❦lilac❦

Matt girl

[lilacedits]

Dividers by bernardsbendystraws

❦ 𝓈𝒽ℯ/𝒽ℯ𝓇 ❦ 𝒷𝒾𝓈ℯ𝓍𝓊𝒶𝓁

•Don’t write much lmao

•ℯ𝒹𝒾𝓉𝓈

•march Pisces girl

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬: ❦ $uicideboy$, timothée chalamet,tyler Billie eilish , my cat <3, Matt sturniolo, the smiths, colour purple, Ariana grande perfume, tulips, reading, lashes, art, music, winter, Wattpad, editing

𝑫𝒊𝒔𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒔: ❦ cheaters, MY EX, homophobia, racism, body shaming, bitches, maths, etc.

Sturniolo fan since 2021❦

Repost relatable asf stuff (edits,clips and more)

[sturnskiss]

𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎 𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 🎃

a full list of all the sturntober marathons that i found! let's all support and send love to these creators. if you have any others please comment or inbox me!

kinktober - @sturn-baby05

kinktober - @sturniphone (this is such a cute idea & layout)

kinktober - @mattslilies (i know this will EAT)

kinktober - @hannahsturniolo

kinktober - @chrisssiren

flufftober - @echambieee

kinktober - @delilahsturniolo

kinktober - @eyesonmattyb

kinktober - @mattstromboli

kinktober - @mivogjk

angstober - @mi-co-uk (i will be sobbing for days)

kinktober - @lvrsturniolo

flufftober - @sturnililio

flufftober - @fairychris (OMGG SO HYPE!!)

angst/flufftober - @matthewsbasement

sturntober - @sturnsflirt

sturntober - @444sturns

kinktober - @cvnntagious

kinktober - @ariestrxsh

kinktober - @miaxrg

kinktober - @cinnamonsturns

kinktober - @cayleeuhithinknott

flufftober - @xxxxxxlovesstuff

kinktober - @bernardskissmarks

fluff/angstober - @bsturnzz

kinktober - @mwahbymia

kinktober - @rarebambi

kinktober - @amilia60191

kinktober - @billiesbabyy444

kinktober - @celest4matt

that's all i can find currently, but if you or someone else is doing a sturntober marathon please comment and I'll add it! this is purely to support everyone and anyone <3

updated: 9/21/25

[lilacedits]

I love making freaky Chris edits

[chrisstvrns]

⌞birthday boys⌝⸝⸝

⋮ ⌗ ┆ warnings ˎˊ˗ threesome, chris & matts birthday, oral (chris receiving), dom!matt, dom!chris, unprotected sex, no incest or anything sexual between matt and chris!!! please let me know if i missed anything.

⋮ ⌗ ┆ word count ˎˊ˗ 815

you woke up to sunlight spilling through the half cracked blinds, painting golden stripes across the bedspread, your bare legs tangled between two warm bodies.

you let out a sleepy sigh, head tucked under chris’s chin while matt’s hand lazily dragged along your thigh, fingers dancing over the curve of your hip like he’d been tracing it in his sleep.

chris stirred at your exhale, his lips brushing the top of your head. “mornin’, baby,” he mumbled, voice thick and low, still dripping in sleep.

“happy birthday,” you whispered, smiling against his chest.

“mm,” matt groaned behind you, already pressing himself closer to your back, his voice husky. “you remembered.”

you giggled, “kinda hard to forget the day my two favorite people were born.”

matt laughed softly and reached over to squeeze your hip, “you tryna win birthday points already?”

“i don’t need to try,” you teased, shifting so you were more centered between them. “but i will.”

you felt chris’s hand slide from your waist to your chest, cupping one breast with gentle fingers. his thumb rolled your nipple lazily, and he kissed your jaw. “she’s already naked,” he murmured to matt with a sleepy grin. “think she was planning this.”

“you think right,” you hummed, reaching back to let your hand graze over matt’s thigh. “wanted to wake you both up with something special.”

“god,” matt groaned, already hard against the swell of your ass. “you know exactly how to make a guy feel 22.”

chris leaned down and captured your lips in a soft, lingering kiss, still slow, still morning. warm. “you sure?” he murmured against your mouth, his other hand tracing down your stomach, stopping just at your hip. “we can go slow, baby. just let us take care of you.”

“i want you both,” you whispered. “just like this.”

matt pulled your leg over his waist from behind, opening you up more while chris shifted between your thighs. “she’s already so wet,” matt rasped, fingertips gliding between your folds before bringing them to your lips. “open.”

you sucked his fingers into your mouth, locking eyes with chris, whose pupils were blown wide with need.

“fuck, you’re unreal,” chris breathed, lining himself up and pushing in slow, letting your heat take him inch by inch until he bottomed out. his forehead pressed to yours, a breathless moan tumbling from his lips. “you feel so fucking good.”

behind you, matt kissed your shoulder, your neck, your jaw. “can i?” he whispered. “wanna be inside you too.”

you nodded frantically, already squirming with need between them.

chris slipped out with a kiss to your cheek, and you rolled onto your hands and knees. matt guided himself into you from behind, his fingers tight on your waist as he slid inside you. you gasped at the fullness, at the way his hips met yours.

then chris was there, in front of you, taking your face in his hands and kissing you deep. “gonna take me in your mouth while matt fucks you?” he whispered against your lips. “wanna make this birthday unforgettable, baby?”

you nodded, lips already parting, and he let you wrap your lips around the head of his cock. he groaned, hand tangling in your hair as you began to bob your head slowly, eyes locked on his.

matt picked up the pace behind you, each thrust deep and delicious, dragging moans out of your throat even as your mouth was full. his hand slid down your belly, between your legs, fingers circling your clit while he fucked into you.

“you’re such a good girl,” matt praised, voice shaking. “fuck, taking us so well.”

chris shuddered as you sucked him deeper, eyes fluttering closed. “look so perfect like this. mouth full of me, stuffed with matt. you’re everything.”

your body was trembling with the pressure building, heat curling in your belly, thighs shaking. chris noticed and cupped your face, slipping out of your mouth to kiss you again. “you close?”

you nodded desperately, a cry leaving you when matt hit that spot just right.

“cum for us,” matt begged. “please, baby. cum while we’re both inside you.”

with a strangled moan, you did. your whole body pulsing around him, sparks shooting through you. matt groaned your name and followed with his own release, spilling deep inside you.

chris stroked himself while watching, moaning at the sight of you both wrecked, and came across your chest, painting your skin with his warmth.

you collapsed between them, completely spent, chests heaving, bodies tangled.

matt kissed the back of your shoulder. “best birthday ever.”

chris smiled, brushing your hair back from your face. “and it’s just the morning.”

you laughed breathlessly, snuggling between them. “i’ve got more surprises planned.”

“oh, we’re so fucking spoiled,” matt grinned, pulling the blanket over all three of you.

“yeah,” chris murmured, kissing your temple. “but only by the best.” 

────────────୨ৎ────────────

aurora's notes: hi so i posted this a few days early on accident and then deleted it, and i forgot what my original note was. anyways!! i wanted to post this in time for their actual birthday so thats why im posting it on july 31st lol. happy birthday triplets, i love u 4 everrrrrr 🤍🤍🤍 also this is my first chratt so im sorry if its ass LMAO

- aurora ᯓ✮⋆˙

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

to be added to my taglist, comment on this post!

[ridematt-deactivated20250824]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𐙚᭄

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡. christopher sturniolo + reader + matthew sturniolo ➳ threesome, degradation, oral (male), p in v, creampie, rough sex, dom!chris, dom!matt

you never felt so full.

your legs were trembling and your knees had given up. you were only standing because of matt’s large hands holding your hips up as he thrusted inside you.

your eyes filled with tears once chris hit the back of your throat, his leaking tip making your mouth full.

“doesn’t she look pretty, matt?” chris said with a grin, watching as you were receiving both of them. “she is our pretty little fucktoy” matt completed, smacking your ass harshly.

you wanted to moan, to talk to them, to cry, but you simply couldn’t. you had to stay there, taking them like a good girl.

“so close princess” matt said, his grip on your waist getting tighter as his movements became faster. the sound of skin slapping made chris roll his eyes and fuck your throat deeper. “gonna get full in both ends yeah?” he continued, eyeing at chris.

“and she’s gonna love it” chris spoke, tugging at your scalp harshly. “our good little cumdump, right?”

you knew you were about to cum. the more they degraded you, the closer you got. your pussy clenched around matt’s cock, your jaw almost breaking to receive chris fully.

matt came first. twitching, groaning, sloppily pounding into you his creamy, thick cum, filling your pussy entirely. then chris, painting your throat white as he bucked his hips further, causing you to gag.

and then you. as soon as chris pulled out, moans and cries were heard. “fuck fuck fuck!” you screamed, finally reaching your own high, mixing your own cum with matt’s.

chris laid down next to you as matt talked you through your orgasm, mixing praising an degradation. “such a good fucking slut”. he finally lets go, allowing your body to get a break for a few minutes before talking again. “shall we change positions?”.

© 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓 est. 2025

[spookysturnz]

⊹₊⟡⋆ In which…StreetRacer!Matt thinks since it’s his birthday he can lay back and relax while dandy does all the work.

ʚɞ- Smut w/o plot. Riding. Overstimulation. Use of “good girl” and “bad girl.” P in V.

“Thaaats it, baby.” Matt’s voice was low, almost lazy, laced with that cocky little rasp that made your knees weak every time. His hands gripped your hips, guiding your slow descent as you sank down on his cock, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt inside you.

You whimpered, your head dropping, nails digging into his chest. “M-Matt… mm—fuck—too much…”

You bit down on your bottom lip, hands on his chest as you rocked your hips, slow and desperate. He felt everywhere—his rings cold on your skin, his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside you with every grind.

“Can’t take it?” he whispered, voice low and teasing, even as he twitched inside you. “C’mon, Dandy. You said you’d be good f’me tonight.”

Your head dropped against his shoulder, breath hot against his neck as you whined. “I-I’m trying…”

Matt chuckled, the sound lazy, taunting, almost cruel. He dragged his hands down your back and then grabbed a handful of your ass, helping you move. “Not trying hard enough. Thought this was my present.” His voice dropped even lower. “You gonna make me do all the work on my birthday?”

You whimpered again, your thighs already trembling. You were trying—God, you were trying—but he was so deep, and your body couldn’t help but react. Clenching, pulsing around him with every shift, every grind, every mean little word that fell from his mouth.

He pulled you back by the throat gently, just enough to make your eyes lock with his. His thumb brushed your lips.

