an obsessive creep he was? Would she screenshot his chats? What did she tell her friends when she was out late with him last night? Matt’s thoughts continued to spiral, pestering his every attempt at thinking of something else. She infected his mind like a disease. Every thought held traces of her, in every memory she would linger. Some days it drove him mad, how he couldn’t seem to escape her.

His phone buzzed and he lifted it, unlocking it immediately upon seeing who it was.

i have an important yearbook thing at 3:30 so we only get an hour today! be ready to lock in on that paper!

Matt pressed the send button, and almost immediately his gaze flickered to the bottom left hand corner of the chat. Even her little bitmoji character made his heart beat a million miles a minute. Matt saw the thought bubble pop up above the character’s head and he immediately swiped out of the chat. The blood in his body rushed to his head, his face growing rosier by the second. He waited a minute to give her time to reply. Then two minutes passed. Then five.

At the seven minute mark, Matt hesitantly swiped back into the chat, his heart sinking once more when he saw the empty left hand corner of the screen. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard on his screen, trying to think of something to say to pull her back into the chat. Anything to intrigue her. Anything to gain her attention. Anything for her to come back to him.

Can I ask u something?

As if on cue, the little character popped up again. And just like before, Matt’s heart fluttered. She never wasted a second, if she could help it. A characteristic that Matt had began to deeply admire about her.

what’s up? :)

Matt felt his blood thin out, his skin crawling with goosebumps as a chill ran through him. His thumbs tapped against the screen, typing and erasing numerous potential messages. All the while, her bitmoji remained stationary in its place at the bottom of the screen, peering out over the top of the message bar. Lingering. Taunting him with it’s cartoonish charm. He had to have erased twelve messages, and yet she refused to swipe out of the chat. He had to give it to her; she really knew how to hold her ground.

Finally, after what had felt like centuries, Matt read over the message he had written and clicked the send button, immediately swiping out of the chat once again and tossing his phone face down onto his notebook. His face flushed a deep red, his palms clammy, the pencil between his fingers trembling. Matt did his best to focus on the words the teacher was saying, scribbling them down sloppily into his notebook which he surely wouldn’t go back and read anyways. Despite his attempts, he couldn’t help himself from glancing at his phone from time to time. His curiosity began to gnaw at him, yet he couldn’t bring himself to pick his device up. The thought that there could be a response from her, and at the same time no response at all, made his stomach twist up into knots. Oh, Schroedinger would have had a field day with him.

The soft buzz from his phone sent a euphoric shot of dopamine straight to his brain. Dropping his pencil onto the desk, Matt picked his phone up and turned it over. His heart stopped upon reading the notification, her name displayed across his screen. The heat in his face began to spread, his ears and neck dusting over with a rosy blush. Finally, Matt unlocked his phone and clicked on her chat. His last message waited at the top of the screen, and he felt a mixture of dread and excitement rush through him.

You busy this weekend ?

not particularly. why, did you want to study more?

Matt pouted. Beggars can’t be choosers, I guess.

Yeah, you got me

He didn’t touch his phone for the rest of the class, not that his phone was bustling with activity anyways. He was disappointed, not necessarily in her but more so with himself. After liking her for four years, four LONG years, he still couldn’t grow the balls to ask her out.

The next time he saw her, she walked past him in the hall, combat boots clunking dully on the linoleum floor as she ignored him completely. Not a glance in his direction or a smile, not even acknowledgement registering in her features. His cock stiffened, solid against the soft fabric of his sweats, and Matt had to duck into the bathroom to avoid utter humiliation. Fuck my dreams he groaned inwardly, trying very hard to think of his wrinkled, withered grandma until the shame left his body. This is bullshit. Once Matt got himself under control, he left the bathroom and bolted for his next class before the bell rang.

X O X O X O

That night, he stared at his ceiling, hard for the fourth time that day. He had been home for a few hours now, and his session with her had gone just fine. He, once again, let his anxiety get the best of him. He let it take control.

“Hey you uh…you never responded to my message.”

“I haven’t been on my phone much today, I’ve spent almost my entire day editing photos for the yearbook…”

Matt looked at her, perplexed. “The whole day?” He questioned. “What about your other classes?”

She waved off his question. “I’m acing them all, so my teachers are pretty lenient with me.” She smiled at him from across the table. “I’m sorry, there has just been so much going on…”

“Hey, no worries at all,” he smiled back. “Just wanted to make sure I didn’t scare ya off.”

She let out a sweet laugh. It circled around him like a favorite tune, making his chest rise as his breath caught in his throat. He had never heard a more beautiful sound before. “Of course not, Matt,” she responded, and her tone was genuine.

Matt hesitated to continue, his hand instinctively coming up to rub the back of his neck. “I uh…I also saw you in the hallway earlier,” Matt noted. Now that he had the context, he made the assessment that she was probably juggling a million different things and simply hadn’t noticed him. Not that it made him feel much better, but at least the neglect wasn’t due to his own stupid mouth. “You looked like you were in a rush.”

She seemed confused for a moment, and then her eyes widened. “Oh my God,” she whispered, rubbing her cheek delicately. “I saw you and didn’t even stop to say hello…I totally meant to-”

Matt silenced her with a soft laugh. “No worries. You’ve got a lot on your plate,” he acknowledged, flipping a page in his textbook. He pretended to scan the page, but his attention was fully on the girl sitting across from him.

“You promise you don’t hate me now?”

His gaze lifted, a smile tugging at his lips. “I think that’d be pretty hard to do.”

She smiled as well. “Really?”

Matt scoffed playfully. “You could shoot me in the foot and I’d apologise for being in your way,” he charmed, earning a giggle from her. Alright, maybe this flirting thing isn’t as impossible as he made it out to seem.

“Well, I don’t imagine holding you at gunpoint any time soon,” she teased right back, flashing him a quick wink before attending to her own paper in front of her. “But, if you don’t start finishing up that paper my mind may change.”

“Can’t argue with that,” he smiled, finally shifting his attention to his schoolwork. He internally groaned. He didn’t want to waste his precious time with her on a boring class assignment that he couldn’t give a single fuck about. Instead of measuring the margins, he should be learning every little detail about her.

Still, Matt knew he had to present her with some sort of final draft, even if it was half assed, because if he didn’t they would reassign him with someone less…distracting. And so, against every desire he had not to, Matt scribbled notes into his notebook and typed away at his computer attentively. Compliantly. Obediently.

Matt shut his eyes tightly. He hated how any little thing about her would set him off. A simple smile or laugh had his knees shaking, his name rolling off of her tongue had the hair on his arms standing at attention. It didn’t matter what it was when it came to her. She could say or do anything, and his dick would be stiff as a board in his pants, aching for more. Something more. Anything more.

Shamefully, Matt huffed and grabbed for his laptop, growling and snarling his complaints in a huff of aggravated arousal. He typed across the keyboard, once again pulling the all too familiar website up. He searched for his favorite video, one that he could always count on to get the job done, and clicked on it when it popped up. The audio began with a female whimper, and he closed his eyes, sinking into his pillow. He let his imagination wander, her beautiful face only inches from his, lips parted, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. His dick strained against his boxers, the waistband lifting just off of his lower abdomen from its desperation. Matt’s hand rested on his cock, applying pressure where he needed it the most. A satisfied sigh passed his lips. He gave his shaft a few slow strokes before pulling back the waistband of his cotton boxers, allowing it to spring free. His arousal leaked from his tip, pooling onto his tummy. His eyes fluttered open for a moment, and he allowed his gaze to fall onto his laptop again. It was in a man’s point of view, and he watched intently as the guy in the video ran his tip over the girl’s pussy a few times before finally easing it inside of her slick entrance. Matt’s brain began to grow fuzzy as he imagined it, his hand squeezing his tip. He could only imagine how good it must feel. If his hand was enough and got the job done all of these other times, he knew he’d be no match for the real thing.