“Bet you’d ride me sweeter if daddy wasn’t in the next room, huh?” he smirked. “If you didn’t have to be so quiet…”

Your walls clenched again, betraying you, and Matt let out a low groan that turned into a hiss.

“Yeah,” he breathed, “you like that. You like being a bad girl for me, even when your daddy’s just a wall away. The cop’s little angel takin’ dick from the one guy he’s been tryna put in cuffs for months.”

You felt heat rush up your neck, shame and thrill bleeding into each other, your nails digging into his shoulders as you bounced just a little harder, just a little faster. You couldn’t help it.

“That’s it,” he rasped, gripping your waist now, “you got it baby. Make it count. Ride me like you own me—‘cause you fuckin’ do.”

Your head dropped back with a choked moan, his name spilling out between stuttered breaths.

He leaned forward then, lips grazing your ear, voice full of smoke and sugar. “Say it. Tell me whose pussy this is.”

“Y-yours,” you whispered, dizzy and wrecked, “Matt, it’s yours—”

His chain brushed your lips when he kissed you. Deep. Slow. Possessive. His tongue curled around yours and his hips finally thrust up into you, meeting your rhythm, deep and punishing.

“Happy fuckin’ birthday to me,” he muttered into your mouth.

A/N- Ummmm…did you guys like this <: Thank you so much to @viviansturns and @bamboonick for proofreading 🤭🤗

Divider Credits- @/Cursed-Carmine

[delilahsturniolo]

✩°｡⋆ WELCOME TO HOGWARTS

THE UNIVERSE 💌

˚୨୧⋆ .ᐟ 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 . . . SLYTHERIN!MATT

ꫂ᭪ sixth year. pure blood. girls swoon over him. radiohead on repeat. the kind of boy your parents warned you about. silent stares. perfect grades. soft heart but cold eyes. wants you to hate him. hates that you don’t. old books. defense against the dark arts. favorite spell is sectumsempra. favored by professor snape. hooks up with you in secret.

˚୨୧⋆ .ᐟ 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 . . . GRYFFINDOR!CHRIS

ꫂ᭪ sixth year. pure blood. top chaser on the gryffindor quidditch team. care of magical creatures class. favorite spell is expelliarmus. very empathetic. he’d burn down all of hogwarts just for you. has had a huge crush on you for a while. always breaking school rules. insanely charming.

˚୨୧⋆ .ᐟ 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 . . . HUFFLEPUFF!NICK

ꫂ᭪ sixth year. pure blood. your best friend. always your go to person to gossip with. poetry. herbology. the smiths. favorite spell is protego. observes in silence. worries for you a lot. has a pet cat in his dorm. always has a bright smile. knows what’s going on between you matt and chris. yellow.

˚୨୧⋆ .ᐟ 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 . . . RAVENCLAW!READER

ꫂ᭪ fifth year. half blood. hooks up with matt on the low. spills all the tea to nick. liked chris in the past but thought they should remain friends. smartest of all the ravenclaws. books books books. did i mention books? lana del rey. ancient runes class. favorite spell is confundus. started off the year quiet. now the whole school knows her name. finds comfort in studying. libraries. vinyl records. flawless grades.

♥︎ 𝙂𝙀𝙏 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙔 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝘼 𝙎𝘾𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙇 𝙔𝙀𝘼𝙍 𝙁𝙐𝙇𝙇 𝙊𝙁 𝘼𝘿𝙑𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙐𝙍𝙀 . . .

you’re a fifth-year ravenclaw at hogwarts, sharp-witted, observant, and more guarded than you let on. you’ve always kept your heart at a distance, busy burying yourself in books, potions essays, and the safety of knowing exactly who you are. until now.

chris sturniolo, a sixth-year gryffindor, was once your closest friend. he liked you, a lot. everyone knew it. but he never said anything, and you never asked. maybe it was bad timing. maybe you weren’t ready. maybe you just didn’t see it.

matt sturniolo, his older-by-two-minutes-brother, is a sixth-year slytherin with a reputation for being cold, clever, and untouchable. you fight constantly. snide remarks in the library. lingering stares across the great hall. heated arguments that turn into something else entirely. something neither of you talk about.

you’re hooking up with him in secret. late nights in empty classrooms, broom closets between classes, fingers pressed to lips so no one hears. it’s supposed to mean nothing. it’s not supposed to feel like this. chris is still kind. still steady. still looking at you like he never stopped. and part of you wonders what it would’ve been like, if you’d let him in before matt ever touched you.

nick sturniolo, the hufflepuff, is your best friend. the only one who sees everything. the only one who knows what you’re doing. and the only one who hasn’t said a word. this isn’t a story about choosing between them. it’s about what happens when you don’t know how to. when fire pulls you one way and familiarity pulls you another. when your heart won’t make sense and your body keeps secrets your mouth won’t speak. it’s messy. it’s complicated. and it’s not supposed to be happening. but it is.

𓂃 ravenclaw!reader is a self insert, but you can imagine yourself or anyone else you would like to. this will not have a specific “ending” on who ravenclaw!reader ends up with. i’m leaving that up to the readers imagination! feel free to request prompts with a specific brother (or multiple) and i’ll write it! (ONLY platonic prompts for nick since all he is in this au is readers best friend!!!!!) nick does not have a love interest as yet, i will add one in the future for him! also um…i am a matt girl so this may be a littleee biased i may write more for matt but i’ll try my best to feed chris & nick girls too!!!!! also, this is NOT my original au. if you know a specific creator who has created a concept like this before let me know so i can give credit where it is due. also my girl @mattsangelbaby’s absolutely amazing slytherin!matt au motivated me to finish and post this go check her au outtt <33333

© delilahsturniolo

[bamboonick]

VIRGIN? ࣭ ⭑ ( ｡ featuring . . . chris sturniolo

this will contain . . . rough dom!nerd!chris, spanking, rough sex, degradation, orgasm denial, edging, fingering, overstimulation, hair pulling, fingers in mouth, brief choking, creampie, mild humiliation, etc.

you met chris during your freshman year of college, back when gen eds still had lecture halls packed with hungover students and you were too busy flirting with the guy behind you to pay attention to the syllabus. chris sat in the front row, always on time, always typing faster than the professor could speak. you didn't talk to him at first. he was quiet, soft-spoken, a little awkward—but sharp as hell, and once you were grouped for a project in psych, you realized he wasn't shy so much as selective.

you, on the other hand, were loud, social, and unapologetically open about everything—your opinions, your hookups, your weekend party plans. you weren't ashamed of how many people you'd been with. if anything, you liked watching chris blush when you casually mentioned fucking someone in the backseat of their car or getting eaten out in the frat house laundry room. he'd adjust his glasses, press his lips together, and look anywhere but at you.

now, sophomore year, you and chris were close. close enough to hang out late in his dorm with your legs in his lap. close enough to let your jokes get borderline inappropriate. close enough that you thought you knew him. in your mind, chris was textbook virgin material—never talked about sex, never mentioned a body count, always deflected when you asked. he didn't have a girlfriend, didn't flirt, didn't date. so naturally, you assumed he hadn't gotten around to it yet. maybe he was waiting for someone special. maybe he was nervous. maybe he just didn't have the confidence. either way, the idea of chris having any real experience never even crossed your mind.

you were very, very wrong.

chris wasn't a man-whore. he wasn't the type to sleep around for sport, and he didn't brag. but he wasn't inexperienced either. seven bodies, each one intentional. a handful of casual flings, one almost-relationship, and more than enough practice to know what he was doing. he just didn't feel the need to talk about it—not to anyone. especially not you. not when he could tell how much you liked playing the dominant one in the friendship. you liked teasing him, liked pretending he didn't know anything. and chris? he liked letting you think that.

which brings you to now—sprawled out in his one-person dorm room, papers scattered across his bed, half studying and half talking shit like usual. the desk light is on, casting a soft yellow glow across the room, and the sound of some random playlist hums quietly in the background. you're dressed comfortably—stretchy shorts that ride up every time you shift and a big tee that covers just enough to make it unfair. chris, as always, looks effortless in his nerdy little uniform: black sweatpants that sag a little too low on his hips and a tight, long-sleeve compression shirt that clings to every lean muscle in his upper body. he's leaning against the wall, long legs stretched out, eyes flicking back and forth between a printout and his notes. you're not paying attention. you haven't been for at least twenty minutes.

"sooo… i slept with that guy from my art history class,"'you say suddenly, voice light and smug as you stretch out across the mattress. chris doesn't look up. just hums softly in response, the sound low in his throat. you roll onto your stomach, propping yourself up on your elbows so you can watch him while you talk. "he was cute. decent mouth, boring fingers. kinda soft. i had to fake it twice."

his pen keeps moving. steady. unaffected. you narrow your eyes. "you never tell me about your sex life. like, ever. i could probably name your gpa, your favorite protein bar, and the order of your morning routine, but i have no idea what you're like in bed."

"maybe that's not somethin' you need to know," he says without missing a beat. you scoff, smiling. "so you do have one." chris just shrugs, not even looking at you. and that makes you grin wider.

"what?" you tease. "scared to tell me you're a virgin?" that gets him. not visibly—not in any dramatic way—but his pen pauses for just a second too long. his shoulders stay relaxed, but his eyes finally lift to meet yours. "you think so?" he asks, calm. flat. you nod, teasing lilt in your voice. "one hundred percent positive you're a virgin."

he stares at you. you stare right back. and the tension, usually playful, suddenly shifts. still light, but dense enough to press against your chest. his lips twitch—not quite a smile, not quite a frown—and then he says it: "wan' see what a virgin can do?" your breath catches. for a second, you think you misheard him. but the look on his face tells you otherwise. he's serious. composed. like this has been sitting in his back pocket for weeks, waiting for you to finally test him hard enough. you lean back, settling against the headboard, raising a brow. "you're serious?"

chris doesn't respond. doesn't need to. he sets his notebook aside, pushes the last of his notes away, and shifts toward you without breaking eye contact. his hands find your hips first—strong, certain—and he pulls you gently, slowly, until you're flat on your back beneath him. his knees settle between your thighs, spreading them slightly as he leans down. your shirt rides up, shorts tugged tight around the tops of your thighs, but chris doesn't even glance down. his eyes stay locked on yours as he dips in, kisses you softly.

you kiss him back, waiting for the awkward tongue or messy pressure, but it doesn't come. it's gentle, yeah, but not unsure. his lips part yours like he knows exactly how he wants to take his time, and his hand comes up to cradle your jaw as he deepens it. it's a kiss that says he's not in a hurry. not at all.

you break the kiss first, smirking as you look up at him. "typical virgin," you mutter. he doesn't react. doesn't even blink. he just lowers his head to your neck, lips brushing softly along your skin. "you don't have to be gentle with me, you know," you add, almost challenging. he hums, breath warming the dip beneath your ear. "i know."

you scoff under your breath, cocky and unimpressed. "clearly not…" and that's when he sinks his teeth into your neck, hard enough to make you gasp—hands tightening around your hips like he's just made up his mind. his bite lingers just long enough to leave heat throbbing under your skin, and when he pulls back, his voice is lower than it's ever been.