He began to tug up and down, matching the rhythm of the faceless male thrusting into a quietly moaning woman. Matt watched, his eyelids hooded and heavy. Arousal bubbled up in his core, the heat spreading throughout his body, and as the video progressed, he felt a tensing in his lower stomach, a bundle of nerve endings begging to explode. Matt pumped faster and faster, waiting hungrily for the moment of tingling release…and nothing happened. His arm began to ache, his breathing turned shallow, and Matt’s jaw went slack as he panted from the desperation to reach his climax... but his body simply wouldn’t. “Motherf-”

He paused the video and let his limbs collapse onto the sheets, heaving a sigh. Matt’s dick stood at attention, throbbing in pain. He glared at the ceiling for a long moment. That video had never failed him, until now. An idea came to him and Matt reached for his laptop again. Instead of his regular spank bank collection, he entered a new set of keywords; ones that were foreign to his search history, but the concepts themselves had always enticed him. Despite the tempting pull he felt from them, the fear of someone finding out and him becoming the pathetic horny loser always held him back. When the screen loaded, the results did not disappoint. His stomach dropped with arousal at the mere sight of the thumbnails, full of foreign yet delicious imagery. Clicking on the first video, he settled back into his pillow, watching the screen intently. A woman stood entirely bare, slender and beautiful, above a man who really had no noticeably memorable qualities. Without pretense, she gripped the back of his head and buried his lips in her pussy. He moaned, digging into her with his tongue, and she responded by holding him against her body, cutting off his airflow. Matt’s chest began to heave, his nerves lit up with fire, his cock gushing pre-cum, and his hand slipping easily over his wet, aching shaft. The video was over much too soon, and he clicked desperately on the next one. A faceless man laid under a beautiful woman, and she rode his face for eleven minutes. His large firm hands held her thighs with care, deliciously erotic sounds escaping both of them as the man’s tongue expertly satisfied her desire. This was different from the other videos he had seen with the same trope, this one was slow and sensual and passionate. The man cradled the woman like she was the most fragile creature in the universe, his mouth worshiping her as if he was nothing without her. She was the reason his pathetic life had any meaning to it, and this was how he repaid her. He was gentle, not as forceful and rough as the other videos he had seen of men going down on women, his tongue delicately tracing over her sensitive bud, one of his hands sliding up her thigh and resting at her waist. He didn’t make a point of groping her or objectifying her. No, his only point was to please her, to adore her and devote his entire being to her. Three minutes and twelve seconds into the video, Matt let out a low drawn out moan. His cock emptied itself onto his torso, ropes of thick hot cum sticking to his skin. He felt his heartbeat thundering through his skin, and he let his laptop close as he stared blankly at the ceiling, gasping. In no time, he drifted off to sleep.

X O X O X O

Matt pulled his phone into his lap, avoiding the eyes of his teacher, and tapped the notification much too fast. He stared at the message from her for a long moment.

let me look over your paper, they're due tomorrow

He hurriedly typed back a response.

Sure, when?

same time

Cool thank you

mhm

He didn’t want the conversation to stop, he wanted to keep talking to her. Desperation hit him in the gut like a baseball bat. He began to type, his heart rate increasing as her bitmoji watched him tauntingly from the bottom corner of his screen.

Library again?

Matt cringed as he read over his simple question again. You fucking idiot, of course you’re gonna meet up in the library again, where fucking else? His hands grew clammy, she began to type a response, her bitmoji now accessorized with a thought bubble floating above her.

library not good enough for you?

He felt like he could throw up at that very moment. He didn’t mean to sound picky or ungrateful, and he prayed that it didn’t come off that way.

No no no library is fine i just wasn’t sure and thought i’d ask yk?

mhm

Sorry, i really just didn’t know

no need to apologize

Sorry…

Matt 🤦‍♀️

SORRY i’m gonna just stop talking now

You’re kinda weird…i like that abt you

Matt didn't realize he was grinning until Nate nudged him. “Dude, what?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay,” Nate shrugged. He figured it had to do with his mystery crush, but if Matt didn't want to share, he wasn't gonna push. Chris would tell him everything later anyway.

X O X O X O

Matt sat in the library, his leg bouncing. He chewed at his nails, scrolling aimlessly on his phone in an attempt to forget that he'd be seeing her in mere moments.

A tap on his shoulder made him jump, and Matt turned around, looking up at her. His mouth went dry at the sight of her. She wore light washed jeans and an orange zip-up top, the faintest hint of cleavage revealed above the silver zipper. Matt tried his best not to let his eyes wander, but it proved difficult considering her chest was right in his line of vision. He looked up, making eye contact with her and earning a warm smile from her. Hoop earrings dangled against her cheeks, and her hair swept over her shoulders perfectly. Matt momentarily forgot how to breathe, only regaining the ability once she settled on the library table, just as she had done during their first session. “You get that paper finished?” She asked sweetly.

“Um…not particularly,” he responded sheepishly. He was fairly certain she would be upset or, at the very least, disappointed, but she surprised him when she let out a laugh.

“Well, I’ll look over what you have now and give you some feedback and then maybe we can figure out a time after school to finish it up,” she suggested. Matt felt giddy at the idea. Spending another afternoon with her, and only her? He wasn’t sure how he had gotten lucky enough to end up in this situation, but he began to feel less disappointed in himself for falling behind in his classes. If he had kept up, he would have never needed a tutor, and he probably would have never grown the nerve to speak to her again. She smiled at him, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Sound okay to you?”

“Sounds great,” Matt nodded, returning the smile. They both sat there looking at each other for a moment, and Matt felt his stomach twist up into knots.

“I’m in a rush, come on kid,” she said, a faint smile on her face. “Give me your laptop.”

“Oh shit, yeah,” he mumbled, digging in his backpack. Fucking idiot, he thought to himself. “Here.”

“Thanks,” she replied, “What's your password?”

He leaned over and typed in his password that he used for everything, his childhood pet’s name along with the year Matt was born, his shoulder brushing against her shin for a too-short moment. Even from where he was sitting, he could smell her intoxicating perfume. Matt, buddy, get a fucking hold of yourself. He hit enter and leaned back, needing to get out of her personal space.

Why does she have to be so fucking perfect? Why do I have to be such an awkward loser around her? God, if only she knew how I felt, if only she knew what I would do just to see her smile. Would she choose me then? If she knew that my feelings were more than just skin deep?

“Matt,” she said quietly. He glanced up and his brain short circuited.

The laptop screen was filled with the video from the night before. A woman, naked, riding the face of a groaning, begging man. The video had started to play automatically upon unlocking his laptop, the blood drained from his face as the sounds of the bed squeaking and the moaning woman seemed to amplify in the silent ambience of the secluded library. The video continued for far longer than he would have liked, and dread spread throughout every inch of his body. Her eyes never left the screen, but he could see the horrified glisten in her eyes, the way her lips were curled into a frown. If he hadn’t disappointed her before, he surely took the cake with this little stunt.

Matt’s heart dropped out of his ass and through the library floor, caught on fire, and shot right back up into his throat. He scrambled to grab his laptop. “I am so sorry, holy fuck, I-” He was feeling a number of things; fear, dread, self loathing…he felt sick to his stomach with overwhelming sensations of shame and lust. He clicked rapidly on his cursor pad, trying to stop the video. The volume turned up, much to his chagrin, and his face flooded with heat as he slammed his laptop shut, the sounds continuing for a couple of seconds before ceasing entirely, leaving him in the most uncomfortable silence he had ever been in. Matt’s eyes darted across the table, hoping to have an opportunity to explain himself, but he wasn’t even sure what he could say. The proof was right there, she had seen it. He was a desperate horny creep, and any attempt at denying it would only convince her further that her assumptions were true.

She didn't say anything. She refused to even look at him. Matt felt his heart shatter. She slipped off the table, and pulled her bag onto her shoulder. Her eyes were wide and unreadable. She walked away without a word.

X O X O X O

Matt almost threw up. His brain felt cold and fuzzy as he walked out of the school building towards the student parking lot. This had to be a dream. A terrible, awful, horrible dream. This couldn’t be real…

But it was real. He had been sloppy and careless, not taking the extra fifteen seconds to clear his browser history and exit out of the tab. And now he was paying the price for it. The girl of his dreams, the one he had spent years yearning for, the one he had slowly began to make progress with and finally started to feel more comfortable and relaxed around, she couldn’t even look him in the eye. He fucked up. He ruined it. He ruined everything.

Matt hustled his way to the van. He took out his phone and texted the triplet’s group chat. Ride home with Nate. No explanation followed.

He tossed his phone into the passenger seat and turned the key in the ignition, pulling out of the school’s parking lot in dumbfounded silence.

X O X O X O

“Matt, baby, why are you home so early?” Mary Lou’s voice flowed through the house like water through smooth, long-eroded rock walls.

“Bad day,” he grumbled, dropping his backpack and the offending laptop inside of it onto the kitchen floor.

He walked into his parents’ room and flopped on the bed. Mary Lou poked her head out of the bathroom, Clorox wipes in hand. “You wanna talk about it?”

Matt felt tears sting his eyes. “No.”

“Are Nick and Chris coming home with Nate?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to stop asking questions?”

“I don't know.”

She settled onto the side of the bed and began to rub his back. “Whatever it is,” Mary Lou murmured, brushing his hair away from his eyes, “You're gonna be able to move past it. One day does not define you.”

Matt pulled himself up to her thigh and plopped his head onto it, tears slipping sideways down his face. She's never gonna tutor me again. I'm gonna fail my senior year. Nick and Chris are gonna have to graduate without me. Nate is gonna be so disappointed. Chris is gonna be furious. Nick will be heartbroken. Dad is never gonna look me in the eyes again. She thinks I'm a freak. Mom is gonna cry. I’m nothing more than a disappointment. I ruin everything I touch. I can't do anything right. My entire world is crumbling at my feet, and the rest of the world is continuing to turn. I can never leave the house again. I can never show my face in public again. Everyone will know by tomorrow what a freak Matthew Sturniolo is. He could practically hear the whispers now. The judgemental glares, the laughs that would follow him as he passed by. The rumors that would spread…

“Isn’t that the kid that’s addicted to porn?”

“I heard he jerks off at school.”

“He watches porn in class.”

“What a pervert.”

Tears stained the fabric of his mother’s skirt, and she cooed softly as she wiped them from his cheeks. “What are you thinking, honey?” She asked, her tone soft and warm like a blanket fresh from the dryer. He sniffled, choking back a soft sob. Would she speak to him like this if she knew? If she had all of the context, would she still cradle him and wipe his salty tears away? If she was fully in the loop, would she even still love him? He felt ridiculous asking himself that question, but he wouldn’t put it past her.

“I think I just want to sleep,” he croaked, eyes puffy and red from crying.

She brushed his hair from his face again, offering him another welcoming smile. “Okay. You know I’m always here if you ever want to talk.” She reminded him. He felt a bittersweet ache in his chest at the realization that her offer would only be temporary. Once she found out what a disappointing and perverted freak he had turned into, that would be it.

Matt eventually carried himself out of his parents bedroom and climbed the steps slowly up to his bedroom, where he locked the door behind him, shutting everyone and everything out.

X O X O X O

Matt laid in his bed. The lights were off, the door was locked, and he had several unread messages from his brothers. He opened Snapchat and went into his chat with her. He stared at the message bar for what felt like hours, trying to think of what to say, how to excuse what she had seen. He typed and erased six or seven different apologies, his thumbs trembling with each message he wrote out. After his eighth pathetic attempt to save what little dignity he had left, he opted on the most simple, excuseless apology he could muster up.

I'm so sorry about earlier. You don't have to tutor me anymore if you're uncomfortable. I'm sorry.

He clocked out of the app and looked at the time. Way too fucking late. Matt wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight. Her face ran through his mind - the shock, the disgust, the unreadable look in her eyes. I fucked up. I fucked up bad.

His phone buzzed, and he hoped against hope that it was her.

Holy fuck it's actually her. He stared at the notification for an eternity, knowing his heart was about to be shattered into a million pieces. Matt tapped on the pale white bar, opening the app instantly.

A moment later, he shot out of bed, his phone falling onto the comforter. As Matt threw on a crew neck and sweatpants, pulling on socks in less than ten seconds, his phone glowed faintly in the dark room.

She had sent him three words and an address.

Apologize in person.

Matt snatched his keys, slipped his phone into his pocket, and tore out of the house.

X O X O X O

𖥔‧₊˚ ⊹ Tags 𖥔‧₊˚ ⊹

@flowerxbunnie @megamett44-lover @xtravrgnoliveoil @mattsturnswife @sturniolofan4lifee @soursturniolo @sturnioz @luverboychris @meerkatzthings @soupuurr @gemofthenight @hi-7-hi @blahbel668 @mattspleasure @sturnybabes @jjmaybankswifes-blog @sturniolosreads @bernardsleftbootycheek @egirlshit @nonamegirlxsturniolo @chrizz333 @sturniolopowers @mattsleftnipple03 @worldlxvlys @hearts4chriss @janiellasblog @creamoncreamoncream2 @meg-sturniolo @ellie-luvsfics @lustfulslxt @braindead4l @ghostlythinggoingaround @taekwite @querenciasturniolo @m4ttslvr @mqttittude @bewtyschooldropout @lovesturni0l0s @zebonos @h3arts4harry @riowritesitall @freshloveforthefit @esioleren @colorthecosmos444 @mbbsgf @kitkatbar1275 @fratbrochrisgf @sturnslutz @mattscoquette @wurlibydominicfike

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xplringsturniolos · 19 days ago

Text

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: in which Matt is failing his classes and at risk of having to repeat the semester, and his tutor is the reason behind it.

𝕯𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗: This is a collaborative story that me and another person started on, but I am in charge of it now :) All characters in this story are of age. None of the characters are minors.

𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 3,700

Previous parts: Intro / One / Two /

He tossed and turned that night, unable to get the dream out of his head. It had all felt so real. He could smell her perfume, waves of vanilla surrounding him as he laid at her mercy. He could feel her touch, her soft fingers running along his skin, a trail of goosebumps following close behind, warmth encompassing him. He could hear her voice, soft praises and coos of adoration falling from her lips, her tone warm and sweet, flowing like maple syrup dripping from a stack of pancakes. He could taste her lips as she kissed him, her cherry chapstick driving him wild as he nipped at her bottom lip. He could see her electrifying gaze as they locked eyes, his orgasm rushing through his body like a lightning bolt striking a tree. It felt so real…

He tried to fall asleep again, really he did. He wanted to fall asleep again. He wanted to drift back into the heavenly dream he had previously found himself in. He prayed to whatever higher power would listen to him, begging to be transported back into his dream. After twenty minutes of tossing and turning, peeking over at his alarm clock, groaning in annoyance, and repeating the cycle, Matt found himself sitting up in his bed. He grabbed his phone from his nightstand, unplugging it from the charger that was barely holding itself together after years of use. He tried to distract himself, hoping that the incessant scrolling and non-stimulating content would lull him to sleep. Unfortunately, he wasn’t that lucky. Even after scrolling through and switching between apps, Matt only found himself wide awake, annoyed, and horny.

Undeniably, uncontrollably, unbelievably horny.

Matt opened the Safari app on his phone, clicking the address bar. The all too familiar website popped up without him even needing to type anything, a clear sign that he had made this search far too many times. Matt made a mental note to clear his search history as he clicked on the site, waiting impatiently for it to load.

He scrolled through page after page, briefly glimpsing at the exaggerated titles to each video, none of which captured his interest. He let out a frustrated grunt, his dick straining against the cotton fabric of his boxers. He wanted nothing more than to jerk off, to get rid of the incessant throbbing so that he could just sleep, but unfortunately for Matt, he was picky with the porn he watched. Chris made fun of him for it, but he didn’t care. Seeing a woman bent over on some AirBnB couch getting the shit railed out of her, filling the empty disconnected atmosphere with obnoxious sounds, feigning the one thing he truly craved; he just couldn’t bring himself to watch something so meaningless, nonetheless enjoy it. Nothing about it was appealing to him. It wasn’t real. He wanted something real.

But he had no idea how he felt about actual sex. He’d kissed a few times, but never with tongue and nothing past that. The furthest he had ever gotten was the time he made out with a girl in ninth grade and creamed his pants when she straddled his lap. Matt was always insecure about his inexperience, afraid that when the time finally came, he would disappoint. This was brand new territory for him…and it was all her fault.

His gaze flickered to the top of his phone, reading the time that was displayed on the screen. “Holy shit,” he muttered. It was much too late in the night for him to still be awake, and yet here he was, pulling on a pair of faded flannel pyjama pants before shuffling over to the door. His fingertips grazed over the handle, unlocking the door and slowly pushing it open. Matt looked down the dark hallway, and once he was sure everyone was asleep, he carefully tiptoed over to the stairs.

Each step had Matt tensing up, the old wooden floorboards groaning and squeaking under the weight of his feet. He cringed at a particularly loud step, even pausing for a moment to ensure he hadn’t woken anyone up. After another painfully long three minutes, Matt finally reached the bottom of the steps and made a beeline for the kitchen. In seconds he found himself standing in front of Nick’s bedroom door, and Matt raised his hand to knock but he hesitated. He leaned closer, his ear ghosting over the old faded wood. The muffled sound of the tv could be heard, along with Nick’s agitated remarks. “Are you fucking kidding me? You don’t fucking deserve her and now you’re getting her voted off!?” Matt smiled to himself. Once he was sure that his brother was awake and not murmuring nonsense in his sleep, he knocked on the door.