"y'know," he says, tilting his head, "i've really had enough of the attitude. i think s'time i shut you up, yeah?" your smirk returns instantly. you roll your eyes as if he hasn't just made your heart skip. "you can try, virgin boy."

he doesn't rise to it—not with words, anyway. he just hums. quiet and calm, like he's already halfway to somewhere you can't follow. then he moves, pushing off the bed and standing at the edge with that same slow, deliberate control that's suddenly making you nervous. his hands reach out for your hips again and this time, he doesn't pull you gently—he drags you down the mattress until your thighs are hanging just slightly off the edge, knees bent, body sprawled under him like he's setting up a game he's been dying to play.

his voice comes again, firmer now: "ass up." and you listen. you shift to your stomach without a second thought, lifting your hips and arching your back into position, cheek pressed into the sheets. you feel the air hit your thighs as your oversized t-shirt rides up, and your breath catches when chris slides your shorts down to your thighs and pauses.

"no panties?" he says, voice dropping further. "been plannin' this, haven't you?" you don't answer. your face is already warm and your body is buzzing, and part of you wants to keep playing it cool—keep pretending this isn’t throwing you off balance.

bad idea.

his palm lands on your ass, fast and loud. the smack makes you jolt and hiss, more from surprise than pain, and he doesn't waste a second before rubbing over the sting with a gentle sweep of his hand. "i asked you a question, didn't i?" he says, calm but sharp.

you swallow and nod. "yeah," you breathe. "been wanting it." he lets out a soft, breathy laugh, one that sounds more like satisfaction than amusement. "mm. such a slut." his knees hit the floor behind you, and the next thing you feel is his hands—wide, steady, practiced—gripping both of your ass cheeks, spreading them apart without hesitation. the room goes quiet except for your breathing and the shift of fabric and skin, and then chris hums again, deep and almost pleased.

"hm. look at that," he murmurs, staring down at your soaked cunt. "fuckin' drippin' f'me." and then he's leaning in. no warning, no teasing. his tongue meets you with full intention, licking through your folds and groaning into your skin like he's waited months for this. his hands keep you spread open while he eats—sloppy and slow at first, then precise, mouth focused on your clit until you're grinding back against him in desperation. his tongue drags up and down before circling, sucking, licking again until your arms shake from holding yourself up.

you moan loud enough that it fills the room, and chris doesn't stop. doesn't pause. he just buries his face deeper and lets you cry out, fingers digging into your ass to keep you still. you feel the tip of one finger, then two, slip inside—easing in with a slow stretch that has your mouth falling open, eyes fluttering closed. he pumps them gently while his tongue stays locked on your clit, and it's all too much, too fast, too good. your stomach tightens and your thighs begin to tremble, that pressure building deep and low—until he pulls away. everything—his mouth, his fingers, his warmth—gone.

you whine before you can stop yourself, pushing back toward him with your hips, but he's already standing up again, towering over you with a fresh edge to his voice. "aw," he says, feigning sympathy, "you wanted to cum?" you whimper in response, breath shaky. your legs are sticky with slick and your skin's hot all over. he smacks your ass again, harder than before. "use your words like a big girl."

"y-yeah," you stammer, eyes squeezed shut. "please, chris. please…" you hear the shuffle of fabric—his sweatpants sliding down, the low groan that leaves his throat when his dick springs free. your hips twitch involuntarily, needing something to touch, to feel, and then his hand is on your back again, pressing you down into the bed. "stay just like that," he mutters. "don't fuckin' move."

his dick is hot and heavy as he runs it through your slick, dragging the head over your folds, letting it catch against your entrance again and again. he lets out a quiet groan at the wet sound it makes, then finally—finally—he presses in. not soft. not gentle. he sinks into you in one rough thrust, and your mouth drops open with a strangled moan. he's big, thick, filling you all at once without a single pause to let you adjust. your hips jerk forward from the force of it, knees nearly slipping on the sheets, and chris groans behind you—low and filthy, like he's been holding back all night.

he doesn't move. just holds there, deep inside, his palm still planted on the small of your back. "still a virgin?" he asks, voice thick. you try to speak—try to throw another jab, keep the upper hand—but all that comes out is a broken moan. you manage half the sentence: "yeah, you're s-still a virg—" and he pulls out halfway, then slams back in. you cry out, thighs shaking, arms barely keeping you upright.

"since you wan' be a lil fuckin' brat," chris mutters, hips still, dick buried to the base, "you'll do the work yourself."

you whine, low and desperate, hips squirming in his grip like you're trying to retreat—but there's nowhere to go. he's still buried inside you, thick and unyielding, his palm pressed to the small of your back keeping you locked in place. you feel every inch of him, the stretch still fresh and sharp, your walls fluttering around his dick as your body tries to adjust. it's overwhelming. too full, too deep, too sudden. you shift slightly, trying to roll your hips to find some kind of rhythm, some relief—but chris doesn't move. doesn't help. he just stands there behind you, breathing heavy, watching.

"what're you waitin' for?" he says after a moment, voice flat and laced with quiet challenge. "go on. do the work. this is what you wanted, right?" you turn your head against the mattress, eyes half-lidded and lips parted as you suck in a shaky breath. you want to mouth off—want to say something smug, something cocky, keep the upper hand—but your body betrays you. your thighs tremble when you start to move, back arching deeper as you pull forward slightly, then push back onto him in a slow, testing grind. the stretch is brutal, even with how wet you are. his dick drags against every sensitive spot inside you as you try to fuck yourself on him, try to show him you can handle it. you do it again, a little faster, trying to establish a rhythm. it's messy and uneven, but it's something. your hands claw at the sheets as you rock back again, your ass slapping softly against his pelvis.

"mm, yeah," chris hums above you, his hand sliding from your lower back to your hip, fingers digging into the flesh there as he watches you fuck yourself on his dick. "that's what i thought." you don't answer. can't. your breath comes out in gasps, each roll of your hips making it harder to think. you're doing exactly what he told you to, but it's not enough. not really. your pace starts to falter after a few minutes, your thighs burning and your arms weakening beneath you, and chris notices. he can feel it—the way your movements slow, the way you sink lower into the mattress with each tired thrust. and instead of helping you, instead of rewarding the effort, he tsks under his breath like he's disappointed.

"already gettin' tired?" he mutters. "but you were talkin' all that shit earlier, weren't you?" you start to whimper, hips stuttering as you try to keep going, but he cuts you off with another sharp smack to your ass—this one harder than the rest. your body jolts forward with the impact, a moan ripping from your throat as your walls clench around him involuntarily.

"pathetic," chris says, his tone flat but dripping in mockery. "thought you could handle a 'virgin,' right? what happened to all that attitude, huh?" you try to say something, anything, but all that comes out is a garbled sound—a half-broken sob against the sheets. your body feels hot all over, skin tingling, your cunt aching and tight around him. you need him to move. need him to do something.

he leans forward without warning, his chest brushing your back as his hand slides up your spine and tangles in your hair. he grips it tight, forcing your head back just enough so your cheek lifts from the mattress, and his other hand reaches around, fingers prying at your lips until two of them slip into your mouth. "open," he says, voice low and steady. "tongue out."

you obey instantly, tongue pressing against his fingers as he slides them deeper, thumb flattening on your tongue while the others rest inside your mouth. it's filthy. controlling. it leaves you drooling onto the sheets as your mouth stretches around him, throat vibrating with every sound you try to make. you moan around his fingers when he finally starts to move behind you—slow, grinding thrusts that feel impossibly deep with the way he angles his hips down. each push forward punches a breath out of your lungs, and every retreat makes you cry for more.

"mm," chris groans behind you, his voice closer now, his hips pressing harder. "fuckin' tight. y'feel that, baby? feel how good you grip me?" you moan again, louder this time, and he just pushes his fingers down harder on your tongue to shut you up. your eyes roll back, body twitching as he begins to thrust harder, rougher, fucking you like he's trying to prove a point. his hand on your hip keeps you steady, dragging you back to meet every slam of his dick, the sound of skin against skin echoing off the walls of his tiny dorm. your thighs shake uncontrollably now, and you're practically drooling around his fingers as your body starts to break apart beneath him.

"yeah?" he pants, voice ragged with effort. "feels so good, doesn't it, baby? this what you needed? needed me deep inside you? thrusting into you all rough like that?" all you can do is sob—no real words, just broken, desperate sounds as your body trembles under the force of it all. your pussy flutters around him, tight and wet and throbbing, and chris groans deep in his chest when he feels it.

"i know, baby," he murmurs. "i know it."

he pulls his fingers from your mouth and lets them trail down your chin, your spit glistening on your skin. his hand finds your throat next—not squeezing, just resting there, heavy and warm—as he keeps fucking into you at a punishing pace. you're so far gone you can't tell where your body ends and his begins, your vision blurred and your mind clouded with heat and sound and scent. his dick is so deep it feels like he's splitting you in half, like you'll never be able to think straight again without remembering what this felt like.

you thought you could handle him.

you thought he was soft.

you thought he was a virgin.

you were so, so wrong.

you don't know when your moans turn into full blown cries—somewhere between his dick slamming deep inside you and the sharp press of his hand around your throat, your body crosses a line. your legs aren't just shaking now—they're folding under you. your arms gave up minutes ago, chest collapsed into the mattress, spine arched in a perfect curve while he keeps holding you in place like he owns you. your mouth is open, your eyes squeezed shut, and everything feels tight and slick and heavy, like your body's been split into pieces and chris is the only one holding them together.

he's breathing hard now, jaw clenched above you as he fucks into you like he's possessed—deep, brutal thrusts that make your whole body jerk with each impact. his grip on your hip is so tight it might bruise. his palm slides from your throat to your jaw, forcing your face to the side so he can see the mess you've become. your spit's on your chin, your mascara smudged, and there's a thin sheen of sweat sticking your shirt to your back. he doesn't say anything for a moment. just watches. breathes. thrusts.

and then, low and clear in your ear: "you still think m'a fuckin' virgin?" you try to shake your head, but it's weak, barely a twitch. your voice comes out as a slurred moan—something like no, but not quite human. "mm. that's what i thought," he murmurs, voice dark with satisfaction. "you run your mouth like a brat, but look at you now—barely takin' me, gettin' ready to tap out."

you feel his hand slide down, fingers slipping between your legs until they find your clit again—sensitive, swollen, already throbbing from being teased. the second he touches you there, you cry out, body jolting in overstimulation. "you close?" he asks, like it's casual. like he doesn't already know the answer from the way your cunt clenches around him every time he grinds against your sweet spot.

you nod frantically, almost sobbing. "yes, yes, please—" but it's too easy. he pulls his fingers away. slows his thrusts to an agonizing roll of his hips, dragging his dick out slowly before snapping back in hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs. "yeah, no," he mutters. "not yet."

"chris," you sob, back arching, toes curling into the sheets. "please—"

"should've thought about that before you ran your fuckin' mouth," he snaps, and suddenly the rhythm picks back up again. he fucks into you harder this time, like punishing you for every word you've said since the moment you walked into his room. "call me 'virgin boy' again. go on. say it."

you're incoherent. your lips move, but the only thing you can manage is a gasp, a plea, your hands grabbing at the blankets like they might save you. he laughs. fucking laughs. low and mean. "yeah. not so mouthy now, are you?" his fingers return to your clit, fast and rough, rubbing tight circles that make your hips buck against his. you're begging without words now, just high, desperate noises, whimpering into the mattress as your orgasm coils tighter and tighter until you're seconds away from snapping—and again, he stops.

you whine, full-body shaking, face crumpling against the sheets. you're soaked. trembling. ruined. "chris," you cry, voice raw. "please. i-i can't—" he grabs your hair again, pulls your head up so your ear is near his mouth. "yes you can," he says, cruel but quiet. "you wanted this to happen, you begged for this to happen, so now you have no other choice but to take it."

then he pushes your face back down. hand back on your hip. cock slamming into you again like he's trying to make you forget your own name. every thrust punches another moan out of you, rough and desperate, your body grinding into the mattress, thighs soaked and shaking as he gives you no space to recover. no escape. just him. inside you. everywhere.

"gonna cum," you choke out, voice high and broken. "go ahead," he says, voice thick with arousal. "cum all over my fuckin' dick, mama." and you do. hard. your whole body seizes under him, every nerve on fire, pussy clenching so tight around him that he groans—loud and deep—like the sound gets dragged out of him from somewhere in his chest. your orgasm crashes over you in waves, dizzying and uncontrollable, your cries muffled by the sheets, thighs twitching violently as you come harder than you ever have in your life.

"fuck—there you go," chris grits through his teeth. "just like that. look so fuckin' good when you fall apart." he doesn't stop. he keeps fucking you through it, deep and relentless, using your spasming cunt to chase his own high. he's not even trying to hold back now—his grip turns bruising, his breathing ragged, dick slamming into you at a brutal pace until you're crying all over again.

"shit—gonna—" chris cuts himself off with a groan, then slams into you one last time and holds there, buried deep, his dick twitching as he spills inside you. the heat of it floods your already-sensitive body, and all you can do is moan, breathless and wrecked. chris stays still for a few seconds, head tipped back, chest rising and falling as he comes down from it.

then he slowly pulls out, careful with your oversensitive body, your hips jerking as his dick leaves you. his cum leaks down your thighs almost immediately, and you can barely move. your body is limp, shaking, forehead pressed into the sheets as you gasp for air. he bends over you, fingers brushing your lower back, light now. reverent. "you okay?" he whispers, voice softer again. real.

you nod weakly, and he presses a kiss to your spine. then another to your shoulder. and finally one to the base of your neck, right where he bit you earlier—like sealing it. like claiming it. you don’t say anything for a while. you don't need to.

he already proved everything he needed to.

𖥔﹒ 💌 ˇ ⋆ ╱ for my annoying ass wife @sturnsblogs 🙄🙄 YES I KNOW IT'S OFF TOPIC, but i have another one coming for you either later tonight or tomorrow. also not proofread, so any mistakes you see are figments of your imagination.

taglist ;ଓ @japblogs @courta13 @sturnsblogs @sturniolo-szn2 @theowensturniolo @jvngle18 @chrisgirltilidie2 @urfavvbilliemunch @devotedlyteenagemusic @vxmp42o @sturnsflirt @chriss-slut @oopsiedaisydeer @fawnsprings @mattsd0llfac3 @matthewswifeyy @chrisbambi @mivogjk @adorechris @evansturn @skibidisturniolo @babyt0matoes

[lilacedits]

an absolute masterpiece when I tell you I was giggling and kicking my feel reading this well done 🥺🙏🏼

[chrisssiren]

ⓘ content warnings: smut ⋆ +18 ⋆ age gap ⋆ explicit content ⋆ sexual tension ⋆ pet names ⋆ dilf alert ⋆ dry humping ⋆ making out ⋆ tit play ⋆ unexpectedly intimate ⋆ pnv (use condoms irl pls) ⋆ car sex ⋆ big dick!matt ⋆ semi-public sex ⋆ praise kink ⋆ clit play ⋆ size kink ⋆ breeding kink ⋆ creampie ⋆ very light angst + more.

❝𝑰𝒇 𝑰 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒛, 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒆𝒔?❞

"We’ll have a quiz tomorrow and before you ask, I won’t tell you what will be in it because I want you all to show me how much you know. Not how much you studied in one night."

Matt’s voice was calm, yet it held authority, demanding attention from everyone in the room.

"Understood?"

A collective "yes, prof" came from the auditorium.

The class was dismissed shortly after and students poured out of the lecture hall; some going to their next lecture while others had free periods.

You, on the other hand, stayed behind.

You waited until everyone was out of the room before getting up from your seat, walking over to Matt who was still gathering up his things from the desk and podium.

Matt looked up when he heard the soft clicking of your Mary Jane heels. His eyes slowly trailed up and down your body, checking you out without really meaning to.

"Prof?" You spoke, making him flinch as if he was snapping out of a trance.

He cleared his throat, realizing he was staring. "Uh, yeah?"

"If I pass this quiz..." You trailed off, smirking as you walked closer, now standing right in front of him.

"If you pass this quiz...?" He repeated, cocking an eyebrow as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the desk behind him, waiting for you to continue.

He tried to act like your proximity wasn’t making his body heat up, but his breath hitched when you leaned a little forward, looking into his eyes with your intoxicating doe ones.

It was getting increasingly difficult to act professional when you were standing in front of him, looking like a wet dream.

"If I pass this quiz, will you give me your babies?"

Matt blinked, eyes widening and expression turning to shock and surprise—and something else. Something that resembled a dark desire.

"Don’t joke about things like that." He dismissed your words, putting his laptop in his briefcase before zipping it up.

"I’m being serious." You insisted stubbornly, a small pout forming on your lips in frustration.

He paused, as if he was considering your question, before sighing deeply.

"Fine, I’ll give you a reward," he said, "but only if you get every question right."

He knew it was a difficult task but seeing you nod, saying you’ll do it without a complaint, made his pants feel a little too tight.

The next day came and you took the quiz, handing it in with a small, teasing smirk, before walking back to your seat, your pleated skirt fluttering and confidence oozing out of your whole being.

Your hips were swaying hypnotically with each step and Matt barely kept his gaze away from your ass. He shook his head subtly as if that’d make the dirty thoughts beginning to form in his head disappear.

He’s completely, and utterly, fucked.

That evening, Matt sat in his study, glasses perched on his nose and eyes glued to the sheer amount of paperwork he had to grade.

With a sigh, he took a random one from the stack, and coincidentally, it was yours.

"If I pass this quiz, will you give me your babies?"

A small smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he remembered your blunt question. His mind slowly wandered off to a scenario where you’re caressing a cute baby bump, a warm smile on your pretty face. You’d look so pretty with your tummy all round with his baby—

Stop it, Matthew.

Matt scolded himself internally, slumping back against the chair, running his hands down his face with a frustrated groan.

He started to grade everyone’s papers except yours, trying his best to get rid of the far too tempting idea of you getting swollen and—

Blah, blah, blah. Think of something- anything...

He couldn’t, and shouldn’t, be thinking things like this about his student. But you weren’t just any student, you were his good girl—

Come ooon.

Matt groaned internally. How was he supposed to focus now?

It was around midnight when he finally got all of the papers graded. Only your paper was left. With a tired sigh, he began grading it, becoming more and more surprised with each question you got right.

Matt stared at your perfect score, a strong sense of pride washing over him. Even though he knew you had ulterior motives, he couldn’t help but feel proud of you.

The next day, Matt stood by the desk beside the podium, watching as students—one by one—came to get their papers.

You sashayed over to the podium, the hem of your sundress fluttering ever so slightly with each step, your slingback heels clicking softly on the floor. You looked like an absolute vision even at school. It was almost impossible for Matt to keep his eyes from wandering over your body.

When you arrived in front of him, looking at him with those enticing doe eyes of yours, he felt himself distracted beyond belief. But professionalism took over and he quickly regained composure, clearing his throat before he began speaking.

"Good work, sweetheart." He praised you with a subtle smile.

As innocent as his praise was, it still had your stomach doing somersaults—and he, too, knew what it did to you.

You couldn’t help but take in his outfit as he talked. The denim jacket he wore in the morning was neatly slung over the back of the chair behind the desk, and the crisp white button up, along with the tie around his neck, gave him a professional look.

A smirk plastered on his face as he wrote something on a sticky note and stuck it to your paper before handing it to you, his fingers purposely grazing yours and sending shivers down your spine.

With your heart thumping wildly against your ribcage, you walked back to your seat and sat down. Your eyes immediately darted down to the paper in your hand and you began reading what he wrote on the sticky note.

"Come to the campus parking lot after your last lecture. I’ll be waiting in my car—the one with the darkest tint." It read.

You quickly folded the paper and put it inside your bag, feeling your heart flutter in anticipation. When you looked towards the podium, you locked eyes with Matt and he gave you a small wink before he looked away.

If it was any other guy you’d probably look at him in disgust, but something about Matt winking was unbearably sexy.

You arrived at the parking lot after your last lecture as instructed and almost immediately spotted Matt’s car.

It was hard not to find when the windows were literally black due to how dark the tints were. You wondered if it was even legal to have such dark tints, but you pushed those thoughts aside and approached his car.

With a slow breath, you walked over to the driver’s side and knocked softly on his window. Just as you were about to knock again, the window rolled down, causing your hand to pause mid air.

"Get in the backseat."

You blinked slowly, confused. "Why?"