“God fucking- Yeah! Come in!.”

He opened the door to see the room bathed in lavender LED light, the television playing whatever show Nick had suddenly found interest in. Tonight, it just so happened to be one of those ridiculous dating reality TV shows. Nick sat in his bed, his back propped against pillows, legs stretched out and arms crossed over his stomach. He turned his head the second the door opened, half expecting Mary Lou to come lecture him for being too loud, but he relaxed upon seeing his brother in the doorway. “Jesus, you can’t sleep either?” Nick huffed. “Get in here.”

Matt furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, until he saw Chris’s head poke up from the other side of the bed. He was sitting on the floor, for whatever reason, and he flashed a cheesy grin when he saw his brother standing in the doorway.

“Why are you on the floor.”

“Wow, nice to see you too Matthew,” Chris rolled his eyes. “Nice of you to show your face at-“ he held up his arm, looking at his bare wrist. “Two thirty in the morning.”

“Ignore him,” Nick mumbled, rolling his eyes and grabbing the remote controller from his nightstand to pause his show. “He’s annoyed because Nate left him hanging-“

Chris huffed, an inaudible response following as he turned back around and sunk back down onto the floor. The other two shared a look of irritation at the sound of Chris typing on his phone, the younger of the trio completely unbothered by the incessant clicking. Rolling his eyes, Nick looked at Matt expectantly. “Well?”

Matt sighed, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. He sulked over to Nick’s bed, collapsing onto the empty side as his brother moved over to make space for him. Matt wriggled under Nick’s blankets, keeping his face buried in the pillow.

“What’s wrong,” Nick said, his tone changing the question to a demand.

The keyboard sounds paused for a moment. “Yeah, your vibe is like…weird,” Chris added. He langered up from the ground and sat on the edge of his brother’s mattress. “You didn’t talk to us like all afternoon.”

Matt sighed, questioning if he should say anything at all. But his brothers were his sanctuary. He always told them everything. It was eating him up inside, keeping this from them. He wasn’t good at keeping secrets, especially from the two people that could always read him like a book. He wanted to tell them everything; his grades, the tutoring, her.

He decided to take one life crisis at a time.

“...There’s a girl,” He started.

Nick shrieked. Chris looked at Nick, punching him in the upper arm as a proud smile formed on his face. “I fucking told you, you owe me lunch tomorrow.”

Matt looked up from the pillow, furrowing his eyebrows yet again. “You knew?”

“Well no shit,” Chris laughed. “You? Willingly going to the library? I put the pieces together,” he smirked. “So what were you doing in the library with this girl?” he teased.

Matt felt his face flush with heat, shooting a glare in Chris’s direction. “Nothing you’re thinking, pervert. We…” he trailed off. I can’t tell them I'm failing. I just can’t do it. “We were going over a project for English. That’s it.”

“Do we know her?” Nick asked as he opened instagram up on his phone. He wasn’t disinterested, but he knew how his brother was. Matt got embarrassed easily, so on the rare occasion that Nick did want to know more, he also knew that he had to be mindful of his reactions. Nonchalance was his best bet.

Matt huffed. Chris’s eyes widened and his smile grew. “No fucking way.”

“Chris-“

“Still?! It’s been four years, man!”

Nick looked back and forth between the two, confused by their exchange. Matt groaned, flopping back down face first into the pillow. “Matt liked this girl in our grade back when we started high school, but couldn’t grow the nuts to ask her out,” Chris filled Nick in. “We had her in our woodshop class last year and it was like I was partners with a brick wall,” Chris laughed, only making Matt all the more embarrassed. “I didn’t think you still liked her.”

“Shut up,” he groaned.

Nick finally decided to chime in, dropping his phone onto his chest. “Wait a second, it’s not that girl from your weird baking class was it?”

Matt’s face grew even more red, if that was even possible. “Nick, shut up-“

Now it was Chris’s turn to tilt his head quizzically, brow furrowed, looking at Nick expectantly for some context. “Baking class? The fuck-“

“Introduction to culinary,” Matt corrected them, hiding his face with the palms of his hands.

“You were probably at practice or something,” Nick dismissed his younger brother with a wave of his hand before continuing. “Matt’s cooking class had some weird competition thing after school, me and mom went to it-“

“Nick, shut the fuck up,” Matt warned his brother, though his threat was open ended and held no real weight to it. He rolled onto his side, his back facing his brothers.

“Matt made this god awful chicken parmesan, but mom pretended to like it-“

Matt huffed, crossing his arms over his chest now. “It wasn’t that bad-“ he defended, remembering the way his mother cupped his face and kissed his forehead in the middle of the classroom, praising him for his hard work, all the while his brother discretely tossed his plate into the garbage bin out of sight.

“Anyways, we all got to try everyone’s food and this girl made the BEST fucking coconut cream pie. Chris, it was actually unreal how fucking good it was-“

“Nick I swear to fuck-“

Chris smiled in amusement, criss-crossing his legs as he indulged himself in Nick’s story telling. It was rare for Chris to remain quiet like this, but at the expense of his brother’s ego, he remained engaged and attentive. Matt groaned, realizing there was no way to stop his brother from telling this embarrassingly awful story. He yanked the pillow out from behind his head, letting his head fall back onto the mattress before pulling the pillow over his face, wanting nothing more than to suffocate himself right then and there.

“This motherfucker tries the pie, looks her dead in the eyes, and tells her he likes her cream-“

Matt flinched at the ferocity of Chris’s laughter thundering throughout the room, echoes of it bouncing off of the walls. The sound was followed by countless shushes from Nick, beckoning their brother to keep his voice down. “Mom and dad are sleeping you idiot,” Nick hissed, smacking Chris on the arm. Usually, Chris would retaliate and hit him back, but he was far too entertained by the story to even care about the sting he felt on his bicep.

“You told her-“ he cut himself off, laughing again. Matt groaned and rolled over onto his back, pressing the pillow into his face with more force. Maybe if I press down hard enough, I’ll suffocate myself. “You told her you liked her cream?” Chris managed to force out between giggles.

“No-“ Matt grunted, closing his eyes tightly as he felt the pillow being snatched from his grasp. “I told her I really liked her cream.”

This, of course, causes another fit of giggles to rise from Chris’s chest. Tears flooded his eyes as he leaned forward, doing everything within his power to keep his volume at a decent level. Nick rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t contain the toothy grin that snuck its way onto his face. “You guys suck,” Matt grumbled. “This is like middle school humor, grow up,” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest once again. He tried to push the memory out of his mind, but it crept up on him and lingered, like a monster in the shadows. Her fingers grazing past his as she handed him a plate, her gaze locking with his as he eagerly tasted her homemade dessert, the words escaping him faster than he could even think.

Chris sniffled, grasping his shirt collar as he found himself finally settling after his laughing fit. He laid himself between his brothers, wrapping an arm over the front of Matt’s shoulders. “I love you, man. You crack me up,” he grinned, another string of giggles threatening to escape him as he replayed the moment in his head again.

“I can’t ask her out, not after that-“ Matt mumbled, carefully uncrossing his arms so as to not disturb his brother’s comfortable resting position. He’d never admit it, but he quite enjoyed his brothers being touchy with him. Something about it made him feel safe and connected with them. It felt like home.

“Maybe she found it flattering,” Nick suggested. “She probably knew you were talking about the pie-“

“Or were you?” Chris smirked, raising an eyebrow at Matt.

In a swift motion, Matt walloped Chris in the bicep, shooting him a look that made Chris shiver. “Alright dude, my bad.”

Matt looked over at Nick, desperation clear in his eyes. “What the fuck do I do, man? I can barely fucking focus during our study sessions,” he sighed.

Nick’s eyebrows furrowed. “I thought you were working on a project?”

Matt felt his heart drop, his mouth going dry. Fuck. He needed to lie, and he needed to do it fast. “Same thing, you know what I meant,” he mumbled. He pushed Chris’s arm off of his upper chest, rolling his eyes when Chris moved his arm right back to where it had been seconds prior.

Nick dismissed Matt’s previous statement, not thinking too much of his slip up. “Tell her she’s pretty and ask her out. She is pretty, right?”

Matt’s eyes closed, his chest falling with a deep exhale. All he could think about was her. Her smile, her eyes, her laugh, her voice…Once he had started to feel his dick stiffen in his pyjama pants, he opened his eyes once more, staring at the ceiling. “I can’t even find the words, man.”