Matt chuckled softly, finding your confusion amusing. "Are you gonna be a good girl and listen to me, sweetheart?" His eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, his lips twitching with a smile.

He looked almost boy-ish with the expression he had now. But the stubble gave him that "older" look. Which never failed to make you squeeze your thighs tightly and wish he was in between them.

Shaking your head slightly to get rid of the dirty thoughts swirling in your head, you quickly got inside his car, sitting obediently in the backseat, glancing in the rear-view mirror to catch a glimpse of his expression so you could somewhat guess what he was thinking.

Suddenly, a thought flashed through your mind. He couldn’t possibly want to have sex in the backseat, could he?

No way. Matt’s car was still parked at the parking lot right beside campus—it was too risky. And knowing how Matt was about keeping this situationship a secret, it would be an even more unrealistic scenario.

Just as you were getting lost in thought, you heard the driver’s side door open and close, accompanied by the sound of the backseat door opening.

"Scoot over."

Your head shot to the side where Matt stood, holding the car door, his free hand already loosening his tie. Your heart thumped wildly against your ribcage as you scooted to the other side, giving him enough room to sit.

Matt climbed into the backseat and closed the door behind himself. His tie was loosened with the first few buttons of his shirt open, and he ran his hand through his hair, making it messier, giving him a roguish look.

He turned his head towards you, eyes blazing with barely contained desire. The way he was looking at you like he wanted to devour you made you squirm.

"I promised I’d give you a reward if you got every question correct. And you got a 100..." He trailed off, leaving you to piece together what he meant.

His long fingers wrapped around your wrist, tugging gently, and you immediately knew what he wanted. You climbed onto his lap, your bare thighs on either side of his clothed ones. Matt’s eyes darkened and his hands reached out, resting on your waist.

The sundress you wore had a slit on one side and with the position you were in, it rode up, making your dainty lace panties visible. The sight made Matt’s mouth water and he had to fight the urge to take you roughly, right then and there.

"So, you’re gonna give me a reward, prof?" You ran your fingers through his hair, causing his eyelids to flutter slightly at the feeling of your manicured nails scratching lightly against his scalp.

Unable to fight it anymore, one of his hands left your waist to pull your face closer to his by the back of your nape as his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

"A good girl deserves her reward... Don’t you think so, pretty?" He whispered, his warm breath fanning over your lips, making your breath hitch at the proximity. His eyes darted down to your lips before slowly looking back up into your eyes, pupils blown wide.

Without waiting for a reply, he pulled you closer until there was no space between you. His lips met yours in a soft, unhurried kiss despite the heavy tension in the air.

Matt took his time, savoring the taste of your lips, nibbling and sucking on them, his tongue tangling with yours in a way that had your head spinning.

His hands gradually found their way back to your waist and downwards, slowly sliding them over your ass and kneading the supple flesh. The motion had you subconsciously grinding back and forth, basically dry humping him.

The sudden friction caused Matt to groan into your mouth, his hips twitching in response. You picked up on his pleasure and moved your hips purposely this time, adding more pressure against his growing hard-on.

Matt’s grip on your ass tightened in a futile attempt to ground himself as the pleasure made his hips jerk involuntarily.

But he was quick to take back the control and his hands slid back up your body, making you arch into his touch like a cat. Slowly, he pulled down the neckline of your off the shoulder sundress, revealing your bare tits. The sight had his cock throbbing urgently against his pants.

"Fuck, sweetheart..." Matt murmured in appreciation. "You’re not wearing a bra." It wasn’t a question but a statement.

Before you could explain why you weren’t wearing a bra today, his face was already buried in between your tits, inhaling your sweet scent mixed with your vanilla perfume. God, you smelled fucking edible.

His hands squeezed and kneaded your tits, his lips closing around one sensitive peak and suckling gently before giving the same treatment to the other one.

Matt gave all his undivided attention to your tits, his mouth on one nipple while his free hand played with the other one. The feeling of his unrelenting attention on your tits made your panties form a wet patch in the middle. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging softly at the strands, making him groan against your soft mounds.

Seeing you become increasingly vocal, Matt began to trail kisses up from your tits to your face. It wasn’t long before his lips found yours again and he kissed you deeply this time—almost hungrily.

Despite the desire threatening to consume him whole, Matt found himself moving slower and more languidly, making the moment feel almost... intimate.

He pushed the thought away and focused on you and your body. The way you responded to his touch made his ego swell.

"Matt... I need you..." you whispered against his lips, panting softly, your voice all soft and laced with need. "I need you inside... Please?"

The sight and sound of your desperation made him let out a low sound, a soft growl. And well, who is he to say no to such a needy plea?

Matt hiked your dress up around your waist, revealing the sheer lace panties you put on without putting much thought into it, but judging by the look on Matt’s face—it affected him a lot.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, trying to soothe his dry throat. And before he could even reach down to free himself, your fingers were already unbuckling his belt, immediately unzipping his fly afterwards.

Matt couldn’t help but chuckle huskily at your eagerness, his eyes glinting with amusement, but he let you do your thing without interrupting you—even leaning back against the seat to give you more access.

He lifted his hips up to help you pull his jeans and boxers down, enough for his cock to spring free. He was painfully hard and already leaking. Precum pooled at the small slit on his tip before slowly sliding down his thick, veiny shaft and making it twitch at the sensation.

You didn’t even bother taking off your panties and simply pulled them aside before teasing his sensitive tip along your slippery folds, a teasing smirk creeping up your lips at the feeling of his dick jumping in pleasure.

Matt looked at you with hooded eyelids, lips parting, as he held your hips with both hands, not forcing you to take him, just holding onto something to ground himself. The feeling of your wetness coating the throbbing head of his cock made his breath hitch and jaw clench.

Although you’d love to tease him more, your patience was wearing thin and your need was winning over. And so, you held the base of his hefty length and teased it along your slit one last time before positioning it at your entrance.

Slowly, you sank down, letting go off his shaft and instead putting your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as you took more of him inside your greedy cunt.

"Just like that..." Matt breathed out, his head falling back against the headrest with a soft thud, his eyes rolling back briefly before settling on your face, taking in the way your brows scrunched together in pleasure and lips parted to let out those soft moans he loved.

You moved languidly at first, savoring the slight burn from how much he was stretching you. But soon enough, you were bouncing on his lap, chasing after the pleasure, using him for your own pleasure.

The air grew thick, humid and so fucking hot. You tried to suppress your moans in fear of getting caught. Well, it’s not like anything would happen if you did get caught—it’s just embarrassing. Thankfully, the tints were dark enough for people to not see the inside of the car.

Matt’s hands tightened on your hips, slowly beginning to guide you.

"God..." he trailed off, a guttural moan slipping past his lips. "You’re doing soo good, sweetheart. You feel s’good."

You loved it when he called you sweetheart. It was an endearment he used all the time and yet it never failed to make you feel that warm, fluttering feeling in your chest.

Your hips rocked back and forth, taking him slow and deep.

His eyes fluttered closed, lips parting, fingers digging into your hips and no doubt leaving marks, as the feeling of your wet warmth engulfing every inch of his hefty length overwhelmed his senses.

"Fuuckk..." Matt hissed, feeling pressure beginning to form in his stomach. With great difficulty, he murmured gruffly, voice strained with pleasure and self-restraint, "Keep riding me like that and I won’t last."

He usually lasted long and never had to hold back his orgasm, but something about today made his release approach terrifyingly quickly.

Maybe it was because of the thrill of having sex in his car—or maybe it was because you were riding him so sensually and intimately. Either way, a warm feeling—that had nothing to do with the pleasure coursing through him—was beginning to spread through his chest.

One of Matt’s hands left your hip and reached down between your bodies, the pads of his fingers immediately finding your sensitive bundle of nerves and deftly playing with it, making your inner walls contract around his shaft.

His other hand left your hip as well and he wrapped that arm around your waist instead, pulling you flush against him and halting your movements. His hips began to move upwards, fucking you gently at first before picking up pace.

He wanted you to come before he did, so he made sure to hit every sweet spot of yours inside that greedy little cunt. His fingers blurred over your clit, making you squirm and let out high-pitched moans.

Your thighs trembled, hips jerking, as your hands left his shoulders and instead tangled in his soft brown locks—which had become slightly wavy due to his sweat and the increasing humidity inside the car.

"Oh- ffuuck! Too—ahn—much!" You moaned, body tensing and breath hitching as you felt yourself falling over the edge.

"Too much?" He rasped, half amused and half aroused. "Sounds like just enough to me."

Although he whispered dirty in your ear, he, too, was falling apart under you. Your pussy squeezing his swollen shaft like a vice didn’t help either. Hell, it was a miracle he has lasted this long. His hips halted to a stop as he tried to hold back his orgasm.

"Fuuck- Baby, get off... I’m gonna cum." Matt whispered urgently, unintentionally using a pet name he never used on you, but neither of you seemed to notice it, too caught up in the moment.

"In me." You whispered. "Please?"

Matt’s brows pinched together in agony, unable to hold it in anymore. "What?"

"Cum in me... You promised you’d give me your babies if I passed the quiz... Matt, please?" The slight whine in your tone, along with the way you were refusing to climb off his lap, was messing with his head and making his thoughts irrational.

"I want your baby, prof... I want you to fill me up with your cum." You whimpered near his ear, causing the hair on his neck to stand upright.

That was it. His self-control snapped and something primal took over instead.

"Fuck! You fucking asked for it." Matt growled, both of his arms wrapping around your waist like an iron band as he began to pound up into you, making you scramble to hold onto something.

The car noticeably rocked and your moans were so loud you were sure people nearby heard it, but neither of you cared. Well, it was hard to think of anything else when he was balls deep in you, fucking you like he wanted to rip you apart.

"Ooh—mmfh—fuck!" Matt groaned loudly, his hips slowing down slightly. Then you felt it, his warm seed flooding your insides and painting your velvety walls white.

His orgasm felt endless and it seemed like he was pretty pent up judging by how much semen was being deposited inside your hungry pussy.

His hips gave a few final thrusts, stirring his hot, sticky cum deep inside you, as if he was making sure you’d end up pregnant. But of course, he’ll buy you a morning-after pill before you go back to the dorm.

He wasn’t irresponsible. He knew you said those things because your mind was briefly taken over by pleasure and primal instinct.

You were too young to start a life. Moreover with a guy twice your age—who you weren’t even in a relationship with—wasn’t quite ideal.

But all that mattered right now was you sitting on his lap, his softening dick still nestled inside your warmth, your face snuggling into his chest as you both caught your breaths.

It was intimate. Too intimate. And yet Matt held you tighter against his chest, not making any move to push you away just yet.

What were you doing to him?

Matt watched as you fixed your hair in the rear-view mirror after the fact. He leaned back lazily against the car seat and his eyes flickered with something that looked like affection. But before you could catch it, it was quickly drowned in indifference.

He still couldn’t get himself to give you what you wanted the most; His heart.

Although Matt couldn’t deny what he felt for you, he couldn’t entertain it either. You were only in your first year of university, fresh out of high school, and he couldn’t just take advantage of your feelings and be with you.

He was scared. Scared people would talk. Scared he was too old for you. Scared you would find someone more suitable when your mind matured enough. He knew you weren’t so naïve—you were far from it—but he also knew that you were still young and you probably only liked the idea of an older man.

Matt’s head filled with thoughts that soured his mood. But when you asked him what was wrong in that sweet voice of yours, he couldn’t help but think how nice it would be if he was your age.

Maybe then he’d have no worries in loving you wholeheartedly.

✰ english is not my first language! || wc: 3.7k ✰

Isa’s rambling ۶ৎ He served sm lecturer!matt, he needs to do it again like I need more pics Matthew:( Also, you’ll see more angst in the future with lecturer!matt ’cause I hate myself ☺️

⟢ lecturer!matt taglist: @blahbel668 @ribread03 @sturniologals @annedebeijer @sleazy-1 @m0r94n @sugarraez @lvrsturniolo @iluvnicksturniolo @sturniolosluttt @sophand4n4 @squishybxg @matts-247 @lifecansmd @zokhlyxo @jibitzlesscrocs @oopsiedaisydeer @v33angel @shortnsweetsturnz @sagesturns @corspebridedelrey @anonymouslyachrisgirl @heartsforvin @lvrsturniolo @poolover123 @trustinsturniolos @mattsturnsgirlie @riannas-stuff @sturnboos @whore4-chrissturniolo @chrismoans @chlosallow @juless-is-elsa @nai2two @natesfavoritehoe @ineedchrisbadly @l0s3rhaha @chrissbabymumma @h3arts4nat @moond0llie @bernardsbendystraws @sturnsxbitvh

[lvrsturniolo]

𝐈𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈'𝐦 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲- c.s

FIC 2 OF MY SUPAFREAK WRITING MARATHON

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆… fwb!chris x fwb!reader

warnings; smut. unprotected p in v. creampie. mirror sex. choking. praise. rough fucking.

————————————————————

The mirror stares back at you like it knows your secrets as you shift uncomfortably in front of it, tugging the hem of your tank top down even though it’s already stretched tight across your chest. The room still smells like Chris—cologne and sex—and your knees are still red from when you were on the floor, mouth full of him, twenty minutes ago.

He’s behind you, sprawled on your bed with one arm tossed over his stomach and his eyes locked on you like he’s trying to read your mind. He always does that. Reads you too easily. Sees things you don’t want to say out loud.

“You good?” he asks, casual, but there’s a flicker of something sharper under it.

You nod. It’s a lie. He sees it. He always fucking sees it. He could clock your attitude being different before you even could, that’s just something he’d picked up from knowing you so long.

“C’mere.”

You hesitate, but he’s already getting up, already crowding your space. His hands find your waist like it’s second nature, pulling you toward the mirror. Your breath catches as he turns you to face it, your reflection laid bare under the shitty yellow light of your room.

You hate what you see.

Your stomach isn’t flat enough. Your thighs touch too much. Your bra is cutting into your skin, your lip’s red from chewing it. Chris towers behind you, his hand sliding up your side slowly, fingers brushing skin that makes you flinch.

“Chris, don’t,” you mumble, eyes darting down.

“Don’t what?” he murmurs, voice right at your neck. “Don’t remind you how fucking good you look?”

You shake your head, and it’s the wrong answer.

His grip tightens on your waist.

“Bend over.”

You freeze.

He doesn’t say it twice.

Heart pounding, you turn back to the mirror and bend at the waist, palms braced flat on the edge of your dresser. You feel exposed, insecure, vulnerable. But your body betrays you—slick already gathering between your thighs.

Chris drops to his knees behind you, dragging your shorts and underwear down in one rough motion. You shiver when his breath ghosts over your skin, when two fingers slide between your folds and come back soaked.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, thumb pressing against your clit just to watch you twitch. “You’re dripping, and you’re gonna sit here and tell me you don’t feel hot tonight?”

You bite your lip.

Then he stands. You watch it in the mirror—the way he fists his cock, the way he lines it up and pushes inside you in one sharp, unforgiving thrust

“Chris—fuck,” you gasp, lurching forward.

His palm cracks against your ass.

“Keep your eyes up,” he growls, hand snaking up your front, wrapping loosely around your throat. He forces your chin up until your reflection is unavoidable. “Watch yourself while I fuck you, sweetheart. Show you how—fuck— how pretty you are.”

Your eyes fill with tears—overstimulation, embarrassment, need—but you can’t look away. His hips slam into yours, cock dragging rough against your walls with every deep, merciless thrust.

“See this?” he grits out, eyes locked on your reflection. “This perfect fuckin’ body? You think I’d come back to this every time if it wasn’t the most perfect thing I’ve ever touched?”

You whimper, your legs shaking, eyes fluttering closed.

“Nuh-uh,” he warns, his hand tightening slightly around your throat—not choking, just holding. “Eyes open. You’re gonna look at yourself while I ruin you.”

“Chris,” you whine, broken and raw. “Please—”

“You want me to keep going?” he asks, slowing down enough for you to feel every inch of him. “Then say it.”

Your brows knit. “Say what?”

“Say you’re pretty.”

You hesitate. Shame bubbles up in your throat. “I—I can’t—”

Chris pulls out completely and you cry out at the loss, hips jerking back involuntarily, trying to find him again.

He doesn’t let you.

“Say it,” he snaps, fisting his cock behind you but not giving you what you need. “Say it or I won’t fuck you.”

Your mouth drops open. “You’re s-so mean—”

“Yeah?” he shrugs, “M’jus so mean— but I’ll stop— I’ll fuck you so good baby, jus how y’like me, all you have t’do is say it” his tones almost mocking, but the way he’s staring at you in the mirror isn’t. There’s nothing but pure lust behind his eyes.

Silence— for just a beat, before you can’t take it anymore. “I’m…” You bite your lip.

His hand slaps hard against your ass again, causing you to let out a squeal. “Say it.”

“I’m pretty,” you choke out, voice barely a whisper.

He still doesn’t move.

“I-I’m pretty—” you whine out, louder this time.

“Damn right, you are,” he groans before he slams back into you.

You scream his name, one hand flying off the dresser to catch yourself on the wall as he pounds into you, filthy and relentless, his face in the reflection flushed.

“That’s my girl,” he grits, fingers twisting into your hair, yanking your head back so he can spit in your open mouth. “Say it again.”

You swallow. “M’pretty!”

“Again.”

“I’m—fuck—I’m pretty!”

He fucks you so hard the dresser creaks. Your legs nearly give out, moans turning into sobs—but your eyes stay locked on the mirror. On him. On you. Red-cheeked, wrecked, because you’d do anything to keep him from stopping.

Your knees are shaking.

He’s fucking you hard enough to rattle the mirror on the wall. One of his hands is tangled in your hair, the other wrapped around your throat just right enough to keep your head facing the mirror. He’s dripping sweat and panting against your shoulder like he’s close but not close enough.

“You feel that?” he grunts, voice low and ragged. “How tight this perfect fucking pussy is?”

You nod, a breathy moan slipping from your lips as he drives into you again, deeper this time. He growls in frustration when you try to drop your head, eyes fluttering shut again.

“Uh-uh,” he warns, pulling your head up by your hair so you’re forced to meet your own reflection. “Eyes open. Look how good you take it.”

You barely recognize yourself in the mirror—your cheeks are flushed and mascara stained, lips swollen, pupils blown wide with lust. Your mouth is open, whining every time his hips slam into yours, every time he mutters something filthy against your skin.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he spits, bending over you now, chest against your back, his words hitting your ear like a growl. “That what you needed, huh? Someone to make you see it?”

Your answer is a desperate moan.

“That’s what I thought.”

He speeds up, fucking you with zero mercy now—deep, brutal strokes that have you tipping forward over the dresser. You can feel the pressure coiling low in your belly, unbearable and addictive, the kind of need that scrapes at your insides until you’re about to unravel.

His fingers slide from your throat down to your clit, circling in rough, perfect rhythm with the thrusts. “You close?”

You nod frantically. “Yes—fuck, yes, don’t stop, Chris, please don’t stop—”

“Not gonna,” he grits out. “Not until you cum lookin’ at yourself. How— fuuuck— how perfect you are. Come on, baby. T-tell me how perfect you are.”

You gasp, tears threatening to fall now, but you obey. “M’perfect! I-I’m pretty— a-and—” you interrupt yourself with an almost pornographic moan, “a-and im perfect!”

“Louder.”

“I’m pretty—Chris, I’m—fuck, fuck, I’m gonna—”

He slaps your ass again. “Cum for me. Right now. Let yourself see how pretty you look when you fall apart.”

Your vision goes white.

You cum with a broken scream, whole body convulsing as the orgasm tears through you, shaking and messy.

Chris groans behind you, his rhythm stuttering, hips jerking erratically before he buries himself deep and cums with a growl of your name.

“Fuuuck—you feel so good, baby,” he pants, staying inside you as his hand comes up to cup your chest, grounding you as you both come down from it.

You’re both a mess in the mirror—panting, flushed, sweat-drenched. He presses a kiss to the back of your neck, surprisingly soft now, lips lingering against your skin.

“You’re so fucking beautiful— and trust me, I don’t mind having to show you that again and again until you believe it.”

————————————————————

A/N: new fave tbh

tags; @tezzzzzzzz @gwennybenny @nessaisabelartemas333 @chriss-slutt @auttysturnz @ivysturnss @musicizlife @dezsturnz2 @courta13

comment under this post to be added to this marathons taglist

[choverie]

p u s s y t r a i n i n g c . s

i n w h i c h . . . chris comes home frustrated, and the only thing on his mind is fucking the anger away.

w a r n i n g s . . . smut, p in v, fem receiving oral, male receiving oral, pressuring, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, gagging, crying, creampie, aftercare, pussy spanking, rough language and handling, derogatory language (slut, whore, etc.)

it was unusual for chris to be annoyed with you, let alone be annoyed by your sounds. it was long day. it was clear in the sharp set of his jaw, the stubble decorating his cheekbones, and mostly the way his fingers twitched. oh, not to mention he nearly slammed the apartment door off its hinges. he was itching to take his anger out on something, and you sitting there all pretty drew in his attention.

it made your stomach turn—not with fear, but with a kind of electricity. because even though chris was quiet when he was angry, there was a weight to it. a pressure. like the air shifted. like your body instinctively braced, not because you thought he’d hurt you, but because you knew exactly what he needed.

he didn’t say hi when he walked in. didn’t kiss you like he usually did. just kicked his shoes off with a grunt and tossed his keys onto the counter so hard they skidded. his chest was rising fast. he paced once, twice, before his eyes cut to you on the couch like you were the one thing in the room still breathing too calmly.

you blinked up at him, lips parted, legs tucked underneath you, the blanket slipping off your shoulder.