“Then it should be easy. Can we be done here? I’m trying to see who’s gonna get voted off next,” Nick mumbled, leaning back against the headboard of his bed, his focus shifting back to the television on his dresser.

X O X O X O

Matt hadn't gotten much sleep that night. He watched with heavy eyes as the numbers on his alarm clock changed; every sixty seconds felt like an hour. His head spun, his imagination driving him crazy with fake scenario after fake scenario, conversations that would never happen, touches they would never share. His heart felt heavy. Matt huffed, rolling over onto his other side. He winced, his hand moving to relieve the ache between his legs. Never in his life did Matt feel as sexually frustrated as he did now. Even when he went through puberty, it was never like this. The desire burning in him was a flame so ancient, yet so ripe at the same time. Foreign, yet familiar. A primal hunger for physical connection, a thirst for release. Diseased with lust. It felt wrong to feel this way, to crave any piece of her. Hell, he hardly knew her. But God, it felt so right at the same time. To crave her, to need her, to have her all to himself. It was enthralling. Perpetual. Addicting.

The only downside to it was the sneaking around. He hated lying to his brothers, it made his stomach flip and his palms sweat, but he was far too embarrassed and ashamed to admit what was really going on. To admit that if he wasn’t nearly doomed to repeat senior year, she would have never even looked his way.

Although it wasn’t ideal, being in this tutoring program gave him a newfound purpose. And, yes, there was a possibility that the program itself wasn’t the only aspect that had Matt leaping out of bed in the morning.

It was strange. He had never spent so long trying to get ready in the mornings before school. Usually he’d throw on the nearest pair of sweats and whatever hoodie he had laying around in his room. But now it was different. He wanted to look good; he wanted to look good for her. He felt ridiculous, to say the least. Outfit after outfit, pulled on and quickly discarded into a pile on the floor. Matt huffed, going to his dresser and opting on a pair of cargo pants instead of his usual sweatpants.

It would be worth noting that February in Somerville Massachusetts is cold. Very fucking cold. By deciding on the cargos, Matt was also sacrificing his comfort and warmth…but if she would even notice or say anything, it would be worth it. And so, Matt snatched a purple crewneck from his closet and turned, shutting the door with his heel as he pulled it on over his head. He finished off the outfit with his air forces that were falling apart at the seams and, before he left his bedroom, he went back to his dresser, opening the top drawer. He dug around through the plethora of socks, his fingers brushing over the cold glass bottle buried beneath them.

He didn’t usually wear cologne. He couldn’t even remember how he had gotten this bottle in his possession. But none of that mattered to him now. All that mattered was making the best impression that he could. He was mindful; only one spritz on the neck and one on his wrists. He buried the bottle back into his sock drawer before rushing to his full length mirror. He fixed his necklace, ensuring that the clasp was at the back of his neck. Matt ran his fingers through his hair, fluffing it and fixing it, huffing in annoyance as it fell right back into place. Once he was satisfied with his look, he grabbed his favorite coat from where it hung on the back of his desk chair and snatched his backpack from the corner of the room. He closed his bedroom door behind him as he left, flicking the light to his room off, and began his descent to the kitchen where his brothers were already waiting. He pulled his coat on, taking the last step down the staircase. Matt rounded the corner, passing the family room and finally stepping foot into the kitchen.

Nick’s gaze was locked on his phone, though he still managed to greet Matt. “Do you have a fucking herd of elephants up in your room?” He mumbled.

Matt’s face reddened. “Huh?”

“You-” Nick looked up, and immediately his brow furrowed with suspicion. “It’s nine degrees out and you chose today to not wear sweatpants?” He questioned.

Chris looked over his shoulder from where he sat at the island, shoulders hunched, his mouth full of toast. He didn’t bother waiting to swallow his food before speaking, though that came as a shock to neither of his brothers. “The fuck…you’re gonna turn into an ice cube.” Chris’s eyes widened as he took his phone out of his jacket pocket. “Wait, now I wanna listen to Ice Cube-“

Matt pointed at Chris languidly. “Not happening, I’m getting aux.”

Chris huffed, dropping his phone face down onto the countertop. “Fuck you,” he mumbled under his breath, shoveling the remaining piece of toast into his mouth. Matt shuffled over to the fridge, eyeing the contents inside. His stomach growled, but nothing seemed appetizing. He checked the pantry next, snatching a granola bar and a bag of mini muffins, stuffing them into his coat pocket. He closed the pantry door with gentle intent. His brow furrowed at the feeling of his phone vibrating in his pocket, but once he pulled it out and checked the notification, his heart leapt into his throat. Matt’s ears glowed a bright red, his palms beginning to sweat as he typed his password in and opened Snapchat.

Snapchat // New Message

no tutoring today, extra curricular stuff (groan). keep working on your essay and i’ll check it tmrw :)

Matt stared at the message, his heart sinking in his chest. All of the effort he put into his appearance today was for nothing. He exhaled, leaning against the wall as he thought of what to say. Something nonchalant, something cool…anything that didn’t scream desperation.

Oh ok.

He had to admit, he was disappointed. He had really been looking forward to seeing her again. He thought for a moment before he opened his Snapchat again, clicking back into the chat.

Yk I’m free after school if your still up for it.

He stared at the message for a long time; so long that her bitmoji had popped up in the bottom left corner, peeking out over the text bar. ‘Jesus Matt,’ he thought to himself. ‘For once in your life, grow some fucking balls.’

He clicked the send button and, with just as much haste, he fled the chat and locked his phone, shoving it back into his pocket. “If you’re not in the car in five minutes I’m leaving without you,” Matt announced, walking past Nick towards the stairs, making his way down to the mudroom to leave. Nick lifted his head again, looking towards the staircase with a furrowed brow.

“Are you fucking wearing cologne?!”

𖥔‧₊˚ ⊹ Tags 𖥔‧₊˚ ⊹

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xplringsturniolos · 19 days ago

Text

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: in which Matt is failing his classes and at risk of having to repeat the semester, and his tutor is the reason behind it.

𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 5,906

Other Parts: Intro / One / Two / Three / Four /

“W-Wait, what?” Matt’s eyes widened, his eyebrows raising. “What do you mean I might not be able to graduate?”

The school counselor sighed, lifting her glasses from the bridge of her nose and placing them onto her desk. She leaned back in her plush swivel chair, looking at the nervous boy sitting across from her. Her office was comforting, a place that Matt had found solace in quite often on his bad days. She never used the overhead light, always opting for the warm glow of her floor lamps and the flicker of light from the flame in a scented candle. Her bookshelves were littered with not only books, but numerous knick-knacks and do-hickeys. Most people would have seen it as clutter, but Matt found comfort in the items she had, which more or less reminded him of his grandmother’s house.

She turned her monitor for him to see, and she visibly saw the blood drain from his face. Her screen glowed with a much harsher light, the gradebook showing Matt’s transcript laid out in front of him. “You’re proficient in your American History class, but the rest of your classes for the semester are in the gutter. Socioeconomics, U.S. Government, European Literature, and Chemistry are all greatly negatively impacting your overall grade point average.” Matt’s head fell, his hands coming up to rub his face. How could I have let it get this bad? How could I be so negligent? How was it even possible? She clasped her hands together and leaned forward, resting her arms on her desk. She had grown to like Matt, he was polite and always greeted her with a smile, he was very open with his thoughts and feelings, and he really did work hard. She empathized with him, because she knew how it felt to be in this spot. “This is a reversible situation - we can fix this. You have options, Matt.”

Matt looked up from his lap, his hands falling onto his thighs. “W-We can?”

“Yes,” she replied with a smile. She swirled her chair around, unlocking one of the drawers in her filing cabinet and opening it to reveal a number of filing folders. She fingered through them before pulling out a sheet, turning her chair back towards her desk and placing it down in front of Matt. “We have a tutoring program available, and I think you would benefit greatly from it.”

“Tutoring?” Matt frowned, staring down at the paper. He never thought in his life that he would need tutoring. How embarrassing. I’m doing so bad in my classes that I need another student to teach me. What if I know them? What if they tell everybody? Matt looked back up at the counselor, hesitation clear on his face. “Are there any other options?”

She sighed, putting her glasses back on and turning the monitor to face her once again. Matt watched intently as she clicked her mouse a few times. Matt instinctively brought his hand to his face, subconsciously beginning to chew on his nails. I can’t choose tutoring. Chris and Nick will never let me hear the end of it. This is so embarrassing. Can’t I just retake a test or something? Why did I let it get this bad?

“Unfortunately, the only other option I have here is for you to retake these classes again…which would also mean repeating senior year.”