“gonna look at m’like that?” his voice was low. rough. dangerous in a way that made heat pool in your stomach.

you swallowed. “like what?”

his jaw ticked. “like you want me to fuck y’dumb.”

your breath caught.

then—like a switch—he was walking toward you, slow but certain. a shadow of something wild in his eyes.

you didn’t move. couldn’t. didn’t want to.

“long fuckin’ day,” he muttered, stopping just in front of you. his hand slid into your hair, gentle for half a second before gripping tighter. “and you’re sittin’ here making those little sounds like you don’t know what that does to me.”

your thighs clenched. “i didn’t mean—”

“yeah, you did,” he snapped. but not angry with you. angry at everything else. and needing you to fix it.

he pushed the blanket off you fully, let his eyes drag over your bare legs, the tank top you wore without a bra, the softness of your skin. he exhaled like it hurt to hold back.

“you just gonna sit there,” he whispered, “or you gonna help me feel better?”

you bit your lip, heart pounding. “what do you want me to do?”

his answer was immediate. raw.

“get on y’knees.”

and you did—slowly, letting him see the way you obeyed, the way you ached to be good for him. he watched you, his hands fisting at his sides, chest heaving. his hoodie fell to the floor. the zipper hit the tile. his belt followed.

he stepped closer. tilted your chin up with two fingers. “open your mouth,” he breathed.

he paused his movements, brushing his thumb against your lips, which instinctively wrapped around it. “fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “you don’t even know what you do to me.”

you stayed still, let him press his thumb deeper until it brushed the back of your throat, until tears pricked in your lashes and your thighs rubbed together because the helplessness—the need—was already simmering through you.

then, finally, he undid his jeans.

you heard the clink of the buckle, the sharp hiss of fabric dragged down fast. his cock was already hard, flushed at the tip, and when he wrapped one hand around the base and stroked, just once, you could see the tension ripple down his forearm like he was barely holding it together.

“gonna let me use your mouth, baby?” he rasped, voice darker now. “i don’t even wanna think about today.”

you nodded, breath shaky, lips parting again.

he didn’t ask again. didn’t hesitate.

the first thrust was shallow—just the head, just enough to feel your lips wrap tight around him, to hear the wet click of spit when he pulled back. but the second? deeper. his hand cradled the back of your head and he fed it to you inch by inch, slow and deliberate. punishing in its control.

“that’s it,” he grunted, watching your eyes. “take it. open up for me.”

you hollowed your cheeks, let him slide deeper, let your tongue flatten underneath. he groaned, low and guttural, head tipping back for a split second before he looked down again, eyes locked on yours.

your hands gripped his thighs for balance, fingers digging into the denim around his knees. spit was already beginning to drip down your chin, and he fucking loved it—his hips rolled forward, just once, deeper than before, until you gagged around him.

“fuck, baby—just like that. let me use you.”

he didn’t stop.

he fucked your mouth like he needed it. like it was therapy. rough, rhythmic thrusts that made your eyes tear up and your core ache with every single pass of his cock over your tongue. you could hear yourself—wet, obscene sounds filling the quiet apartment along with his ragged breath and the muttered curses he kept spitting through clenched teeth.

“such a pretty little mouth. made to suck cock, huh?” he groaned.

you whimpered around him—both from the intensity and the way your thighs were soaked now, squirming for relief. and he noticed.

he pulled back suddenly, letting his cock slide free with a thick, wet sound. a string of spit stayed connected between you, and he wiped it away with his thumb, smearing it across your bottom lip like it was something holy.

you were gasping, flushed, mouth swollen. and still so fucking needy.

“get on the couch,” he said. “spread your legs. i’m not done with you.”

you scrambled back onto the couch, heart racing, legs shaking a little as you reclined against the cushions. chris’s eyes never left you—dark and glassy, like he was barely hanging on.

you pulled your tank top off first. no bra. his gaze dragged over your chest, the way your nipples were already hard from how wrecked he’d gotten you with just his voice and the weight of him in your mouth. he looked possessed.

“shorts too,” he muttered. “now.”

you shimmied them down, no underwear beneath. he groaned when he saw the slick mess between your thighs—your folds glistening, the soft little quiver in your thighs as they spread wider, like your body was begging for him.

“jesus christ,” he whispered, dragging a hand down his face before climbing between your legs on the couch. “you dripping for me already, baby? all that from sucking my cock?”

you nodded, breathless. “please—chris, i need—”

but you didn’t get to finish. because his mouth was on you.

no teasing. no warning. he dove in like he was starved, tongue dragging a thick stripe up your slit before his lips closed around your clit and sucked hard enough to make your whole body jolt. your back arched off the couch, a desperate cry ripping from your throat as your fingers shot into his hair, holding on.

he groaned into you—deep and filthy—as he licked, sucked, devoured you like he was mad about it. like tasting you was the only thing anchoring him after a shit day. and when he slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right, your thighs snapped around his head like instinct.

“fuck—chris, please—”

“shut up.” he didn’t stop. didn’t even slow. his fingers fucked into you fast and deep while his tongue circled your clit in tight, hungry patterns. you could hear the slick sounds between your legs, feel the obscene heat building in your gut, your whole body trembling under the force of it.

you were gonna come. and he knew it.

he pulled back just enough to speak—his mouth shiny, chin wet, voice low and raw.

“you gonna come for me, baby? on my fuckin’ face?”

“yes,” you gasped. “yes, chris—please, i’m gonna—”

“then fuckin’ come.”

and you did. hard.

your legs locked around his head, your body convulsing with it, loud and desperate and messy as everything cracked open inside you. he didn’t stop until you were twitching, whimpering, pulling at his hair to make him stop because it was too much.

but even then—he didn’t give you a break.

he climbed up your body, still hard, still leaking. lined himself up and looked at you like he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“you want me to fuck you now?” he rasped.

you nodded, dazed, soaked, spent but aching for more. “please.”

and then he was inside you.

no condom. no pause. just a deep, brutal thrust that had your eyes rolling back as he buried himself to the hilt. you felt everything—the way he stretched you open, the way he filled you so completely you could hardly breathe.

he started to move—deep and punishing, slow at first just to watch the way your face crumpled, then faster, rougher, fucking you like he owned you.

“tight as ever,” he growled into your ear. “so fucking wet. you needed this, whore? needed me to fuck it outta you?”

“uh- uh huh.” you whimpered, a little too loud for comfort.

“too loud,” he cooed, voice laced with mock sympathy as his hips drove into you again, deeper this time. “be a little quieter.”

and sure, you tried.

and sure, you failed. miserably.

because how could you be quiet when he was fucking you like this? when your back was arched, legs hooked over his shoulders, his cock slamming into you so perfectly, so brutally, that your vision blurred? every stroke knocked another breath out of your lungs, dragged another sound from your throat—whimpers, gasps, cries that bordered on sobs.

“mm-mm,” he tutted, not slowing at all. his hand slid up your throat, not choking but holding, thumb pressing just beneath your jaw as your head lolled back. “you don’t listen. always so fuckin’ loud when i tell you to be good.”

your mouth hung open, but no words came—just a broken little moan as he shifted his angle and hit something dangerous inside you. your nails clawed at the cushions, your hips twitching against his grip.

“what’s that?” he whispered, leaning closer so his lips brushed your ear. “gonna come again?”

you nodded frantically, body trembling, throat too tight to speak.

“huh. ‘course you are.” he gave a sharp thrust that made you cry out again. “can’t even help yourself, can you? so fuckin’ needy. you like this? getting ruined on my cock while you make all those pretty little sounds?”

you sobbed out a yes, not even caring how pathetic you sounded. you were gone—fucked dumb, so deep in it your body barely felt like your own.

his grip tightened around your throat.

“come then,” he growled. “and keep your eyes on me while you do it.”

and somehow, somehow, you managed it—staring up at him with tears on your lashes and his name breaking on your lips as your whole body shattered beneath him. your muscles clamped around his cock, spasming hard, your moans spilling out no matter how hard you tried to bite them back.

and he loved it.

because a second later, he was losing it too—hips stuttering, a filthy groan dragged from his chest as he spilled into you, deep and hot, holding you open with both hands as he came with a force that left him trembling.

he stayed there for a moment, still inside you, breath hot against your cheek.

“you really don’t know how to shut up,” he murmured, smirking against your jaw. “guess i’ll just have to keep fuckin’ you ‘til you learn.”

you took in deep breaths, trying to blink the stars from your vision, your body still twitching from the aftershocks. every nerve felt like it was on fire. every breath tasted like chris.

but just when you thought you’d come down from your high—

smack.

a hard slap landed square against your already soaked, overstimulated pussy. the sound echoed off the walls, sharp and wet, and your whole body jolted with a strangled cry.

“fuck!—chris—” you gasped, hips twitching away instinctively, only for his arm to hook around your thigh and yank you right back where he wanted you.

“mm-mm, shhh,” he hummed, low and dangerous as he knelt between your legs, his voice thick with post-orgasm haze but laced with something hungrier now. “gotta train this pussy to be quiet.”

he ran two fingers through your folds—slow, almost gentle—and you whimpered at the contact. you were so sensitive you couldn’t think straight. he watched your hips jerk, your thighs tremble, and his grin deepened.

“look at this messy little cunt,” he muttered, dragging your arousal—his cum—down to your clit, circling it until your back arched off the couch again. “still so fuckin’ wet. still leaking for me.”

“chris—too much, i can’t—”

“you can,” he said calmly. “and you will.”

and then his mouth was back on you.

no mercy. no patience. just relentless, obscene suction on your clit while two fingers curled deep inside you again, stretching your swollen walls and dragging moans from your lips that you couldn’t even begin to hold back.

you thrashed, breath catching, tears slipping down your cheeks from how intense it was—your thighs trying to close, your hands scrambling for something to grip, something to ground you.

but he held you open. forced you to take it.