Matt hadn’t realized he had chewed his nail off. He dropped his hand back to his lap, discreetly spitting it out when she wasn’t looking at him. “I’ll take the tutoring,” Matt sighed. The thought of not graduating with Nick and Chris made him feel queasy. His stomach turned over just thinking about his brothers walking across that stage while he sat in the audience and watched. His brothers holding their diplomas up with cheesy smiles on their faces for their pictures that would surely be framed and hung on the walls of their parents’ house for the remainder of their lives; all while Matt would have to wait another year to meet the same fate. Another year of high school, this time without his brothers. Without Chris to make him laugh, to make the day move by just a little quicker. Without Nick, who always looked out for Matt, always offering to ask the teacher any questions that Matt had to take the heat off of him, to avoid any anxiety inducing feelings that Matt might have had. I can’t do it. I wouldn’t last a day without them. Any chance to avoid that outcome is one he would take, no questions asked.

x o x o x o

I should have asked some fucking questions. Matt’s heart pounded as he pretended to look at something on his phone, switching between his social media apps anxiously; not that any of them were bustling with activity, he just needed something to make himself look busy. She was here. I wasn’t prepared to see her. Holy fuck.

For the past four years, Monday through Friday, once the bell rang after the final class of the day, Matt had booked it for the locker room. Shuffling through a crowd of boys, shoving Chris (and getting shoved right back), listening to a variety of music through his headphones, and throwing on his gear for lacrosse or hockey. Today, however, he sat awkwardly in the school library, leg bouncing, chewing at the skin around his pinky fingernail. His airpods tucked away in his pocket. No music to drown out his thoughts. Why didn’t I ask more questions? I can’t do this; I can’t be here with her. This can’t be happening. She…looks so pretty.

Across from him, a few tables over, she sat on the table itself, cross-legged and completely at ease. A light blue sweater hung off her shoulders, a pair of khaki cargos crinkled over her legs, worn-out white air forces, and a pair of hoop earrings rounded out the simple, gut-wrenching outfit.

Matt hated feeling this way. She drove him insane, and she had no idea who he was. That was a lie - they had a few classes together. Incidentally, those same classes glowed red in the gradebook. It didn’t take him very long to figure out why.

For the past four years, Matt had walked into school every morning hoping in equal measure that she had shown up and that she had suddenly become homeschooled. Every single class, he would stare at the door just hoping he’d catch a glimpse of her, whether she was walking into the classroom or just passing by in the hallway. He knew where to look for her in the hallways between classes, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel his heart rate pick up when he’d see her in the flood of other students chaotically herding through the halls.

Now she was his tutor. She was the reason he was failing, and she was his tutor. His counselor had no way of knowing, but she had just doomed Matt to repeat senior year. He was not about to sit down with that girl and make a complete idiot out of himself.

Lifting his backpack and hooking the strap over his shoulder, he got up and turned for the door. At that moment she looked up from her book, her eyes locking with his, and he froze.

Her hair fell softly along the edges of her face, and she looked at him with mild curiosity. Matt’s breath hitched in his throat. Years of her never even noticing me, and now she’s looking at me and…smiling. Oh god.

Don’t you dare fuck this up, he heard Chris whisper in the back of his mind. “Fuck off,” he muttered and began to walk towards her.

“Is this where I’m supposed to be for uh…” He didn’t want to say it. Normally people would jump in and finish sentences anyway to avoid uncomfortable silences. She did not. She just continued to look at him with minimal interest, her smile growing a little in amusement. Oh god. This isn’t happening. Somebody please pinch me. Or shoot me.

Matt felt the heat rising to his face, his breath catching in his throat as she stared at him. “Tutoring. I’m here for tutoring.”

She slipped a bookmark between the pages of the book she was reading and pulled a knee up to her chest. Matt caught a glimpse of the cover of the novel, furrowing his eyebrows a bit. A hockey player? I play hockey. Should I say that? Does she like hockey players? Lacrosse is like hockey… in some ways. Lacrosse season is coming up. Should I-

“You’re Matt, right? One of the triplets?”

Matt blinked. “Yeah.”

She smiled again, placing her book down onto the table. Icebreaker? Matt made a mental note to look that up later. “I think we share a few classes, right?”

“We have Socioeconomics, European Literature, and Chemistry together, and when Chorus comes into the auditorium to practice, I run the soundboard for you. You took Workshop with me and Chris, and I could never focus on a single project me and him had together. We had Math and Introduction to Culinary together last year, all of our electives the year before that, and in ninth grade you were in my home room and study hall. You’ve always been in my lunch block, and you like to eat out in the courtyard under the willow tree far away from the picnic benches. You’re in the photography and Yearbook club because you love to take pictures, and you also run the school’s yearbook account on Instagram. You never get breakfast because it hurts your stomach to eat in the mornings but if you forgot to have dinner the night before, you’ll go through the line in the cafeteria and get an old-fashioned donut and a cup of mixed fruit. You prefer peppermint gum over spearmint, you always wear shimmer lip gloss instead of clear, you chew on your lip when you’re thinking really hard, you write sloppily when taking notes, but your papers are written in cursive. You’re terrifyingly beautiful, and I’ve wanted to talk to you for four years.”

That’s what Matt thought about saying. Instead of opting for that particular route of social suicide, however, he simply went with, “Yeah, I think we have one or two together, right?” and sat his bag down.

Don’t fuck this up. You cannot fuck this up.

x o x o x o

“Ms. Coleman said you were behind in some classes,” she said, pulling out her laptop from her bag. “Which ones?”

‘All of them’, He thought to himself. Matt sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “What am I not behind in?” he mumbled.

She looked up at him through her lashes. Matt felt his stomach twist up in knots. He had imagined her looking at him like this more times than he could count. Usually late at night when he was in bed, his hand wrapped around his cock, his eyes screwed shut as he bit back soft whines and whimpers as his arousal leaked into his fist. He couldn’t help but feel his pants tightening around his crotch as filthy thought after filthy thought played in his head.

She smiled at him again, and Matt suddenly realized that she had been speaking. His stomach dropped. “S-Sorry, what?” he stammered. She laughed softly, a sound that made Matt’s heart leap up into his throat. “I asked if you could be a little more specific.”

Matt cleared his throat. “Um, Government, English, Socioeconomics, and Chem.” He looked down at his hands in his lap, the thoughts from earlier looming over him. I won’t graduate. Mom will be so disappointed. Dad won’t speak to me for a year. Chris and Nick will move on in life without me. She probably thinks I’m an idiot. Who the fuck fails almost every class in their last semester?

He could have sworn he felt his heart come to a full stop when he felt her hand on his shoulder, his head snapping up in an instant. “Hey,” she cooed as Matt met her gaze once more. “We’ll fix this. We have four months until graduation. You have time.”

Yeah, time to spend my afternoons drooling over you and retaining no information. Four months to sit here and gawk at you every fucking afternoon while my grades continue to plummet. Four months of me rushing home after these tutor sessions to beat off before Nick and Chris get home from their after school extra curriculars. Either way, I’m failing this semester.

“Why don’t we start with English, hm? I’m in that class with you, third period. We have a paper due on Friday.” She opened her laptop, pressing the power button repeatedly. Matt swallowed the lump in his throat – fuck. The paper… he was hoping to avoid it altogether. Sensing his hesitation, she raised her eyebrows. “Have you started it?”

Matt blinked. He licked his lips, suddenly noticing how dry they were. “...No.”

“Me neither,” she grinned, and Matt felt his shoulders relax. She had a beautiful smile, and it so rarely appeared on the Somerville High property, even less so in the classes they’d shared. It made him wonder what else he could do or say to make it stay for longer.

“It’s okay,” she continued, tapping away at her keyboard, urging the ancient relic to awaken and let her log on. “We can write it together.”

“Yeah, sure…together,” he said, taking out his own laptop, proud that he had enough focus to keep his hands steady. He wanted to make her smile again, but he hadn’t the faintest idea how. Matt also wanted to crawl into the floor and sleep for an eternity, but his wishes seemed to have no substance. His grades did, and more than anything, he knew he wouldn’t forgive himself if he made Chris and Nick leave him behind. Punctuating his thoughts with a deep sigh, Matt pulled up the assignment rubric. “Three pages, double spaced - that’s not bad - third page sources cited…” As he scanned the page, she, still waiting on her dinosaur of a computer to come to life, leaned closer to him to see for herself.