“you said you’d be good,” he growled against your skin. “so fucking be good.”

your body betrayed you. despite the overstimulation, despite the ache—your orgasm was already building again, terrifying in its speed, the pressure crushing.

“no—chris, i’m gonna—i can’t—please—”

“shut up. yes. yes you can,” he snapped, rubbing hard circles over your clit while his fingers fucked you fast and deep and relentlessly. “you’re gonna come for me again. right now.”

and you did.

you came harder than before—louder, wetter, your entire body locking up as a gush of release flooded his hand and the couch cushions below. you sobbed through it, shaking uncontrollably, legs twitching as he kept going just a second longer, milking it out of you, letting you writhe and cry and fall completely apart.

only then—only then—did he slow, pulling his fingers out, slick and glistening, before sucking them clean with a low, satisfied hum.

he leaned over you, gaze molten, his voice barely above a whisper.

“that,” he breathed, “was for making all those sounds.”

your whole body was trembling, soaked and flushed, your chest rising in frantic little pants as you tried to ground yourself—but chris wasn’t done.

not even close.

you barely had time to blink before he grabbed you by the hips and flipped you over—face pressed into the cushions, ass up, legs spread wide.

“look at this mess,” he muttered, dragging his fingers down your slick folds again, letting your wetness drip down your thighs. “you’re fucking dripping. ruined my couch already.”

you whined into the cushion, heat blooming in your cheeks at how wrecked you were, at the way your body was betraying you—still aching, still needy.

he gave your pussy another hard slap.

smack.

“quiet. stay just like that,” he growled. “don’t fuckin’ move.”

you nodded, barely managing a broken little yes before the blunt head of his cock was back at your entrance. he didn’t ease in this time—he slammed into you, hard and deep, making you cry out into the pillow, your body jolting forward from the sheer force of it.

“fuck, yes,” he groaned, gripping your hips so tight you knew there’d be bruises tomorrow. “this pussy’s never felt so good. all wet and twitchy for me. greedy fuckin’ thing.”

you couldn’t speak. you could only moan, every sharp thrust driving you higher again, overstimulation and desire colliding until you felt like you might explode.

he leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back, one hand coming up to fist in your hair and yank your head back, forcing you to arch.

“you like getting fucked like this?” he rasped against your ear. “like a little toy? used until you can’t think?”

you whimpered—yes, a thousand times yes—but all that came out was a gasping, wrecked little moan.

“that’s what i thought,” he muttered, pounding into you harder. faster. the couch creaked beneath you, the wet sounds between your bodies obscene. “you’re fucking perfect. made for this. made for me.”

he reached around, fingers finding your clit again, and you screamed—your whole body jerking, pleasure sparking up your spine like lightning.

“no, no—chris, i can’t—”

“shhh. it’s okay. you can,” he growled. “one more. give me one more.”

you were sobbing into the cushions, eyes rolling back as your body spiraled out of control. every nerve was on fire, every part of you begging for relief. he rubbed tight, relentless circles over your clit while his cock pistoned into you, deeper and harder and faster.

“come on, baby,” he grunted. “be a good fuckin’ girl. come for me.”

and you did.

your orgasm hit like a fucking bomb—your body clenching around him so hard he shouted, thick ropes of cum spilling into you as he fucked you through it, your legs trembling, your voice hoarse from screaming his name.

he collapsed over you, still buried deep, breath ragged against your neck.

your bodies were a mess of sweat, slick, and sex—his cum leaking down your thighs, your skin sticky with heat and every inch of you raw from how good it felt.

you stayed like that, both of you catching your breath.

for a moment, neither of you moved.

not because you didn’t want to—but because you couldn’t.

your body was limp, twitching with the last echoes of your orgasm, and chris’s weight on top of you was grounding in a way that made your heart ache. your breath came in short, shaky bursts, your cheek pressed into the cushion, legs splayed open, thighs sticky with slick and cum and sweat.

then, slowly, he softened inside you and let out a quiet, exhausted breath.

you felt him press a gentle kiss to your shoulder blade. another to your spine. then he whispered, “you okay?”

your throat was dry, but you nodded. “mmhmm.”

he was already moving—slipping out of you carefully, fingers brushing down your sides like he didn’t want to let go just yet. he helped you shift, cradling you gently into your back as your body trembled, and when he looked at you, the cocky edge was gone.

now, it was just him.

your chris.

the one who made sure you were breathing. who checked your pulse. who brushed the hair from your damp forehead with the back of his hand and kissed your temple like it was the only thing keeping him calm.

“too much?” he asked softly, voice thick with something real now—guilt, maybe. or just love.

you shook your head, curling into him.

he exhaled like he needed to hear that. then he stood, only for a second, disappearing into the bathroom. you heard the faucet run, the sound of a towel being soaked, rung out. he came back and knelt beside the couch, warm washcloth in hand.

“spread for me,” he said, but this time, there was no demand. no teasing.

you did, cheeks flushed, and he cleaned you gently—every swipe careful, reverent. he wiped away the mess between your thighs, his cum dripping down your skin, and kissed your knee once he was done.

“you’re so good,” he murmured. “such a sweet girl.”

you smiled, hazy and warm, and reached for him. he wrapped you up in his arms, pulling the blanket over both of you, burying his face in your neck like he wanted to disappear into your skin.

“sorry i came in all pissed n’ shit,” he said after a minute. “you didn’t deserve that.”

you carded your fingers through his messy hair. “you didn’t take it out on me. you let me take it from you.”

he pulled back just enough to look at you.

and then he kissed you—soft, slow, open-mouthed. nothing hungry now. just grateful.

“you always do,” he whispered.

“i always will,” you promised. he held you tighter.

he couldn’t even remember why he was mad earlier.

a / n . . . if this flops theres no point to live on

[writtensturn]

[mattsturniolover-deactivated202]

I can't get over this fucking photo. THE SUB EYES ARE GOING CRAZYYY.

[emos4matt]

tw/// sh

go report @/sturnsexposed, they are making disgusting posts about someone on sturniolo tumblr. it’s really sickening what they are doing and posting.

can we go atleast a fucking day without there being some sort of drama on this app. all you bitches starting the drama need to grow the fuck up and go outside and touch some grass. it isn’t that hard to not say slurs, make threats, make accounts targeting others. do better.

[dilfloverrrrrrrrrrrr]

I need to reconnect with nature after seeing this picture cause holy fuck (me) (please)

[sturnsblogs-deactivated20250615]

FRIENDS DONT DO THAT

Fratboy!Chris X Toxic!fwb!reader

—

Being friends with Chris is… weird.

Weird because he still knows the passcode to your apartment, and uses it without hesitation.

Weird because he still wears your hair tie on his wrist sometimes and pretends like he doesn’t notice.

Weird because when you’re walking next to him, he still moves to the outside of the sidewalk like it’s instinct.

Weird because sometimes you catch him staring. Like he forgot for a second that you’re just friends now.

He doesn’t say much when it happens, just looks away and clears his throat or starts talking about something random—like the weather or how his lighter keeps acting up.

But you see it.

It’s in the way he still brings you coffee the way you like it. In the way he still opens the car door for you without even thinking.

And it’s in the way he slips sometimes.

Like earlier this week—he called you “baby.”

Not in a teasing way. Not in a joking way.

It was soft. Automatic.

You froze.

He didn’t even realize it until after.

“Shit. I mean—Y/N. My bad.”

You didn’t say anything. Just gave a tight smile and looked out the window.

Then there was that time you wore his hoodie again—not on purpose, you just threw it on because it smelled like him and you were cold—and he didn’t say a word the entire night. Just stared at you like he was trying to remember how to breathe.

Or when you went to a party, and some guy was clearly flirting with you, hand dangerously close to your waist.

Chris didn’t say anything, didn’t make a scene.

But later that night, he texted you:

“Didn’t know we were bringing randoms into our spot.”

And then followed it up with:

“Whatever. Have fun.”

Or like that night two weeks ago when he texted you:

“Come over? Miss you.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest.

You stared at the screen too long, thumb hovering, not sure what to do with it—

And then, two minutes later, he followed up with:

“Nvm. Wrong person. mb.”

Wrong person?

Chris didn’t even talk to other girls. Not like that.

But you didn’t ask. You just left him on read and curled tighter into your blanket, pretending it didn’t ruin your night.

Or that time you actually went on a date—a real one. With someone sweet. Normal. He picked you up on time, complimented your dress, made you laugh. You even posted a picture of your dessert on your story.

An hour later, Chris was blowing up your phone:

Chris: “Dude’s a player. Just letting you know.”

Chris: “Saw him at a party last weekend. He was all over some girl.”

Chris: “Do whatever u want tho. Not my business.”

You didn’t even respond. Because you knew what it was—jealousy disguised as “looking out.”

And he always does that.

Like when he said he couldn’t hang out that one night, but then you saw him repost your pic from two years ago on his private story. Just a blurry one of you in his hoodie, the caption:

“LMAO remember this?”

No one else would’ve known it was you.

But you did.

You knew that was his way of saying he missed you.

Or when he picked you up from that party when you were tipsy and giggling in the passenger seat, and you accidentally leaned into his side. His arm instinctively wrapped around you.

You whispered, “You smell the same.”

He whispered, “You don’t.”

It was quiet after that.

He still calls you “princess” sometimes, too.

And then immediately follows it with,

“I mean—dude. Whatever your name is now.”

But it’s always in that same voice. The one that sounds like home.

And the worst part?

You let it slide.

Because some part of you—no matter how small—still wants to be his.

So yeah… being friends with Chris is weird.

Because every now and then, it still feels like you’re his.

And every now and then, it still feels like he’s yours.

But neither of you are saying it.

Because friends don’t say that kind of shit. Right?

—

A/N- i wanted to write chris being a sub but @sunrisemill told me to drag it

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl @freshlyinlovewchris @whore4chris @matts-girlfriend @ariana3lovesu @sturnl0ve @cass-sturn @sturns-mermaid @sunrisemill @fadedstvrn @ikyoudreamofme @mattsdemi @kitkatbar1275 @skelet0nsinmyycloset @lezleeferguson-120 @bells-sturn @sturniolosymphony @kenziesturniolo54 @kikirasweatsweathoho @emely9274 @cherryystemm @realuvrrr @zenithsturniolo @kier-with-a-k @eeyoresturnz @elizasturn @ribread03 @sturnslux3 @costalgirlyr @pizzapocketpocketpizza @arianna1342 @mattsplaything @ed1tssturnn @ivysturnss

[dearlizzies]

hot girl shit (reading fanfiction on a friday night instead of going out)