Her perfume. Waves of vanilla with floral notes. Undertones of musk. It was strong but intoxicating. Matt used every ounce of self-control to not turn towards her and inhale as much of it as he could. She had been using this perfume for the past three years, and Matt had become obsessed with it. He was like a stoner catching a whiff of weed, he could identify it from a mile away. He could sniff her out like a bloodhound if he really wanted to. Matt begged his brain to behave.

It didn’t.

The aching in his pants grew. Matt pulled his hoodie down to cover his lap, he could not let her see what she did to him. He felt his face heat up as embarrassment flooded his brain. Still, his cock remained half hard and his balls felt heavy with arousal. Despite knowing how wrong it was, he wanted nothing more than to rub one out. Matt used every iota of his self-control to focus on puling the assignment up on his computer. One hour. I just need to get through this one hour.

x o x o x o

“How long have you been tutoring?” Matt wanted to know more about her. It was a near-feverish affliction that kept his leg bouncing continuously, releasing nervous energy at speeds that could power the entire city of Boston.

She didn’t look up at him, pulling up the assignment on her computer. “I started last year…gave me a chance to get out of Johnson’s eighth period. Do you know why you’re falling behind in Philosophy?”

Matt didn’t hear her question at all. The stickers on her laptop were incredibly distracting - he caught a glimpse of Homer Simpson, the Monster logo, a few Pokémon, numerous band logos, Marilyn Monroe, a sick vaporwave statue head, and a plethora of raccoons. I like raccoons. Now is probably not the best time to tell her that. “Huh?”

She glanced over through her lashes, and Matt felt his air supply vaporize. “I asked why you’re failing.”

Because you walk into the room and I forget how to speak my own damn language. Because I want to talk to you so bad, but my throat closes up when you look at me. Because when you smile it makes my legs heavy…But more than anything, because I want you in ways that I have never wanted anyone before, and it is all that I can think about. No matter where I am at or who I am with, you manage to take over every thought in my head. Movie nights with my brothers where I can drown out the movie, daydreaming of what you might look like waking up next to me in one of my shirts. Dinner with my family, wondering if you like whatever it is that we’re eating that night. In the shower, wondering what your routine is like. Late nights in my room, the door locked and the lights off, clothes discarded onto the floor, my hand tugging at my cock. You are always there. You’re the reason why I’m failing, and you don’t even know it.

Matt settled on, “It’s hard to focus in there.” Not a lie. But not even close to the truth.

She nodded. “She talks in circles sometimes.” A pause made his eyes dart up to hers, terrified that he’d missed something again. But no, she was…studying him.

Her head tilted slightly, and her hazy eyes rested on his. He wondered what she was thinking about, and something primitive in his mind was screaming at him to hide. He felt vulnerable, weak under her gaze. His cock throbbed. Matt did his best to bite back the soft groan that fought to escape his throat.

“I think you might just need a body double.”

He blinked.

She continued. “The classes you’re failing, those are the only ones you don’t have with one of your brothers or your other friends, right?”

Matt nodded, wondering how she could possibly know that. He bookmarked that thought for later.

“Well, your brain probably knows that they expect you to do your work, and you don’t want to let them down, so the work gets done. Not in English or History, apparently. So, I’m your body double. And I expect you to do your work.” She grinned. “It’s corny as fuck but you’d be surprised how much you get done. Ready to start?”

Matt decided to process that particular heap of information later. “Yeah, sure.”

“I’m sending you my sources. You know how to cite them?”

His brain couldn’t register her words. It all made sense, but his brain felt too fuzzy to put the pieces together. “Sources, right. Y-Yeah, I uh…yes.”

“Good boy,” she purred. Matt nearly choked, his dick now fully hard. There’s no way she just said that. She gestured to his keyboard, and Matt began to shakily type the name of the website he needed into the search bar. Maybe I just imagined it…It’s been a weird day. Matt could feel her gaze burning into his skin like the heat of a thousand suns. His heart was lodged in his throat, he had begun manually breathing, not wanting his breaths to sound too heavy or too short.

Her hands kept brushing his arm, and Matt realized if he wasn’t careful, she would notice the way his face turned a bright red when she touched him, or worse… she’d see the bulge that could barely even be hidden by his hoodie. He turned away from her, pretending to look for something in his bag. “I um…thanks.”

“Go ahead and read those, throw all the relevant information into a messy doc, and then let me know when you’re done, okay?” Matt looked up and she leaned once more against the concrete column behind her, earbuds in, typing away in her own empty doc for the same assignment. He glanced at the stickers on her laptop, eyeing the one in the dead center with the name of a band he had never heard of. I wonder what she’s listening to. Would she like my music? Would I like hers?

Pulling out his own headphones, Matt shuffled his own playlist, and tried desperately to focus on the article in front of him.

x o x o x o

Forty two minutes later (he counted), Matt finally reached the end of the mind-numbing wall of text. No closer to understanding what the fuck he was doing, he reached out to tap the table near her knee. Her cargos sported faded stitching on their edges, proof of intentional wear as opposed to fashion wear.

When the flash of motion moved into her line of sight, she looked up from her own article, brows raised expectantly and eyes locked onto his. “How’s it going?”

“Well…It’s not perfect but…it’s better than nothing right?.”

“Mhmm.” She leaned forward, staring at his screen. “One and a half pages? Atta boy.”

Matt’s face flushed, his lips parting to speak but silence was all that followed.

“Did you do what I said earlier?”

“Yes ma’am.” Where the FUCK did THAT come from?

She wrinkled her face, her lips tugging up into a smile. “Down, boy.”

Matt almost puked. A lightning bolt struck his lungs, and they withered in his ribcage. “Sorry- sorry,” he stuttered. He ripped his gaze away from hers, blinking rapidly.

She laughed softly, the ghost of a smile passing over her lips. Matt’s head shot up faster than he’d ever admit. “Little weirdo,” she muttered, turning away from him to put her laptop in her bag.

“Oh, are we-”

“Mhm. Bell’s about to ring.”

He blinked again, opening his own backpack.

“Give me your snap.”

“Huh?”

“Your snapchat. So we can talk about your assignments and schedule tutoring for sometime other than boy’s athletics.”

How did she-

“Wouldn’t want you to miss hockey,” She tilted her head to punctuate her all-knowing tone, and put her phone in Matt’s hand.

As he typed megamett_44, Matt reevaluated the entirety of his life’s choices, and hoped she’d just…ignore it. Or not see it at all, that was preferable.

Neither of those things happened.

“Mega. Mett. Forty four?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow at him.

“...Yep.”

“You, um…” She gestured, sarcasm beginning to drip from her lips. “You wanna explain?”

“No I do not,” he replied, grinning nervously, avoiding her gaze.

“Hmm…cute,” She smirked. Matt felt his heart swell and his pants tighten even more at the comment she had made, just barely crossing the line of being a praiseful remark. He wanted to ask more about what she meant; Why did she say cute? Does she think I’m cute? Was she just saying the username is cute? But before he could think of something, the bell rang, and in one fluid motion, she swung her bag over her shoulder and slipped off the table. “Later,” she hummed before she disappeared into a river of students escaping school grounds for the weekend.

Matt exhaled and slumped into his chair, hanging his head as he dropped his bag back onto the floor. The visible bulge under the fabric of his sweats and his hoodie taunted him, his mind raced, thinking of all the things he could have done instead of gawking at her and stuttering one or two words at a time in response to whatever she said to him. Matt ran his fingers through his messy hair. His cheeks remained a rosy pink. He rubbed his lips with his fingers, an anxious habit he had picked up over the years in a desperate attempt to help with his nail biting problem, though very little progress had been made there.

“I’m done for,” he said, nodding decisively. “Yep. This is the end of Matthew Sturniolo.” Matt looked down at his phone, numerous texts from his brothers flooding the screen.

Nick: where are you

Chris: where r u ?

Nick: why weren’t you at hockey practice

Chris: coach is not happy with you lmao

Chris: helloooooooo

Chris: the van is still here so we know ur here

Chris: unless 😏

Nick: enough

Chris: man come on nick is grumpy and bitching about the weather

Nick: it’s fucking FREEZING out and i’m shivering like a chihuahua. I’d appreciate getting into the vehicle that we OWN to blast the heat

Matt sighed and shoved his phone into his pocket. He looked around, making sure that nobody was nearby as he stood up. Grabbing his bag, Matt hurried out of the library and pushed his way through the halls to the nearest restroom.

Ensuring that the bathroom was completely empty, he slipped into the closest bathroom stall and locked it behind him. Matt quickly dropped his bag to the floor, lifting the hem of his hoodie up and holding it between his teeth. He pulled the band of his sweats down, groaning softly as the friction sent bolts of pleasure through him. He slipped his hand under the fabric of his boxers, his eyes fluttering closed as his hand wrapped around his shaft. He hummed ever so softly as he gave his cock a few strokes.

He opened his eyes, suddenly realizing what he was doing. No, this isn’t like you. This isn’t right. You don’t do this here. He pulled his cock up into the waistband of his boxers, dissatisfied above all else, but knowing he had to hide his unpleasant erection somehow. This was a new low for him. What kind of a creep can’t even keep it in his pants until he gets home? Matt pulled his sweatpants back up, dropping the hem of his hoodie from where it had been between his teeth. He stepped out of the bathroom stall, taking a quick once-over in the mirror to make sure he looked put together and not a flustered horny mess, before he slipped out of the bathroom, following the mass of students rushing for the exit out into the student parking lot.

x o x o x o

Matt saw Chris and Nick leaning against the edge of his car, bundled up in their heavy winter coats. Matt clicked the unlock button on his key, the vehicle chirping in response. Nick impatiently opened the door to the backseat, huffing something under his breath as he got into the car. “Where the hell were you?” Chris asked, opening the trunk to the van and tossing his hockey gear into the back. After closing the trunk, Chris walked around to the passenger side of the vehicle, slinging his bag into the back next to Nick’s foot, closing the door behind him.

“Library,” Matt muttered, clunking into the driverseat. Chris paralleled Matt’s actions, dropping himself into the passenger seat. “Library?” Chris repeated, tasting the word with furrowed eyebrows as he turned to look at Nick, expecting he might know more about Matt’s situation.

He did not. Nick scrunched his face. “Since when do you go to the library?”

Matt groaned. “Can we just go home.”

The other two didn’t ask too many questions after that. What normally would have been a debrief session of their individual experiences from that day while feasting on whatever fast-food place the three of them had voted on, was instead a deafening silence and a painfully tense atmosphere. Matt was secretly very appreciative of this, his mind was too scattered for him to hold a conversation with his brothers, never mind care about what they were discussing.

x o x o x o

When he collapsed onto his bed, Matt checked his phone, brows furrowed in surprise. He’d gotten a notification from Snapchat (a rarity), and his heart shot up into his throat when he saw who it was from. He tapped on the notification to see that she had sent him a photo of herself - her hair fell in waves around her face, and Matt could see the glint of her earrings. She wasn’t even looking at the camera, making the edge of her eyeliner effortlessly severe. Matt’s chest went aflutter, and he stared at that picture for a very long set of minutes. “Here’s my snap”, she had typed, and once he tapped out of the photo, Matt added her back.

But they hadn’t spoken past that.

He laid on his bed trying to think of something to say to keep talking to her, but everything sounded desperate and corny. He had so many things he wanted to say, so many questions he wanted to ask. He wanted to talk to her for hours, about anything and everything. He wanted to know everything about her.

As the sky darkened, Matt scrolled aimlessly on TikTok, then Instagram, then back to TikTok, avoiding Snapchat to the best of his ability. His mind refused to let go of her, and it was starting to piss him off. What is she doing? Does she stay home on school nights? Does she go out? What are her hobbies? Does she play video games? Would she play them with me? Does she like to read outside of school too? When does she go to bed? Does she like to stay up late? Does she go to bed early? Why can't I think of something normal to say to her?

Matt dragged himself out of bed, crumpling slowly to the floor. He leaned his head against the edge of his mattress and sighed - what a fucking day.

A knock at the door had him lifting his head from where it rested against the mattress. “Hi, honey.” Mom. “You eating dinner with us tonight?”

He stood up, crossed the empty floor of his room quickly, and pulled his door open. “Hey Mom.” Matt leaned into her, and Mary Lou slipped her arms around her son.

“Hi baby. Somethin’ on your mind?”

I’m failing.

I’m failing four classes.

You and dad would be so disappointed.

I feel tired and sick all the time.

I just want to go to sleep.

Graduation is in four months.

Nick and Chris are gonna leave me.

I’ll have to repeat senior year.

It’ll all be my fault.

The girl making me fail is the girl trying to help me pass.

I can’t focus on anything.

I’m so fucking tired.

“Just missed ya.” Matt sighed. He hummed when he felt his mother's loving arms embrace him just a little tighter. “I’ll be downstairs in a minute.”

x o x o x o

A dark room. The brush of fingers over silk. A candle flickering shadows against the walls. The faint scent of vanilla. Pleasure flowing through his body. The buzzing hum of a vibrator. More waves of soft tingling flowing from the center of his body.

“Good boy…”

He sighed, lips parted, eyes closed. His hips began to shift upwards, slowly at first, pushing against the vibrator, aching for more. Instead, his leaking, rock-hard cock met a soft hand. He whimpered, digging his pelvis into the pillowy skin. “Awww…d’you wanna hump Mommy’s hand?”

“Yes…” he pleaded, his head lolling to the side, chest heaving. “P-Please, I-I... Please.”

Her fist began to slip around the head of his cock. “Please what?”

“Nnnghh…please let me hump your hand. I need it s-so bad, p-please, it hurts Mommy, I just wanna…jus wanna feel your hand around my…my…”

Another hand cupped his balls, silky-soft thumb rubbing spine-tingling circles over his pleasure-filled skin. “Hmm? What was that, pretty boy? Mommy didn’t quite catch that.”

“My cock, miss, I…p-please reward me…please, I-I’ve been so good…”

She smiled, amused by how easy it was to get him riled up. “Go ahead, baby. You’ve been such a good boy. You deserve a little treat, don’t you?”

Matt didn’t need to be told twice. His hips lifted, his jaw going slack as his shaft slipped through her fist with ease, her hand already sticky with his arousal. A whimper grew at the back of his throat, his hips beginning to buck up into her grasp. Erotic sounds filled the room; heavy panting, his wet cock slipping in and out of her grasp, the bed frame creaking ever so quietly, her quiet praises that she’d whisper to him. “Atta boy, you’ve got it,” she hummed, earning a sound from Matt that he hadn’t even known he was capable of making. A mix between a sob and a whimper, a sound that made her press her thighs together, her core aching for him. “That’s it, baby, hump Mommy’s hand. Doesn’t that feel good?”

His pace quickened, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as he began to rut against her hand. His desire was primal. It was animalistic. The way he craved her, unlike anything he had ever craved for in his life. His balls, heavy with his arousal, slapping against her wrist as her hand reached the base of his cock with every thrust he made. His tip, swollen and pink, leaking with his desire. She could feel the way his shaft throbbed, practically begging for more. Her hand gently squeezed his tip, a guttural moan falling from his rosy lips.

He began to whine now, desperate pleas pouring from his lips like thick sweet honey. “I’ve been so good, I’ll behave, I promise, I’ll be s-so good for you Mommy, please let me cum, please, I’m b-begging you, please Mommy… y-you’re so sweet and g-good to me, I jus’ wanna make you happy, please let me make you happy…f-fuck!” White-hot liquid spurted from his tip, coating her hand and his abdomen as she continued to stroke his sensitive shaft.. “Mmmph…Mommy…f-fuck…thank you, th-thank you, mmph Mommy…thank you, y-you’re so good to me…”

Breathlessly, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, looking up at the beautiful girl in front of him. His gaze flickered down to her hand, his cock throbbing as he saw how much of a mess he had made. Ropes of thick warm cum coated her hand, and Matt couldn’t help but think of what it’d look like leaking out of her. He watched with a dazed and aroused glisten in his eyes as she brought her hand up to his lips. Obediently he licked his mess off of her fingers, paying no mind to the taste. He didn’t care, he’d do anything she wanted, even if it meant having the lingering taste of his seed in his mouth. Once her hand was cleaned up, he pressed kisses up to her wrist, trailing up her arm, keeping his eyes low in reverence.

She lifted his head with a finger under his jaw. “You’re welcome, baby. You did so good for me, hmm?” she murmured, kissing his forehead. Matt closed his eyes, never wanting to leave this moment. “Were you a good boy for mommy?”

Matt shot up in his bed and his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. He pulled his duvet cover off of him, and in the dark of his bedroom he could still see his mess leaking through the fabric of his boxers. His torso was slick with a sheen layer of sweat. Despite having already finished, his cock refused to soften.

“Oh fuck me,” he snarled, rubbing his tired face with his hands. This is going to be the hardest four months of my life.

𖥔‧₊˚ ⊹ Tags 𖥔‧₊˚ ⊹

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